Podcasts about novels

Two mysteries (including the latest installment of a must-read series!) plus two other just-published books provide lots of fodder for conversation between hosts Sarah Bowen Shea and Ellison Weist (including a drool-inducing discussion of one author!). Also find out the classic novel Sarah and Ellison each recommend.  The four new books the duo discuss: -The Impossible Fortune: Richard Osman-Bog Queen: Anna North-Town & Country: Brian Schaefer-A Guardian and a Thief: Megha Majumdar Find 2026 hiking + biking program details here.    When you shop our sponsors, you help AMR.We appreciate your—and their—support! Get 20% off, plus free shipping, on allIQBAR products by texting AMR to 64-000 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On this week's episode of Excelsior Journeys: The Road to Creativity, host & producer George Sirois sits down with author Amanda Madison. While typical superhero stories fill comic book pages on a regular basis, Amanda is focused on taking those larger-than-life characters and making them the starts of their own series of novels. Her debut novel "Program 38: Sparks" is already available for purchase, as is the second part of her Program 38 series - "Truths."Excelsior Journeys: The Road to Creativity exists primarily as a platform for creatives of all kinds (authors, filmmakers, stand-up comics, musicians, voice artists, painters, podcasters, etc) to share their journeys to personal success. It is very important to celebrate those voices as much as possible to not only provide encouragement to up-and-coming talent, but to say thank you to the established men & women for inspiring the current generation of artists.If you agree that the Excelsior Journeys podcast serves a positive purpose and would like to show your appreciation, you can give back to the show by clicking HERE.Excelsior Journeys: The Road to Creativity is now a proud member of the Podmatch Podcast Network, and you can access all shows in the network by clicking HERE.

When the polymorphous writer Ursula K. Le Guin died in 2018, she left behind novels, short stories, poetry, essays, manifestos and French and Chinese translations. The huge and loyal readership among children and older readers that she built during her lifetime has only grown since her death, as has recognition of her work as ‘serious' literature. Chafing against her confinement in genre fiction, she liberated sci-fi, fantasy and YA literature from the condescension to which they had long been subjected. In 2016, she joined the short list of authors to be published in their lifetime by the Library of America. For the final regular episode of Fiction and the Fantastic (though there will be one more special episode) Marina and Chloe read ‘The Left Hand of Darkness' and ‘The Dispossessed': works of exceptional imaginative power and intellectual range, passionate idealism and keen-eyed observation. Is Le Guin's status in both literary and ‘genre' canons a testament to the force and clear-sightedness of her radical – even prophetic – political vision? And what does it mean for the fantastic if we accept her self-characterisation as a ‘realist of a larger reality'? Non-subscribers will only hear an extract from this episode. To listen to the full episode, and all our other Close Readings series, subscribe: Directly in Apple Podcasts: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://lrb.me/applecrff⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ In other podcast apps: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://lrb.me/closereadingsff⁠⁠⁠⁠ Further reading and listening from the LRB: Colin Burrow on Ursula K. Le Guin: https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v43/n02/colin-burrow/it-s-not-jung-s-it-s-mine A collection of writing on science fiction from the LRB: https://www.lrb.co.uk/collections/in-hyperspace Amia Srinivasan on Le Guin's experiments with pronouns: https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v42/n13/amia-srinivasan/he-she-one-they-ho-hus-hum-ita Colin Burrow discusses Le Guin with Thomas Jones on the LRB Podcast: https://www.lrb.co.uk/podcasts-and-videos/podcasts/the-lrb-podcast/magical-authority Next episode: A taxonomy of fantastic literature with Marina, Adam Thirlwell and Edwin Frank.

The Time Riders: Part 8 A Date With Death. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Into the pit. Domitia was brought through the streets, which were lined with huge crowds watching her somberly. She was attended by at least twenty soldiers, who walked in silence around her. Accompanying them were her former sister Vestals and the Pontifex Maximus, one of the greatest priests in Rome and head of the state religion. It was he who ultimately was in charge of the Virgins, both choosing them and stripping them of their office if the need arose. He walked ahead of her, his face grave. Domitia wore a simple white tunic now, but all other signs of her former life were gone. Her magnificent braids were undone, and her brown hair hung down her back shamefully. The colors she'd been allowed to wear were missing. In times past, disgraced Virgins had been excoriated, possibly just beaten with a rod, but now, in the height of mighty Rome's power, the punishment was death, for endangering the city. But no one was insane enough to spill the blood of a Vestal Virgin, disgraced or not, so her execution was not so direct. She would be sent underground into a small chamber, with a stock of food and supplies, and locked in there until she starved to death, or succumbed to sickness. They weren't killing her, per se; she was merely shunned until she died. Such was the way of Imperial Rome. Her condemnation and pronouncement of her fate had already been declared, at the beginning of this long walk, meant to be a show of penitence before the face of all Rome. And as humiliated and crushed as she was, her foremost thought was about Bonosus, and his magnificent cock. Even now, being led through the streets, her cunt was wet and ached to feel him buried inside her. Before she knew it, they had arrived at their destination, a small area in the north of the city, with a plot dug into the ground. Stopping at its edge, she looked down inside; the walls were lined with wood, probably to prevent a collapse, and there seemed to be a small stool and a cot within. She heard hysterical sobbing from nearby, and turned her head to see her mother, her birth mother, Pompeneia, weeping from behind the barricade of guards and calling out to her. Domitia's heart ached for a moment, but then she turned her gaze back to the den prepared for her. Her fate was sealed. She glanced over to look at her sister Vestals, but they refused to look at her, staring ahead resolutely. She could see tears in dear Silla's eyes, though; she had hurt the Sisterhood badly, and this was how she was to pay for it. So be it. With all the dignity she could muster, Domitia swallowed her fear and stepped forward, turning and climbing down the ladder, descending roughly ten feet until she reached the earthen floor. There were small candles burning on some stone surfaces, allowing for dim light. She looked upward, and the last thing she saw was the face of the Pontifex Maximus looking down at her, his expression unreadable, before a heavy door was slammed down and locked, cutting off all light and all sound from above. She shuddered at the sound, her stomach twisting in knots. She knew that there was no way out. The door would be weighted, and guards set outside for weeks, to prevent anyone from trying to rescue her. Despite her fear, she looked around, noting the small amount of food supplies left for her, and a small, narrow hole dug in one corner where she was to relieve herself. It wouldn't do to have a Vestal Virgin stinking of shit, even a disgraced one, and even in death. The silence was almost terrifying. She slumped into the small chair left for her, shivering and biting her lip as she felt that her cunt was still wet, the sticky lips parting slightly as she spread her legs. Thoughts of Bonosus returned to her, and she couldn't help but reach down beneath her tunic and begin rubbing her fingers over herself. The fear she felt melted away as she tickled her throbbing clit and teased her warm nether lips. Domitia closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. If she was to die in this hateful place, it would be while cumming, thinking of that magnificent cock, spurting inside her one last time; The wall opposite her creaked and opened, the stout wooden boards pulling away. Domitia almost yelped in shock, but she didn't stop playing with herself. She stared in astonishment as a tall blonde woman came inside, carrying a torch. Following her was Nanu, a slave-girl that Domitia would have sworn belonged to her parents. "Well, hello, Domitia," the blonde woman said, smiling at her. "I'm Lady Aurora Horatia, Bonosus' mistress. Are you ready to get out of here?" Domitia nodded, but then paused, reconsidering as her fingers plunged in and out of her molten cunt. "Can you; give me just a moment here?" the former Virgin asked sheepishly. Into the Arena. Mark winced and squinted as the great gate opened, allowing light to flood into the dark tunnel. The grinding and heaving of the gears that moved the iron-reinforced barriers echoed loudly, and his heart pounded in anxiety. He was almost hyperventilating, and he could feel the blood racing through his veins. Maybe taking the adrenalin tab he'd finally found stashed behind a loose brick wasn't such a good idea. And no instructions, either. He reminded himself to punch himself in the face when he saw himself again. Hey, at least he knew he survived. He felt himself shoved roughly out into the arena, looking around in bewilderment as tens of thousands of people all shouted and jeered at him. Part of the huge stadium was cast into shadow because of the giant canvas awning that covered a full third of its seating and the arena in the center. He thought it was called the Velarium, but he wasn't sure. The roaring noise of the crowds hurt his ears, and he felt dizzy. The tab's effects apparently hadn't evened out in him yet. Maybe he should have taken it earlier? Wearing his itchy burlap loincloth, a rope belt, sandals and nothing else, Mark wandered slowly toward the center of the sandy field, his cudgel in hand. The echoing sounds of the crowd were maddening, and he felt almost dizzy. What was the purpose of this damn tab, anyway? Guards approached him. His urge was to run, but where would he go? Trembling, he stood his ground and waited for them. One of them grabbed him roughly and spun him about to face something, shoving him to one knee. Mark gasped, but then looked up and paused. On the other side of the giant stadium, sitting in a shaded box, was a man wearing purple, surrounded by guards and other dignitaries. It had to be the Emperor. The most powerful man in the world. If only he knew which one it was. Maybe he could've gotten an autograph. He chuckled bitterly at his joke, but the guard holding him told him to shut up and slapped him across the back of the head. Mark's eyes snapped open and fury flared through him. He surged to his feet and his shoulder-block knocked the guard backwards, to the astonishment of the audience. The guard and another one nearby drew their weapons and were about to kill him, when trumpets blared from all around the perimeter of the Colosseum. Mark looked around warily, seeing the reaction of the crowds as the two guards withdrew. Drums sounded out now, and more trumpets. He looked over at the emperor, his eyes going wide as he noticed a familiar, stunning blonde woman in a seat next to him and watching Mark with a smirk. Kneeling beside her was Nanu. "Jesus, Becky, there's a million people in Rome; how many did you fuck?" he muttered, scowling. He heard the gates clanking open again and spun to face them, his heart racing again. From the dark tunnel strode a stout, bald man wearing leather armour on his shoulder and a metal-studded skirt, carrying a shield and wielding a small axe. "What is this, fetish night at the Colosseum?" Mark complained loudly as the man began to run toward him. Mark braced himself, watching warily. His earlier anxiety was being replaced by anger, and a desire to either flee or fight. He'd just trust to his adrenalin and hope that his future self knew what the Hell he was doing. The gladiator ran up and swung at Mark, who ducked and came up behind his foe. Before the man could turn, Mark struck him across the back of the head with his cudgel. The man crashed to the ground face-first. The crowd was yelling in outrage and astonishment. Apparently, that wasn't supposed to happen. The man showed no signs of rising, merely stirring feebly and groaning, a huge goose egg rising on the back of his head. Hastily, Mark leaned down and pulled the round wooden shield off the man's arm and pried the axe from his grip. He stood up, trying to control his breathing. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. He looked around, making sure no one was approaching him from any other direction, but nobody seemed to be forthcoming. Where was his next foe? It dawned on him that he hadn't been expected to last beyond this first fight. They were probably scrambling to figure out what to do next. Doubtless they'd be finding another gladiator to throw at him. He chanced a glance up at Becky, but she sat still, simply watching him. He didn't blame her; she was supposed to have turned on him, after all. He did notice that she was keeping one leg crossed over the other and bouncing her thighs subtly. Maybe the hormones weren't completely out of her system yet. Or it could have just been normal horny Becky. Who knew at this point? A few seconds later, the gates on another section of the concave wall that surrounded him opened slowly, and out strode a tall man, wearing only a loincloth like himself and greaves, but carrying a weighted net in one hand, and a trident in the other. "Trident!" Mark exclaimed to himself, remembering. "That's what those fucking things are called! Now I can; Hey!" Mark had gotten distracted and only barely jumped out of the way of the retiarius, who thrust his trident, trying to skewer his foe. Mark angrily struck at the man's head with his axe, but he raised the haft of the weapon to block and Mark's axe broke on it. The crowd cheered wildly as it saw what happened. Mark stared dumbly at the splintered handle of his weapon, the iron head missing entirely, having spun off to land in the dust several inconvenient feet away. "What the shit?" Mark shouted angrily as he dodged another attack, keeping his shield between himself and his enemy. The trident's tines glanced off the face of his shield, coming perilously close to ripping open his side. "You mean I can't kill anyone? I'm timelocked from killing someone, even if they're trying to kill me?" He dodged again and scrambled for his cudgel, lying next to the first man he'd knocked unconscious. The man he was fighting was quick, though, and lunged in, jamming his weapon forward and trying to impale Mark through his stomach with it. Mark blocked with the shield, shuddering in panic as he felt the tines burst through the wood and punch out the back side, dangerously close to his belly. But the trident was caught now, and now the two men wrestled back and forth desperately, with the retiarius trying to free his weapon and Mark doing everything he could to prevent that exact thing. Suddenly he realized that he was doing exactly the wrong thing, and simply let go of his shield. The gladiator now held his trident awkwardly, weighed down as it was by the shield embedded on it, and with no safe recourse to get it back. He flailed at Mark with the weighted edges of his net, threatening to break smaller bones if he got in too close. Mark dashed for the cudgel again, and this time his opponent couldn't quickly follow him. Mark picked it up and tried putting the man on the defensive, skirting around him, looking for an opening to strike. The man glared at him balefully, swinging the net if Mark got too close. He's not armored and he can't use his weapon; Mark reminded himself. He flung his cudgel at the gladiator's face and surged in while the man was trying to block the unexpected projectile. His trident was weighted down with Mark's shield, so he was using the net frantically to avoid being struck. Mark plowed into the man and took him down to the ground, using his advantage in height and weight. His foe wheezed as he landed hard on his back, beginning to thrash as Mark straddled his chest and pummeled at him. A lucky punch got through and Mark snapped his foe's head to the side with a right across the jaw. He went to sleep. The crowds were shouting again angrily as Mark stood, recovering his stupid club and taking the man's net, since the shield was wrecked, and the trident was no use since he apparently wasn't allowed to kill anyone. How did time lock know, anyway? He bent over, trying to control his breathing and his pulse. His head was spinning again from the anxiety. What the Hell was his future self thinking, leaving that damn tab to use? What sort of advantage and futuristic superpower was panic? You're pumping adrenalin; it makes runners faster, it makes them run longer; it makes people stronger in a crisis; He opened his eyes and stood, turning around and looking at the thousands upon thousands of people who hated him. Fuck those people. He turned and looked at the emperor and held the weighted net in the air, scowling at the sovereign. "That all you got, asshole?" he shouted, feeling himself get angrier and more aggressive with every moment. Becky could barely hear what Mark was yelling over the noise of the crowds, but she shifted somewhat uncomfortably when she felt the mood of the man next to her darken. "So that's how he wants to play it, hmm?" muttered the emperor, resting his cheek against his hand. "Uppity thing, this boy of yours, Lady Horatia." "Oh, he is no longer mine, great emperor; this behavior, reprehensible as it might be, is unknown to me. Please dispose of the upstart as you see fit," Becky replied, knowing better than to be perceived as defending Mark. "You can count on that, my lady;” he replied, nodding absently as he made some vague motion to a signaler. "If you will excuse me, sire, I must depart for a moment," Becky said, trying to not sound urgent. The emperor looked at her quizzically for a moment: "You would miss his doom?" She made a show of blushing: "His life and death mean nothing to me now, but all this excitement has undone me, sire. I must go and relieve myself, because it wouldn't do to piss myself in your presence." "Very well, then," he said, nodding. "But try to be back soon." Becky stood and bowed before exiting the emperor's spectator box, taking Nanu with her, pulling her along by the wrist. "My lady, is now a good time to see to such functions?" asked the Egyptian girl as she followed the blonde woman. "Is Bonosus not in great danger? I thought you meant to rescue him." "I can't rescue him sitting next to that pompous ass, now can I?" Becky hissed as she strode down one of the hallways. "And keep your voice down; I don't want people to know what we're doing." "Sorry, mistress," Nanu replied, blushing. She allowed herself to be dragged along for several seconds before asking her next question. "What are we doing, exactly?" "You'll see soon enough," Becky said grimly, her blue eyes flashing as she pushed through the throngs of people in the hallways that ran around the length of the Colosseum. "I hope you wore your cock-sucking lips today;” The huge man lumbered towards Mark; he was well over half a foot taller than Mark, and a whole lot heavier. Beneath his layer of fat, he was obviously muscular and very strong. He carried a shield in one hand, a wicked sword in the other. His loincloth was made of tough leather, covered in metal studs. His wide belt was also braced with metal. His right arm was protected from shoulder to wrist by a cauldron and gleaming steel plates. On his head was an intimidating helmet, the face mask looking like something out of "Mad Max: Fury Road," with a peaked top that sported what looked like a curved metal blade or sail. It looked like he was wearing a can opener on his head. "Fuck;” Mark whined to himself as he stood his ground, trying to figure out how he was going to keep from getting killed. He held his cudgel and his net, trying to look threatening, but the gorilla coming at him didn't seem to care. He jumped out of the way as the Samnite slashed with his sword. He tried to move in, but was sent flying backwards when the gladiator suddenly slammed the front of his shield into him. Landing on his back, Mark only had a split second to roll out of the way as the point of his foe's sword drove down into the dirt where'd he'd only just been. He kicked at the man's leg, but it held, and he scrambled away, looking to put some distance between them. "Hey, Jason Voorhies!" he called out, waving his club in the air. "Over here, candy-ass!" The gladiator turned his head to look at him while trying to wrench his blade from the hard-packed earth. He finally did so and stood upright, rolling his shoulders and striding forward again. He slashed with his blade, but Mark dodged once again and then threw his net over his foe. The Samnite got caught in it, but didn't go down, trying angrily to remove it. Mark jumped on his back and began hammering away with his stupid little club. The giant staggered about, flailing wildly to dislodge his smaller foe. The jeering from the crowd was punctuated with increasing amounts of laughter at this ridiculous spectacle. Mark hung on for dear life with one arm wrapped around the man, his other hand whacking away at the foe's helmet. But his own net was preventing the blows from being fully effective, despite the metallic ringing of his strikes. Unable to reach the pest on his back or use his weapons, the huge man simply fell backwards, hoping to crush Mark. It wasn't graceful, and it wasn't pretty, but it did stun Mark long enough to stop him from hitting his foe with his cudgel. "Oh fuck;” Mark wheezed as the Samnite rolled off him and struggled to get up while removing the netting. Mark slowly crawled away, shaking his head to stop the world from spinning. The jellied tissue that was once his lungs was on fire, and strained to get oxygen circulating through him. He heard his foe growl in frustration, and then he felt himself getting grabbed by the scruff of the neck and the back of his loincloth before being hauled completely off the ground; The crowd went wild as the gladiator threw Bonosus bodily to the ground, as if trying to crush his bones with the impact. He picked him up again and dashed him to the hard-packed earth, having given up on removing the net. Mark protected himself from the slams as best he could, but it wasn't helping much, given the strength of the man who was mauling him. The fourth time getting slammed to the ground was about Mark's limit, and the world had become nonsense around him; everything sounded like it was being played in drunken slow motion. His vision swam, and he really just wanted to take a damn nap. He shook his head trying to clear it, remembering that Becky had bought him time, so he'd best not waste it getting rag-dolled by this shit stain. While the Samnite was reaching down for him, Mark managed to roll onto his back and kicked up, hard, between the gladiator's legs. His foot found the man's crotch, and while the force of the blow was lessened by the net's interference, his foe still groaned, and his knees bent. Mark kicked again, and then once more, having finally staggered his foe. The man sank to his knees, holding his crotch. Mark couldn't see his face, but he was obviously in a great deal of pain. Mark staggered to his feet, ignoring the crowd's jeers and screams, focusing only on his foe. The gladiator was now protecting his crotch with his hands, so Mark couldn't kick him there, so he slammed the bottom of his foot into the larger man's chest, knocking him on his back, where he lay moaning. Mark stamped on his crotch for good measure. "Stop, dammit!" wailed the man. "Quit kicking me in the cock!" "Fuck you!" Mark spat, scowling. His chest was on fire and his entire body throbbed in pain. "You were trying to kill me, fuckface! Why should I give a shit what you think?" "I'll stop, I'll stop!" the man pleaded, writhing under the net and totally at Mark's mercy. "Just don't wreck my cock, I was gonna fuck tonight!" "Yeah, right," Mark sneered. "Who were you gonna fuck?" Mark spun as he heard an ululating war cry, and his eyes widened as he saw a woman running toward him, carrying a whip in one hand and a sword in the other. Her spiked hair was wet with blue woad paste, and her eyes were mad with battle lust. "Her;” the Samnite indicated. Becky and Nanu were both on their knees, mouths bobbing back and forth on the cocks of the men they had leaning back against the wall, groaning and pumping their hips. Neither of the men could believe their luck; they thought this would be another boring day for measly pay. From up here, they couldn't even see the action down in the arena well. Sulus and Catullus, two former merchant marines, were charged with keeping the Velarium in place during the spectacles. Their extensive experience with canvas sails made them ideal for this tedious but essential work. At least, that's what they were told, despite the thirty asses a day they received proclaiming otherwise. So imagine their good fortune and delight when this patrician woman and her slave-girl happened to wander on up, espy the two men, and offer to suck their cocks, without even charging them anything! Talk about Saturnalia in Quintilis! Nanu moaned as she swirled her tongue around the head of the cock she was sucking on, holding it by the base of the shaft, her eyes closed. This seemed like an odd time to be doing something like this, but Lady Aurora had been quite firm that it was part of the plan. So be it. Besides, that strange little patch her new mistress had affixed to the skin under her arm was making her so horny right now. Kneeling beside the slave, Becky's free hand reached out and took hold of Nanu's, giving it a squeeze. They continued pushing their wet mouths along the lengths of the throbbing shafts, both girls getting wetter and more aroused with each passing moment. Nanu pulled her mouth off the cock for a moment, sucking in air and breathing heavily as she massaged it with her tiny hand. Her face was flushed as she looked over at her new mistress, her eyes glazed with desire. Becky nodded her assent. Nanu stood quickly and lifted the long trails of her garment, exposing her ass and cunt to the man she'd been servicing. She turned around and leaned back against him, squirming her ass against his cock, making him moan loudly. With great need, she grabbed hold of his tool and speared herself down on it, sighing loudly before beginning to wiggle back and forth on him, shivering as he slid in and out of her. Becky rose to her feet soon after, moving around to face Nanu and leaning forward, with her hands on the slave-girl's shoulders and looking into her eyes. The marine got behind Becky and gripped her hips, pushing inside her. Becky moaned into Nanu's mouth as she kissed her, their tongues tangling hungrily while their tits squirmed and rubbed together. The men held tight and fucked the two women as hard as they could, looking to cum as quickly as possible. Hips smacked against asses and moans grew louder. Becky and Nanu now panted through an open-mouthed kiss, their hands groping one another in need. The Egyptian girl pressed back as hard as she could on the cock she was impaled on, while Becky ground in eager circles, yearning for release. Seconds later they were wailing into one another's mouths, shuddering in ecstasy as the men groaned and began pumping cum inside their wanton pussies. Becky and Nanu were relentless, milking the men for all they were worth, until they slumped to the stone floor, almost insensate from the orgasms these strange women had given them. Straddling the marines now, and facing into one another, Becky and Nanu continued kissing and fondling, even as they moved slowly up and down on the rigid poles they'd been fucking. "Umm, mistress;” Nanu said dreamily, lost in Becky's blue eyes. "I know, my love," Becky murmured, giving Nanu many light kisses on the lips, as if she was unable to help herself. "But we must; smooch; get ready to; do our part; smooch; and rescue Mark;” Nanu pulled back from the kiss and looked up in confusion. "Mark?" "Bonosus," Becky corrected herself, waving it off. "I'll explain later. Now help me get ready;” The crowd was howling with laughter as Mark ran around the arena in a panic, chased by the gladiatrix, who cracked her whip at him, screeching for him to get his ass back there so she could kick it. Mark didn't need oppositional defiance disorder to ignore her demands. The tip of that whip was cracking awfully close behind him. The Samnite he'd downed earlier grunted and flopped down again as Mark stamped on his back while running over him. "Don't try to get up, asshole, you promised!" Mark shouted angrily. "If you do, I don't care if she's trying to kill me, I'll come over there and kick you in the balls so hard you'll be spitting them out!" "Okay! Okay!" the man shouted back, lying on his stomach and waiting. "But I hope she catches you and rips your skin off to wear as a cloak!" "Oh, go sit on a Doric column!" Mark grumbled, deking to the left to try to throw her off. At this point, the crowd was chanting something, what he could only Assume Was Her Name "Achilleia! Achilleia!" "What is that, Latin for Psycho Hose-Beast?" Mark complained loudly, noticing that he had not gained any ground on his foe. He only had the stupid cudgel, whereas she had a wicked sword and a goddam whip. He had the distinct impression he couldn't tire her; she had the look of a woman on a murder mission; her eyes were wild with bloodlust, the scream escaping her lips singing of his gory doom. "She's the greatest female gladiator in Rome!" called out the Samnite, still watching from his confines beneath the net. "She's been more than a match for many men who have fought her!" "Singing my praises doesn't get you more cunt than normal, Rullus!" Achilleia snapped, still chasing her quarry. Gods, this slave could run! Pity she had to kill him, he was well-built and had a great ass! She pressed harder, now swiping with her sword, since using her whip slowed her down some. Like most gladiators, she was wearing little armour, only leather greaves, a leather loincloth, an abbreviated leather cuirass that exposed her midriff but held her tits in place, and a leather cauldron and brace on one arm. A steel fillet around her forehead glittered with glass beads, off-setting her wild blue death-hawk hair. She whooped in triumph as the tip of her sword tore open the back of his loincloth and it fell away, leaving Mark completely exposed as he fled for his life. The crowd was laughing hysterically again. "Dammit, I hate freeballing when I'm running!" he shouted angrily, grimacing as his balls slapped around his thighs. "You have no idea how uncomfortable this is!" "Stop running then, coward!" Achilleia taunted, enjoying the view even as she tried to kill him. "I only offer the bliss of death! One red kiss of my blade across your throat, slave, and you; Off!" Done with running, Mark stopped very suddenly and braced himself, hunkering down so that Achilleia plowed into him, completely unprepared. She staggered backward and Mark whirled and grappled onto her, preventing her from using her weapons. The gladiatrix snarled and tried to knee him in the crotch, but he kept his legs judiciously in the way. They tottered and staggered about, vying for control, until they tripped over the Samnite, who was helpless to avoid them. "Oh Fuck!" he wheezed as they landed on him and then rolled off, still tussling. "Welcome to my world, dickface!" Mark shouted back at him, still wrestling with Achilleia, who meant to murder him repeatedly. Out of desperation, and with the effects of the tab still coursing through his blood, he picked her up bodily and threw her to the ground, her sword clattering away. He dropped to his knees instantly, smacking her in the face with his scrotum. "Teabag!" he shouted before whirling around and grappling onto her, trying to subdue her. He hated the thought of punching a woman, but she was trying to eviscerate him, so an exception might be in order. Achilleia was a veteran of the gladiator pits, however, and not so easily dealt with. She recovered and thrashed around, screeching and trying to claw her foe's eyes out. He swatted the whip from her hands before she could strike him with it. Mark found her increasingly difficult to manage, using his weight on top of her body to keep her in place. That plan went south, however, when she wrapped her legs around his waist and began rocking back and forth, until she was on top. They rolled around in the dust while the crowd went insane. Mark had her arms gripped tightly, out to the sides, which forced her body down closer to his. The wild look in her eyes chilled his blood, and she tried to bite his neck repeatedly, to tear his throat out. He countered frantically by using his head to shove hers away from his tender skin, and the result must have looked ridiculous, the two of them pushing and sparring with their heads. "Gurr, let; me; kill; you!" Achilleia hissed, struggling to maintain her balance over her stronger foe. "I'll make it quick, I promise!" "It'll feel good, I promise!" Mark sneered, butting the side of her head to knock it away. "Why would I make this easy for you?" "Gonna; rip you; a new;” Achilleia strained, pushing down harder. She then paused, her eyes going wide with shock. "What; gods, do you have a hard-on?" Mark used the momentary pause to roll her over, her arms pinned beside her head. Achilleia's eyes were still wide as she goggled up at him. Unfortunately, yes, he was hard again. Either he was developing some sort of danger fetish, or the hormones weren't quite as out of his system as he thought. They struggled and thrashed, with the look of shock on Achilleia's face becoming one of irritation, then a weird determination. She wasn't fighting about so much, and she seemed to be pushing with her hips, almost pumping with them. She glared and bit her lip. The roaring of the crowds was slowly abating as they watched the proceedings on the arena floor. What was happening? Seconds ago, the gladiatrix had been trying to kill the slave, now they were; what were they doing? Mark kept her pinned beneath him, and couldn't help but join her in squirming as they glared into one another's eyes. Achilleia was undulating her hips now, her upper body virtually motionless. Mark grimaced at the feel of the toughened leather around her middle grinding on his hard-on. "Dammit;” Achilleia growled. "Let go of my god-rotting hand so I can move my loincloth!" Mark took a chance and let go of one of her hands. It flashed down and pulled aside the leather garment before taking hold of his hard cock and guiding it to her entrance. Without another thought, Mark pushed down, deep inside her. Achilleia wailed loudly and wrapped her legs around his waist again, pulling him in deeper still. The entire Colosseum throng had gone silent as the spectators stared, stunned by what they were witnessing. All that could be heard, echoing through the giant stadium, was Achilleia's cries of pleasure. Was this really happening? "Achilleia? What the Hell?" the Samnite yelled in outrage, his girlfriend getting fucked by Rome's most hated slave mere feet away from him. "Shut up, Rullus, he's fucking huge!" Achilleia shouted back, pumping her hips wildly against Mark. The gladiator did as he was told and simply sulked, turning his head to look elsewhere. The emperor watched out stonily, not at all impressed with the turn of events his grand spectacle for the people had taken. He'd heard of the blasphemy this upstart slave had committed, and this was supposed to be a damnation of a great sin. Now it was another blasphemy. And where the Hell was Lady Aurora? He napped his fingers and one of his servants leaned in close, to see what his master wanted. "Have them all killed;” growled the emperor, determined to save face somehow. Mark thrust harder and harder, while Achilleia yelped and bucked beneath him, holding onto his back and with her legs still wrapped around his back. Nearby, Rullus was resting his helmeted head on his hand and rapping his fingers against the packed earth, trying to look bored. Not difficult for a man tangled inside a net. "Any time, you two;” he grumbled. "Oh, cram it, Linzer-head," Mark spat. "Say one more thing and I'll fuck her ass next!" "Oh!" Achilleia wailed, grinding and thrusting against Mark desperately. "I'm gonna; I ‘ Then she seized up and pushed up with all her strength, clenching her teeth so hard they might have cracked. As Rome watched on in stunned silence, the gladiatrix shrieked to the gods and came, hard. Mark shuddered and groaned, pumping profuse amounts of cum deep inside her clenching cunt. He thrust madly, emptying himself into her. Finally, they were both spent. Achilleia lay still beneath him, her chest rising and falling, skin glistening with sweat. Mark, exhausted, rested his forehead against her shoulder, too tired to defend himself if she tried to kill him now. Fortunately, his death was the farthest thing from her mind. Seconds of silence passed, before the thousands of spectators in the stands erupted into a wave of cheers and catcalls. Mark smiled and chuckled tiredly. "That can't be good;” he mused. "Nope," she agreed, sighing and biting on a knuckle as the last of the orgasm pulsed through her. "After that, they're certainly going to kill us. All of us. It doesn't matter; I would have died in the arena eventually. At least this way, I died with a cock in me and cumming hard." "Don't be so certain about that;” Mark replied, finally looking up and seeing all the gates opening and dozens of legionaries rushing toward them, spears at the ready. "Ah, I don't like this!" Nanu whined as she shimmied out along one of the corbels that held the vast awning in place. She held on like grim death as she edged forward, a small but sharp knife in one hand. "You can do it, my love," Becky said encouragingly, watching from their original position where they'd fucked the two marines. Both men were still snoozing, but she had tied their hands and feet for extra security. She would have done Nanu's job herself, but she was taller and heavier than the Egyptian girl, who stood a much better chance of succeeding than she did without snapping the braces or corbels. "Look straight ahead and ignore the sounds below." So of course, Nanu looked down. "He's fucking!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "He's fucking the gladiatrix that's supposed to be killing him! I may kill him! He doesn't need saving, I do!" "Nanu, focus!" Becky insisted. "Get to your position and await my signal." "Yes, mistress;” sighed the slave-girl sullenly. Once in position, Nanu held on tight, trying not to think about the dizzying heights she was suspended from. Everyone seemed like ants far below her. Except for Bonosus and his whore of a gladiator; she could see them very clearly, to the place where she could make out his throbbing cock as it thrust in and out of her unworthy cunt. He had a lot of explaining to do when this was over. The crowd was watching in stunned silence, unable to believe what they were seeing. But then Becky and Nanu heard the gladiatrix wailing as she came. Bonosus' groans of pleasure burned in Nanu's ears, while Becky just rolled her eyes, sighed and tapped her foot impatiently. Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd; they'd come for blood and been rewarded with live pornography! Nanu was scowling still, when she noticed the gates opening and legionaries pouring out of them, converging on the five figures in the center of the arena. "Mistress;” Nanu said nervously, her anxiety for Bonosus' well-being overcoming her jealousy. "Now, Nanu!" Becky yelled, making sure her slave could hear her. She was already working frantically to cut through the thick ropes in one of the giant pulleys that moved the Velarium into position. Nanu, meanwhile, was sawing at the edge of the rope that held the corbel she was on in place. She gritted her teeth as she watched the steel knife bite through the thick fiber cable until finally it snapped free. The rope whipped about as it unraveled, causing a cascade of loosening canvas across the broad length of the famed awning. Becky, meanwhile, finished cutting through the rope in the giant pulley she'd selected, dodging hastily as it snapped and flailed about before spinning away. The giant canvas sheets comprising the Velarium buckled and gave way, while the corbels and rope masts retracted rapidly. "Mistress!" Nanu keened, holding on like grim death as the corbel she was on, no longer held in place by the giant ropes, snapped back toward the solid stone walls of the Colosseum. "Jump, Nanu!" Becky called out, standing on the edge of the wall and holding her arms out. "I'll catch you! Trust mistress!" Nanu squeezed her eyes shut and jumped; Becky wheezed as she caught the flying girl, tumbling to the floor with her and holding her tight. Nanu was shivering in her grasp, so Becky just held her for a few seconds and caressed her raven hair. The slave-girl looked up at her savior and nodded, so Becky stood them up, listening to the shrieks of panic as the Velarium floated down relentlessly. "Teamwork, Nanu!" she said excitedly as they stood. "Let's see what happens next!" In the Arena. Mark faced one direction warily, while Rullus and Achilleia stood behind him, squaring off against other legionaries who were closing in. The original gladiator and the retiarius were also conscious and now stood with them, brandishing what weapons they could. Mark felt silly sporting only his cudgel, but it seemed dumb to not let the gladiators have the weapons they were trained with. His cock was still hard, and leaking cum from the tip. He saw Achilleia slowly turning her head to look down at it longingly. "Eyes front, Achilleia!" he snapped, not in the mood to die. She returned to glaring balefully at the encroaching soldiers. There must have been a hundred of the legionaries. That was twenty-to-one odds. He decided to not mention that to his enemies-turned-allies, since he wasn't sure if they understood ratios in any event. If their math was as poor as their hygiene, why bother? "When I thought I'd die in the emperor's sight, this isn't how I pictured it," Rullus growled, brandishing his sword. "I hadn't envisioned dying for that cocksucker at all," Achilleia replied, spitting in contempt at the foes in front of her. "Damned if I'm gonna give him the satisfaction of a clean kill. People will remember this day, to his embarrassment!" The legionaries advanced, the circle tightening. They were protected by their large scutum body shields, and their spears pointed threateningly at the little rebel group. Mark wasn't sure what good he would do here, since he was armed with a club smaller than his dick, and he was the only untrained gladiator. But then he noticed rippling movement above, looked up and grinned. The velarium became dislodged from its moorings and like a vast sail or flag, began floating down over the stadium. People noticed, began screeching in panic, and stampeding. "Right on, Becks;” he said with satisfaction as his day began to look up. The emperor looked up, scowling as he saw the giant canvas sheet descending, fluttering menacingly as it enveloped the upper levels of seating. Panic ensued, with people scampering around pell-mell, trying to escape. "I really hate the gods;” he thought darkly as the canvas touched down around him and everything went to shit. Becky, standing on the edge of the wall and looking down over the chaos and mayhem she had caused, with tens of thousands thrown into panic, cackled gaily and clapped her hands before yanking down her top to expose her tits and holding her arms wide and yelling loudly across her kingdom of madness. "Are you not entertained?" she shouted, reveling in her triumph. God, she'd always wanted to use that line. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Mark shouted as he and his new allies raced down the hallway, shooing everyone in front of him. "Faster, if you wanna live!" The legionaries had forgotten all about the little group of rebels once the madness ensued, racing toward the emperor to rescue him. Mark used the opportunity to escape, bringing his former foes with him. He wasn't terribly interested in seeing them die, and they might prove very useful in getting out of here in one piece. Rullus had led them through a small, little-known door in the wall of the arena, one used generally only by pit masters to monitor the proceedings. His titan frame barely fit in it, but he led the way dutifully. "Where are we going?" Achillea asked, happy to be escaping, but at least wanting to know what the plan was. She had her whip and her sword in hand again. "The most convenient, flat and open space you know of beneath the Colosseum," Mark replied, hurrying along behind her. "A place almost no one knows about or uses." "One of the old training spaces," grunted Rullus. "It hasn't been used in years. Follow me!" Their course took them deeper beneath the stadium, through winding halls and narrow corridors and staircases. They finally reached a wide chamber, in the middle of which stood Becky, Nanu and Domitia. The former Vestal and the slave-girl seemed stunned to see the small party approaching, and the gladiators gaped as Lady Aurora and her slave ran into one another's arms, kissing deeply and feverishly, speaking in some unknown tongue. "Right!" Mark said, finally disengaging from Becky's tongue as he looked around, eyes flashing with determination. "I know this is going to sound weird, but I need you all to trust me. We're going to get you out of here, as quickly as we can." "How?" asked the Retiarius, looking about warily. "They'll find us eventually!" "I know, and what I'm going to say will sound like magic, but just run with it, okay?" Mark replied, walking over to the Holmes Field Device, which Becky had been kind enough to retrieve. He wasn't sure how, but she was better with this temporal shit than he was. And they trusted one another by now. "This contraption will get us out of here, but it's not big enough for all of us at once. I'm gonna take Lady Aurora and Domitia first, then come back for a few more, then the last load." Rullus nodded: "You spared my life, and I entrust you with it. Achilleia and I will go last, holding the room if the enemy comes." "Oh, Rullus;” Achilleia sighed, looking up at the hulking gladiator, her expression a dreamy one, before she suddenly scowled and smacked him on the back of his helmeted head. "You romantic asshole." Mark left them to argue while he hustled Becky and Domitia onto the platform, which was already switched on, lights and readings blinking around the surface. Becky swatted Domitia's hand as she tried to touch a dial. "You know where we're going?" he asked, hoping she had a better handle on this than he did. She nodded, smiling. "Leave it to me, Mark. I think you'll like this solution;” The climate was certainly a change from that of Rome, but it was also a pleasant experience in its own right. The city around them, built of red brick, sandy-colored stone, and studded with stately palm trees, reminded Mark of eastern cities in every movie he'd ever seen. Beyond the walls stretched endless expanses of desert, in which the city stood as a shining jewel in a vast sea of scorching sand. He didn't know why Becky knew to park the machine where she did, but he also knew she had figured out how to use his Holmes Field Device on her own, so he wasn't questioning it. Safe from prying eyes, and after two more trips back to the Colosseum to gather the other rebels, Mark now found himself in an ancient temple in the shape of a ziggurat, with priestesses standing in front of them and bowing. Unlike the Vestals, the white garments of these priestesses were delightfully spare, exposing more than it covered. "Lady Aurora Horatia," one of them said humbly. "Your timing is fortuitous, and we gladly accept your offer. Domitia will be given a new life as a priestess of Nanaya, or as she is known in your tongue, Suadela." The priestesses all walked up to Domitia and kissed her, welcoming her into their sisterhood. The former Vestal shed tears, not in sorrow, but because she had a new beginning. Nanaya, as the goddess was known in this far-flung province, was an ancient Sumerian goddess of sensuality and lust. When the Romans had conquered the land, they readily identified her with Suadela, to keep the peace. The priestess smiled at Mark and Becky again. "And for your generous donation of gold, we will take on your four friends here, to guard our temple, as the garrison makes no effort to do so. They are now, in their own way, lifelong servants and devotees of the goddess." The four gladiators beamed proudly. Since serving Nanaya, even as guardians of her temple, meant food, lodging and getting laid by her harlot-priestesses, they were more than amenable to the idea. "Lady Aurora," Domitia intoned, taking Becky's hands in hers and smiling slyly. "Will you consent to Bonosus and yourself being the first to receive my blessings as a priestess of Nanaya?" "I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear;” Becky purred, pulling Domitia into her arms and kissing her deeply. A small villa in Roman Italy; Mark sipped wine from a goblet while Becky lay nearby on a couch, wearing nothing while Nanu sat on a small stool and massaged her feet. The sultry afternoon suited everyone, and they were finally at peace. "Helluva trip, Becks," Mark mused, draining his glass and then pouring more for himself. "You've gotten really good with the Holmes Field Device now. I seriously thought it was me who left the adrenalin tab for my discovery under the Colosseum, but it was actually you." "Sorry to scare you there," Becky sighed, as Nanu worked on her toes individually, sometimes even kissing them as she rubbed oil into them. "I found them in our tab supply, and thought it was our best bet. I just jumped behind a few hours when no one was around and stashed them in that cell for you." "So it wasn't even me coming back from the future to save myself," Mark chuckled. "Here I was so confident that I'd lived, that I couldn't be killed because future-self was looking out for me, but no, it was current you. So I could've been killed at any point, even if time lock kept me from killing anyone else." "It was a little bit messy, but you did survive, and that's what counts." Becky pointed out, caressing one of her tits lazily while enjoying Nanu's exquisite touch. "So what're we gonna do with her?" Mark asked, referencing the Egyptian slave-girl. Nanu had gotten used to her mistress and her manservant speaking in this weird, harsh language, and thought nothing of it anymore; when they needed her, they spoke Latin or her own tongue to her. Becky sighed contentedly and puddled further into the couch. Nanu's foot massages were utter bliss. "I was considering letting her stay here, and simply look after this little villa I bought for me. Whenever we visited, we'd just come back as close to the time we left as possible, but I have no idea if we could guarantee time snarls not getting in the way. So I'm bringing her home with me." Mark raised an eyebrow. "That a good idea? Or even possible?" Becky shrugged. "If she can't be brought with us, the Holmes Field Device won't work, right? So we care for her here. If it does allow it, I'll keep her with me in my house and teach her about her new world. I'll just say she's a foreign student bunking with me." "Literally, I might add." Mark quipped, holding up his goblet and winking. "Oh, you," Becky giggled while Nanu shed her clothes and crawled over Becky, straddling her hips and beginning to squirm their pussies together slowly. "I don't think she's gonna give up on the notion of being my slave-girl any time soon; it seems to make her feel safe. If she asks about you as a slave, I'll say I freed you." "Well, I was pretty enslaved to you for a while there," Mark chuckled. "Funny, I remember being so in love with you while those tabs were in effect, and I remember it fondly. But at this point, I'm just back to feeling like you're my dear friend, and I love you, just not in love any more, ya' know?" Becky sighed and nodded as she placed her hands gently on Nanu's tits and caressed them while undulating beneath the slave-girl. "I know what you mean. Talk about exhilarating, right? We should do that again at some point, just for funsies." "I'm in," Mark agreed, as his cock hardened from watching the two girls make love. He put down his wine, stood up and moved in behind them, kneeling at the bottom of the couch and sinking his cock deep inside Becky, making her moan as he started to slide in and out of her. "And what about our other acquisitions?" he asked, caressing and squeezing Nanu's ass while he fucked his Physics teacher. "Uh, the clothes we'll keep at my place, for future use," she breathed, loving the feel of Nanu's moist cunt on hers while Mark fucked deeply. She felt Nanu shiver and gasp as Mark pulled out of her and pushed into the slave-girl. "And I bought those big amphorae of Falernian wine, there's twenty-six liters in each. We'll bury them where we know nature has never been disturbed back in our time, and then retrieve them. Voila, Roman wine for dinner every night." "I'm gonna have fun explaining that to my parents;” Mark chuckled as he slid back into Becky, making her cry out. Dinner with Family. Dhallyla stared at the liquid in her glass in wonder while her family sat at the table for dinner. It was quite unlike anything she'd ever tasted before. "Mark, what; what did you say this was called again?" she asked. He shrugged as he ate. "It's a Roman-style wine, called Falernian. Lots of people are recreating ancient alcohol recipes now, so I thought we'd give this a shot. Pretty nice, hmm?" "Very strong," his sister Roxy rasped as she put down her wine glass and made a bit of a face. "Very, very strong." "That's why the Romans and Greeks mixed their wine with water," he chuckled. "Some Roman talked about not being able to bring an open flame near wine because it could catch fire. So I mixed it with water, like the instructions said. Sorry if it's still strong." "Where did you get this again?" his father asked. "Ren Faire," he said easily. "All sorts of brewers and people showing off their wine and beer skills these days at them, so I thought I'd give it a shot, ya' know? Bought a couple of bottles." "It's certainly different, but I can grow to like it," his mother mused. "Make sure you get more before we run out." "I can do that," Mark replied cheerfully. Later that night, he was sitting at his desk in his room, surfing for eras to visit during their next adventure, when the door to his room clicked shut. He turned his head to see his sister leaning back against the door, looking at him pointedly. "Something I can do for you, Rox?" he asked plainly, keeping his eyes on his research. "Now that you mention it, yeah," she said, folding her arms and wearing that insufferable smirk of hers. She never stopped reminding him who the elder sibling was. "So I did some looking around online, and there hasn't been a Ren Faire within five hundred miles of us in the last six months." Mark paused in his surfing and slowly turned to look at his sister. "So," she said, walking slowly toward him. "I figure it's about time you told me what the Hell is really going on;” Loose ends, scores to settle, a moral quandaries abound! It's Your Own Fault You Snooped! Mark didn't speak for several seconds, trying his best to not gape at Roxy. She'd always been somewhat suspicious of him when he did just about anything, but the fact that she'd done actual research this time was something new. She had played her hand, and he was cornered. But still, he found himself not sure what to say. "Well, c'mon, you little trouser snake," moving away from the door and sauntering toward him. She could tell she'd caught him dead to rights about something, but now she needed to find out what it was. "Ya' might as well 'fess up, because I somehow doubt you want mom and dad to know what you're up to." The mere thought brought a shiver to Mark and left a cold sweat on his brow. He swallowed, trying not to panic. Roxy had less mercy in a sibling confrontation than Mike Tyson had in the ring. He thought of the number of times she'd beaten his ass for tattling on her when they were younger, and how she'd always get some brutal form of revenge he was unlikely to forget. And he dreaded the thought of how she could screw this up for him. "I'm almost not wanting to find out, at least for a while, because watching your mind flop around in panic is kinda fun," she said, smirking as she stopped in front of him and leaned forward. "But I need to make a decision about whether the 'rents oughta know, so let's speed this up, okay?" She then turned and sat on the edge of his bed, leaning back on her hands, one leg crossed over the other as she looked at him pointedly. "Spill it, little brother." His mind raced. What could he tell her? She'd caught him in a flat-out lie that he had acquired his Falernian wine from a Ren Faire, and had no doubt pieced together that his other recent exotic acquisitions were likewise not from where he'd claimed. So what were her suspicions? She no doubt was assuming, quite reasonably, that he was involved in some illicit activity that

652. Part 1 of Kathleen DuVal's return to the podcast to talk about her book, Native Nations: A Millennium in North America. “Pulitzer Prize Winner - National Bestseller - A magisterial overview of a thousand years of Native American history (The New York Review of Books), from the rise of ancient cities more than a thousand years ago to fights for sovereignty that continue today. Winner of the Bancroft Prize, the Cundill History Prize, and the Mark Lynton History Prize. Long before the colonization of North America, Indigenous Americans built diverse civilizations and adapted to a changing world in ways that reverberated globally. And, as award-winning historian Kathleen DuVal vividly recounts, when Europeans did arrive, no civilization came to a halt because of a few wandering explorers, even when the strangers came well armed.” (Publisher's website), Now available: Liberty in Louisiana: A Comedy. The oldest play about Louisiana, author James Workman wrote it as a celebration of the Louisiana Purchase. Now it is back in print for the first time in 221 years. Order your copy today! This week in the Louisiana Anthology. Chad Adams. How to Walk in the Marsh. I stood behind the center console of my dad's flatboat, tucked closely against him, prouder than any seven-year-old boy could be, riding along while he drove in the darkness of an early cold November morning. We slowly maneuvered through the salty marshes of southern Louisiana in eager pursuit of my very first duck hunt.     As the blistering air seeped through the holes in my oversized camouflaged ski-mask, and the smell of the sputtering motor's exhaust made my nostrils flare, I worked a spotlight at my dad's command. The beam of light shined just over the head of our giddy black Labrador Retriever, past the bow of the boat, and onto the water in front of us. I was outright shivering, but not from the freezing weather. Instead, I was shaking from the icy adrenaline that ran through my veins and throughout all fifty-five pounds of me as I replayed in my head all the stories my dad told me leading up to this moment about the amazing experience of duck hunting. This week in Louisiana history. November 15, 1730. Gov. Perier and French defeated the Natchez Indians. This week in New Orleans history. The Central City Branch of the New Orleans Public Library opened in the Mahalia Jackson Childhood and Family Learning Center on November 15, 2010. This week in Louisiana. Louisiana Renaissance Festival Faire Grounds: 46468 River Rd, Hammond LA, 70401 2025 Theme Weekends Nov 1-2 All Hallows Weekend Nov 8-9 Pirate Weekend Nov 15-16 Celtic Weekend Nov 22-23 Wizards and Legends Nov 28-30 Viking Dec 6-7 Yuletide Market Also on Dec 6 and 7  Fireworks 9:45 AM to 5:00 PM Postcards from Louisiana. Doreen at Snug Harbor.  Listen on Apple Podcasts. Listen on audible. Listen on Spotify. Listen on TuneIn. Listen on iHeartRadio. The Louisiana Anthology Home Page. Like us on Facebook. 

Ant Celestino joins the book club with the collected edition of the Rogue Trooper reboot: The War Machine. You can get your copy in the 2000AD store. And stay tuned to the end for a surprise from your favourite Saturday morning cartoon! Follow Ant's theme tune project on his YouTube.You can find a list of all the upcoming books on the Facebook page, follow the podcast on instagram, Threads, Mastodon, and BlueSky. And email me comments and suggestions to MCBCpodcast@gmail.comMusic used in this episode is Circuit Breaker by the artist Robodub. Click here to listen to the episode online. Or Download here Right click and choose save link as to download to your computer.

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

Gillian McAllister and Holly Seddon chat to award winning, bestselling historical fiction author, Stacey Halls about getting published, finding ideas through research and getting the words down. If you enjoy this podcast episode, please remember to rate, review and buy our books!

How Sid Caesar Reinvented American Comedy. Get all the news you need by listening to WBZ - Boston's News Radio! We're here for you, 24/7. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Discovering the History of Our Favorite Christmas Celebrations. Get all the news you need by listening to WBZ - Boston's News Radio! We're here for you, 24/7. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The Time Riders: Part 6 An Orgy In Imperial Rome. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Another Time Excursion. "How's your head?" Becky asked as they walked down the hallway, gazing in wonder at the ornate mosaic that covered the floor and stretched ahead of them. The walls, no doubt made of brick, were covered in plaster, upon which colorful (and often erotic) frescoes were painted. While the clothing she was wearing in theory resembled the stola and other clothes worn by Roman women, hers was considerably abbreviated, if not downright scandalous. The white garment hung off her sensual curves, spilling away from her voluptuous tits, which could be seen through the mostly diaphanous material. Gold bracelets and bangles adorned her arms and a thin gold chain with tiny jewels sat on her ankle. She was wearing her golden-blonde hair up atop her head, but playful wisps and curls hung down in places, giving it a sassy and almost playful look. A gold-colored belt cinched in at her tiny waist, making her bust look even bigger. Mark grimaced and lightly thumped the heel of his palm against the side of his head, as if trying to jar his brain loose. "It kinda hurts, to be honest, like a buzzing headache," he muttered, waiting for his eye to stop twitching. "Who'd have thought getting advanced cybernetics installed in your noggin would hurt?" "Oh, come now, you're hardly Steve Austin," Becky chided, smiling at his outfit while they walked. "It was just a little bio-chip installed into your Broca's area to help you get by quickly with the whole language thing." "Well, if Latin is supposed to sound like the white noise on a grandpa TV combined with a mosquito buzzing in your ear, then it's working," Mark groused, wiggling his jaw to see if opening up his ear canals helped at all in getting rid of this unwelcome phenomenon. "How long did they say it usually lasted?" "Just an hour," Becky replied, stopping and fiddling with Mark's tunic, adjusting it to show off his handsome physique to best effect. The simple leather belt hung loosely on his small waist, more for contrast than anything. He was wearing very simple sandals on his feet. She hadn't had to do very much to his dark hair to achieve the look she wanted, merely tousling it after rubbing in a little olive oil, making it wavy and pleasing to look at. "Should stop any time now." And as if acceding to the lovely woman's request, the buzzing and throbbing stopped suddenly. Mark's eyes widened slightly at the sudden quiet inside his cranial grape. Becky saw his expression change and smiled, knowing what had happened. "Hmm," she purred, tracing a finger down his form and over his cock beneath his period clothes. "Estne volumen in tunica, an solum tibi libet me videre?" Mark grinned, understanding what she had said. "Ego sum laetus video vidi te!" he replied readily. "Well, I know you're happy to see these;” Becky whispered, leaning close and using a finger to tug down the edge of her barely-there clothing and exposing her tit to him, the pink nipples begging for his attention. "But;” she said, replacing the clothing and standing up again, "; we're here to take part in a Roman orgy, so we'd best get moving now that you're feeling better." Mark exhaled, composing himself after her tease, and nodded. "All right. So what's the drill again?" "Your name is Bonosus," Becky instructed, touching up his outfit again. "You're a slave from Spain, meaning that you have no rights. But don't worry, I own you, and I am very specific about who can do what with you." "So, no guy is gonna try and fuck me in the ass, right?" Mark asked somewhat nervously, smiling. Becky smiled: "Pity you won't try it, you might like it. However, no, I'll simply explain that you're off-limits to men, because you're being saved for my uncle, who is away on the German border. Me, I'm a patrician woman, visiting Rome, and I'm looking for a good time. My name is Aurora. If you really need my attention and are worried about speaking in Latin, we'll speak in English, quietly. Got it?" "Okay, what should I expect?" he queried. "I did a little research, looking for who had a reputation for throwing orgies and parties that tended to bring out the morals police," she answered, adjusting her own outfit now. Neither of them was wearing undergarments, and if the light caught the bottom portion of her so-called dress just right, Mark could see her cunt. "This villa is far enough on the outskirts of Rome that we're very unlikely to get a visit." She leaned back against the wall, smiling saucily as she drew him into her, their pelvises pressing together as she looked up at him. "So we're going to go in there, and fuck, and fuck, and fuck, with anyone and everyone we choose," she whispered in his ear. "Fuck every single girl that catches your fancy, Mark. Those anacept pills we took will cover us against all known transmitted diseases for a week, and they make us temporarily infertile. No consequences. And the tiny tabs on our skin will keep our libidos from flagging for a whole day." "That sounds great," he agreed, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Really great." "Mark, I am going to behave like I haven't since my wildest nights in college," Becky said softly, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair as she looked up into his eyes. He could feel her breathing getting heavy. She was really turned on by what they were about to do. "Are you sure you're prepared to see me like that?" Mark nodded: "I don't own you, Becks. We're time travel partners, and damned good ones. It's not like we're in love. Do what you like, I promise, it's fine." "Hmm, just when I thought you couldn't get more attractive;” she purred, pulling him in for a deep kiss while they leaned against the wall. She broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Do' you remember where all our supplies are, in case things happen to go south?" Mark nodded again. "Back in the little vestibule near the servants' rooms. I remember. Now let's do this; Mistress Aurora." "God, I could get used to hearing that," Becky sighed, shivering as she straightened up and prepared herself. "Remember; lots of drinking, eating, music, dancing and fucking. Do whatever the Hell feels good tonight, Mark, this is a real Roman orgy." She took him by the hand and smiled wickedly. "Now let's go get 'em, tiger;” Mark was laughing and drinking wine from a silver goblet, while watching a group of slave girls dance in the middle of the floor. The girls, who were clearly from all around the Empire, were whirling and cavorting about while drums and cymbals clashed out a rhythmic beat for them to follow. They wore sheer material draping down from their waists between their legs, and nothing else. Their tits bounced and jiggled about as they twirled about one another, letting out sensuous calls on occasion. The hosts of the day's festivities, a patrician man named Flavius and his lovely wife Pompeneia, were very wealthy, and they owned over five hundred slaves, spread out among three separate properties spaced around the capital. Mark had even heard tell that they owned land in Egypt and Byzantium. Wealthy indeed. There were nearly fifty proper guests, excluding slaves and attendants, so the place was fairly bustling with people. Patricians, plebeians, freedmen, freedwomen and slaves, all were to enjoy themselves tonight. And all at the request of the guest of honor, the stunning Aurora of the fabled Horatius family. Mark pried his eyes away from the dancing girls long enough to look around for his 'mistress'. He finally espied her, lying stretched out on a lectus, along with their hostess, Pompeneia, hungrily swallowing one another's tongue while they groped each other. Against all odds, 'Aurora' still had her clothes on, although only barely. Mistress Horatia Aurora had, as guest of honor, requested that in the name of the goddess Feronia, that the slaves be allowed to celebrate tonight as well, free of consequence, as long as they also performed their assigned duties. If not actively seeing to an assignment, they were allowed to sit, although they had to accede their seat to anyone of a higher station who needed it. They would also still oblige guests who wished to be serviced by the slave in question, and the Flavius household's slaves were all available to anyone who attended. Mark looked back at the dance now, seeing that it was winding down, with the girls letting out calls that there supposed to represent cranes or herons crying out for mates. That was an invitation for anyone inclined to come and take them once the dance had ended. They all fell still in various poses as the drums and cymbals stopped and the room erupted in applause and cheers for their efforts. Mark smiled as one bronze-skinned beauty on the floor caught his eye. As the dancers dispersed into the crowd, she slowly walked over to him, her deep hazel eyes liquid with passion. Mark greeted her with a cup of wine, offering it to her. "I thank you," she said in a heavy accent, her Latin speech seeming formal. "Tonight is a special night indeed, is it not?" Mark paused for a half second as the tiny chip in his brain listened to what she was saying and translated it for him. Weirder still, it translated what she was saying in her voice, but in English. Her English voice sounded quite amazing to him, and he felt a stirring in his loins as he gazed at her body. He thought of how to respond, the translation coming to him readily, in his voice, so that he knew how to sound when he said it. This technology blew his mind, somewhat literally. "Yeah," he replied in Latin, nodding as he clinked his silver goblet against hers. "I am enjoying it. You dance very well." "I have to," she replied, using two hands to bring the goblet up to her lips and sipping from it, as if she'd never had wine before. Hell, maybe she hadn't for all he knew. "If a dancer does not dance well in the Flavius household, demotion to some other task, probably much more horrible, awaits them. I need to be a good dancer, if I am to keep my coveted position." "I'm sure your masters have many coveted positions where you're concerned," Mark quipped, smirking. The girl blushed and giggled, taking another sip of her wine and looked at him. "You are slave to the Mistress Aurora, yes?" Mark nodded: "I am." "What is it like to be her slave?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. Mark was the tallest person in the room, and it wasn't going unnoticed. Becky was certainly the tallest woman, but he'd heard her jest about having German barbarians in her ancestry. Everyone laughed it off, and the party continued. Mark considered for a moment before answering. "Well, I like it a lot. Sure beats the life I was living before I became her slave." "Are you her only slave?" queried the girl, clearly more than a little intrigued. She didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that every time he wasn't speaking, Mark's eyes went down to her tits. They weren't as big as Becky's by any means, but they were still very nice, her soft light brown skin capped with darker brown aureoles and pronounced nipples. "Well, no," he lied, thinking on his feet. He hadn't really expected any questions along this line and would have to tell Becky whatever he said, so they could coordinate their stories if the matter came up. "I'm not really any good at counting, but there's always a lot of us around." "What do you do for her?" Shit, better make this simple but good; he thought to himself. "I'm her personal servant. I do all the most personal and intimate things for her. I dress her, I taste her food for her, I bathe her;” "Do you fuck her?" she inquired, looking over the rim of her silver cup as she took another drink, a deeper one this time. So this was the crux question, he realized. He simply nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh," she said in a quiet voice, as if his words were of concern for her. "Do; do her other servants fuck her?" He smirked: "None of the male ones, now that she's got me." She raised her eyebrow at his statement and took another drink. "Is that so?" Mark shook his head for a moment, as if he was remembering something. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude, I didn't ask your name." The girl made a wry face. "My name? Why would anyone ask for my name? I am a slave." Mark shrugged. "Well, so am I. Tell me your name, so I know what I'll be calling out in an hour." The girl almost choked on her wine, but recovered and looked up at him, as if assessing him. Finally she spoke: "Before I became a slave, my name was Nanu." Mark wasn't terribly surprised when the stupid chip in his head found out what the name meant. "So you're Egyptian and your name means 'pretty' or 'cute.'" She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to fathom how he could have possibly known that. "What is your mistress' name in my language?" she asked suspiciously. Mark blinked for a moment. "Khepri nebet." She moved closer to him. "What is your name, slave?" He smiled at her warmly, deciding it was time to move things along. "My name is Bonosus, Nanu, and I am the slave who is going to fuck you." Nanu smiled and reached out a hand to him. Becky panted as she rocked back and forth on her knees, pressing her face into her hostess' hairy cunt, lashing it with her tongue. Behind her, one of Pompeneia's slaves was gripping her hips and plowing his hard cock in and out of Becky, trying to keep up with her lusty pace. He wasn't nearly as large as Mark, nor was he as talented, but he would make her cum, given the environment. Becky was here to fuck in a Roman orgy, and what individual participants might lack in skill, her excitement would certainly make up for. Pompeneia moaned and gripped Becky's hair, loosening it further from its carefully piled arrangement. Becky didn't mind, though, as she expected to look fully disheveled and thoroughly fucked by the time this orgy was over. She'd had several cups of aged wine already and was feeling uninhibited, even for her. She slid two fingers inside her hostess, making her moan and churn her matronly hips while Becky took another stiff drink from her goblet. She then returned her mouth to Pompeneia's snatch, allowing rivulets of the dark wine to flow out over her engorged vulva before sucking on it hungrily, making the patrician woman gasp and groan loudly and thrash about on the lectus she was splayed on. The slave behind her pistoned his hips against her while she ground back against him, taking his cock as deep inside her as she could. She could feel him swelling and knew he was close to cumming, but she didn't mind if she didn't climax yet, because the day was young, and this orgy had barely started. There were so many people left to fuck. Besides, she could always track down her darling Mark if she needed serious attention, after all. The slave grunted and let out a low moan before he began spurting his cum inside her. Becky moaned into Pompeneia's cunt, sending her over the edge and making her cum shamelessly, her fat tits flopping about for all to see. Nobody cared, or if they did, they were delighted by it. There was no judgment at this orgy. As the slave pulled out, Becky clambered on top of Pompeneia and they kissed deeply, wrapping their arms around one another, tongues plunging. Becky finally sat up, smiling and straddling her hostess' hips. She smirked down at the Roman woman and then reached beneath herself, flexing her cunt muscles and teasing out the cum that the slave had just deposited in her. She smeared it all over Pompeneia's thatch and nether lips, before dragging her shaved twat up her lover's body, leaving a glistening and sticky trail of cum along the way. She squirmed and writhed on Pompeneia's tits, smearing them in the slave's essence while trying to get one of the nipples inside her cunt. Finally she wiggled her way up to Pompeneia's mouth, and the older woman gripped Becky's thighs and sucked on her smooth cunt hungrily, coaxing out all the cum she could from her guest. Becky smiled and reached back with one hand to finger Pompeneia's gooey cunt, bringing her to yet another climax, the fourth she'd received from Becky. The teacher had no doubt this woman would remember her very fondly. She finally clambered off Pompeneia and knelt beside her, the two of them kissing tenderly, sharing the cum from the slave between them, followed by Becky licking the residue off her lover's face. They whispered to one another before Becky stood and strutted away, knowing that Pompeneia's eyes were fixated on her glorious, toned ass. It felt good, knowing she was the object of desire for every single person in the entire household. Becky looked around in wonder, surrounded by actual Roman artwork, in a completely intact home with a glorious mosaic tile floor depicting a couple making love and then a hunting scene involving a lion. The plastered walls were painted in bright colors. The furniture, made of wood with brass fittings and comfortable cushions, was currently being put to the test as couples or groups around her fucked and made love in every conceivable position. She gazed down at the silver goblet in her hand, made of beaten silver and decorated with glass prisms and with a poem etched into its circumference. She picked up a small, sticky honey cake from a table, then took a bite from it before smiling wickedly and pressing it to her glorious tits, smearing the sticky honey all over them. As a female slave passed by, Becky took her gently by the arm and pulled her into an embrace, gently pushing her head down. The slave understood immediately and began kissing her tits, slithering her tongue around to get the gooey sweetness off Becky. The blonde woman was shivering and groaning while already smearing the honey cake against her cunt. Mark was sitting on in a low chair in a side room, holding Nanu by the waist while she bounced up and down on his lap, her arms around his shoulders and her eyes staring down into his. Her greedy cunt swallowed his cock, making her gasp and groan with each motion. Her inner muscles squeezed around him, and while Becky was definitely more skilled, and perhaps even tighter, the fact that he was actually fucking a Roman slave was an incredible thrill. She jammed her lips to his and kissed him feverishly, her fingernails raking over his back as she ground down on him, hissing and panting with lust. He found her to be incredibly exotic, and he realized that it might because he'd never met a true ethnic Egyptian before. As far as he knew, the bloodline of the ancient Egyptians had become extinct. She certainly looked exotic to him, with her deeply tan skin, hazel eyes and straight, coal-black hair. He used his strong arms to help move her up and down, almost spiking her on his cock, and her panting became a delightful yelping. There were loud cries of ecstasy from all over the house, so they paid no attention to anything else. She kissed him again before seizing up and shuddering, groaning loudly. She threw her head back and pressed her cunt down as hard as she could, cumming wildly. Mark kept pumping relentlessly, loving how her snatch clenched around him. Nanu flopped backward, her head now on the floor, arms splayed and her back arched, still pinned to Mark by his cock. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily, still trembling. He smiled down at the girl, waiting for her to recover. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he took her arms and gently pulled her up to him. She almost purred and nuzzled against him, still in the throes of a sultry bliss that filled her. Nanu kissed him everywhere she could reach, including his fingertips. "You are an exquisite lover," she murmured, looking deep into his eyes and caressing his face. "No wonder your mistress needs only you for fucking." He smiled back: "I'm just happy that she doesn't mind sharing me, because I am enjoying fucking you too." She went back to kissing him gently, and was whispering things against his skin, but too softly for him to understand. She finally looked back up at him. "But you have not yet cum." Mark shook his head. "Do you fear giving me a child?" Nanu asked. He shook his head again. "Then are you barren?" "Only for this week," he quipped, grinning and enjoying her confusion at his statement. "Don't worry, I'm just conserving my strength. This orgy is a long way from over, and if I cum now, I don't know how long it will take me to recover." "Do you promise to cum in me?" Nanu asked expectantly. "I; I am just a slave, I know, but I like you, Bonosus. I want to feel your cum in me, especially if you cannot give me a child." "I think I can make that promise;” Mark replied, pulling her in for another kiss. Becky shivered as she sat on the stone bench, centered over a hole as she started to pee. She'd already cum at least six times, and she had the distinct feeling the tally would be sixty before the night was out. One woman and one man slave leaned down on either side of her and began sliding and flickering their tongues around her rock-hard nipples, making her moan in delight. She felt her legs being parted and smiled down at a freedwoman who leaned in and tongued her cunt attentively, even here in the cultus, the small, private bathroom of the Flavius family. Becky sighed and cradled the head of the woman licking her cunt, while squirming her tits against the mouths of the two slaves sucking them. The tongue of the woman between her legs sent tingles through her, and she could feel another climax building rapidly. Everything about this setting, this experience, was making her hornier and more sensitive than ever. She wrapped her arms around the necks of the man and woman sucking on her nipples and pulled them in tight, arching her back and groaning very loudly as she came, squirting into the face of the woman licking her cunt. She bucked and writhed on the seat, thankful for the anacept pills she and Mark had taken, since she'd done quite a bit of research on Roman hygiene practices. She stood finally, releasing the two slaves who were sucking on her tits, while the girl between her legs merely knelt back a little and kept her mouth pressed to Becky's cunt, massaging it with her tongue. Becky smiled down at her dreamily and winked before pulling her to her feet. They kissed deeply and then she led her out of the room, followed by the slaves. "Go and find my manservant for me," Becky instructed. "Bring him to me and I'll let him fuck you. He is a wonderful lover." The woman hurried off, while Becky found a couch and reclined, her legs spread wide. She let the male slave lap at her gooey cunt while she made out with the female. She felt so deliciously depraved in this setting, like she could let everything go and act like a harlot without consequence. Which she could. The freedwoman returned some minutes later (Becky barely remembered having sent her at this point), with Mark following. He was delightfully naked, his cock glistening with lubrication. He was holding the hand of a dark-skinned and dark-haired girl, who was clearly a slave and following behind him. The girl gaped at Becky in awe. "Hey, Becks," Mark said cheerfully in English, almost laughing as the chip in his noggin tried to translate what he was saying into Latin. "Enjoying yourself?" "Hmm, you have no idea, baby," the blonde woman purred, stretching her arms over her head so that her glorious tits thrust up toward the ceiling. "I see you've found yourself a pretty little playmate. She was one of the dancers from earlier, right?" "Yeah, I wanna see if I can somehow get all eight to fuck me at once," Mark replied, grinning. "That'll beat my record by at least a factor of; wait; you, Alexandra and her servant Lisette all at once; divided into eight;” "Don't strain yourself, Einstein," Becky said dryly. "Just suffice to say that fucking eight Roman slave-dancers at once will be more than anyone else you know will ever accomplish." "Except you, I'm betting," Mark pointed out, smirking. "Is that a challenge, young man?" Becky asked, raising her eyebrow. "What'll we wager?" he queried. He had no particular confidence that he could outfuck his Physics teacher, because she had proven to be quite a sex fiend, but he was more than willing to try, here in Imperial Rome. "Tell you what;” Becky suggested, sitting up on the couch at looking up at him, smiling lightly. "If I win, you have to let the man of my choice here in this orgy fuck you in the ass." Mark was very still, a shiver of dread going up his spine. He swallowed, waiting to hear what else she had to say. "But, if you manage to fuck more girls at one time than I take of male and female lovers at one time, I'll buy your cute little girlfriend from our host and make her ours, okay?" Mark could barely process what he was hearing. He turned his head and stared at Nanu, weighing the price of 'owning' her versus having his ass plowed by some random Roman dude. The perils of time travel. But he'd already been shot and survived, right? "You're on, Becks," he said finally. "Ya' only live once, right?" "That's the spirit," she cooed, winking at him. "Tu solum vivis unum tempus! As long as you save some of that splendid stamina and cum of yours for me. So, are you going to introduce me to your little friend?" Mark nodded and pulled the Egyptian girl forward. She seemed rather intimidated. "Becks, this is Nanu. She's Egyptian." Becky smiled kindly and patted her soft lap. Nanu let go of Mark's hand and eased herself carefully onto the blonde goddess' lap, sitting sideways. Becky put her arms around the girl's waist and looked her up and down. "Hmm, very nice, Mark;” Becky said quietly before pulling Nanu gently into her and kissing her warmly. To her credit, the slave girl did not resist at all, but melted into the kiss, moaning in pleasure. She squirmed around until she was straddling Becky, her legs hitched behind her back, and their tits squashed together. Mark stood closer and watched eagerly as their tongues tangled and they began caressing and fondling one another. Nanu shivered under Becky's divine touch, and he knew she was incredibly aroused already. Their kiss became sloppy, and they slid their tongues around one another's faces, leaving them glistening and sticky. Becky took Nanu's bottom lip in her mouth, sucking it in. The slave shivered again and let out a tiny whimper, before pulling back from the kiss and touching her fingers to the lip. She examined the fingers, noticing a trace of blood. "Yes, I bit your lip," Becky whispered to her only loud enough for Nanu and Mark to hear. "By making you bleed from our kiss, I have stated my intent to own you, Nanu. Would you like that?" Nanu's eyes widened and she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Good," Becky said, reaching between them and cupping the Egyptian girl's tit, giving it a gentle feel. "Now all my naughty little Bonosus has to do is manage to fuck all eight of you dancing girls at once in order to make that happen. You might want to help him a little;” She allowed the slave girl to stand and gave her a gentle pat on the rear. Nanu stood in front of Mark for a moment, looking up at him, and then hurried off. He then heard Becky giggling. "Goodness, Mark, how hard did you fuck her to make her fall that much in love with you already?" the blonde asked, her beautiful blue eyes glinting with mirth. Mark tried not to frown. "I didn't have to fuck her that hard, thank you. I've fucked you a lot harder on countless occasions." "And you'll have to fuck me much harder still to make me fall in love with you, handsome," she cooed, reaching out and stroking his cock gently. "It's time for my surprise. Have you put the little speaker things all around?" Mark nodded: "The switch to activate them and the music is in the little satchel we brought. I'll be ready." Becky smiled and stood up, moving close to Mark so that their bodies were pressing and his cock was nestled against her slick cunt, and already hardening from the contact. She smiled and traced a finger along his swelling cock while looking up into his eyes. "I'm glad to be here, Mark," she said softly, knowing that many sets of eyes were on them, and quite envious of them both. "But I'm mostly glad to be here sharing this with you. I couldn't have asked for a better time travel partner." They kissed tenderly for a moment before Becky pulled back and winked. "I'm gonna go get dressed; be ready for me." She scampered off, and he watched her magnificent ass wiggle away from him. He noticed he wasn't the only one staring. He wandered around and made sure that all the 'speakers' were strategically placed around the room for Becky's performance. They looked and felt like rocks, to be honest, so he had no idea how they worked. All he knew was that he'd tested them, and they did. Hell, they even had the music they were meant to play stored in them! Future-tech was really something. He remembered how they'd found a chrono-merchant, right in his hometown, in a secluded store he'd never noticed before. Chester had pointed them to the merchant in question, and he was happy to help them. Most of his time was spent helping customers from the far future, who happened to be visiting Mark and Becky's era, so having some locals was a refreshing change for him. The student and teacher had expressed their wish to go back to Imperial Rome and attend a real orgy. The man smiled slyly and showed them a range of items he thought they might need; clothing, currency, subtle but advanced medications to protect themselves; All it cost Mark was his collection of six vintage Star Wars Pez dispensers. Apparently, originals were big collector's items in the future. "Remind me to come back to you with my dad's Micronauts and Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots!" Mark had laughed. Mark felt well-prepared for this trip, and he had to admit, he was enjoying himself. He drank from his wine while standing in front of a patrician woman, who was sitting naked on a couch and slurping hungrily back and forth on his cock. He gazed around, noting the sumptuous array of foods laid out in vast quantities for the event; it was very hard for many of the slaves to restrain themselves from eating greedily, since this type of generosity was almost unknown to them. Loaves of bread, honey-cakes, dates, figs, stuffed dormice, varieties of pulses, apricots, various fish, cheeses, boar meat, olives, and caviar, which he'd heard the hostess Pompeneia brag to Becky about being sent straight from Persia. He'd never tried caviar before, and he was surprised that he actually liked it. He blinked as he felt the patrician woman pull her mouth off his throbbing cock, which she had brought back to an impressive hardness. She had then bent over the couch, in full view of everyone in the room, and shamelessly reached back and spread her ass cheeks, exposing her puckered knot and asking him to fuck her ass. Mark bit his lip, wondering what to do; Becky wouldn't be much longer in getting ready, but slaves were obliged to satisfy all favors required of them by the legitimate guests, especially the higher-ranking patricians. He couldn't say no. He stepped up and took hold of her wobbly ass cheeks, steadying his cock against her. She moaned in anticipation of him entering her. He reached down and ran his hand up and down her sloppy cunt for several seconds, and used that lubrication to prepare her ass, sticking his index finger inside her and twisting it around. The woman groaned loudly, and he realized that she was making a show of it, announcing that she was the one getting fucked by this tall, handsome and mysterious Spanish slave of Lady Aurora's. Apparently he was something of a commodity. He would fuck her ass fast and hard, making her cum, so that he could return to his assignment from Becky. He took hold of his cock and pressed the head against her little star, pushing it through. She grunted and let out a moan. Lots of people were watching, including more than a few slaves. Slowly and firmly, Mark slid his turgid phallus deep inside her, making her cry out so loudly that he was certain she could be heard outside the villa, despite all the other carnal happenings around them. Here goes nothing; He gripped her hips and leaned over her, pressing her down into the couch as she wailed again. He began pumping in and out strongly, plowing deep inside her. Clearly she was no stranger to this, because she wasn't nearly as tight as Becky. He fucked her ass in a steady rhythm, watching as his own pulsing shaft slid in and out of her. She gasped and yelped, putting on a show for those watching. Her hands kept her ass cheeks pulled wide, so everyone could see how deep inside her Mark was. Then he took the initiative. Everyone gasped as he let go of her hips and gripped both of her wrists, pulling back toward himself and arching her spine, even as he pressed forward into her more strongly with each stroke. The woman seemed to choke on her breath, shaking and looking back at him in shock. Her face was variously flushed and pale, depending on where one looked. Her eyes seemed bleary, as if she was on the verge of tears. Her erect nipples declared her arousal as her tits protruded far in front of her back-stretched arms. He rode her as though she was a bridled horse, only her two arm were the reins. The full floppy tits shook wildly with his aggressive pounding, grinding, fucking of her asshole. But she didn't object to his aggression or dominance. "Do you think Mistress Horatia lets him take her that way?" he heard one woman ask another as she gazed on in rapt wonder. "If she does, she's a lucky cunt, she is;” whispered the other woman in response. And still he plunged his cock deep inside her ass, making the woman squeal and churn beneath him, struggling to move, but pinned by his superior strength. He could tell that the other women (and most likely some men) were jealous, because they were beginning to talk shit about her quietly. "Qualem muleirculam!" whispered a man gazing one in envy. That seemed a little harsh; Mark wasn't sure she was actually a bimbo. A shameless slut, sure. But wasn't everyone here today? "Pedica meo!" she gasped, squeezing her ass around him. "Pedica meo!" Mark fucked her faster and stronger still, driving his cock deep into her bowels, until she sounded like she was having a severe asthma attack. She wheezed and struggled, but he held her immobilized. She could not escape this exquisite torture unless he let her. He could feel her tightening, though, and he knew she wouldn't last long; exactly what he wanted. He would make sure she got the show she desired. His hips began pistoning rapidly, but with even more strength. The woman's eyes rolled into her head and her mouth dropped open. Her entire body shuddered in a long wave, and she screeched, battered by endless waves of pleasure as the orgasm crashed over her. She clenched her teeth and writhed, as if trying to escape, but she had already completely surrendered to her blissful fate. Mark dropped her wrists and now gripped her long, kinky brown hair, yanking on it to pull her up. She gasped at the unexpected but glorious sting and found herself pulled up and back against him. His hips still pumped against her ass cheeks, sliding his cock deep within, while his strong hands began to grope and almost maul her flushed, sweaty body. Helpless before him, she allowed the violation readily, whimpering and in tears. "Es scortum obscenus vilis," he growled in her ear before biting it and making her writhe in need. "You are a vile, dirty little whore, aren't you?" "Etiam!" she gasped, as his hand gripped her chin and turned her face forcefully to look into his eyes. "Yes, I am a vile, dirty whore! Fuck me in my shame!" He fucked her until she was almost limp, and finally slid out of her ass, the abused knot pulling back along with his shaft obscenely, a fact noted and commented on by anyone close enough to see. She collapsed forward over the couch again, trembling, but saying nothing. Mark turned his body and caught the gaze of another woman, who hustled over, knelt and began sucking on his cock without question. He waited while she cleaned him dutifully before noticing Becky standing by a dark corner, watching in amusement. She raised an eyebrow and he nodded. Without further ado, he subtly retrieved the remote for the things that were supposed to be speakers, and held his arms up, beckoning everyone to gather in. As the naked crowd moved in, the host and hostess came and stood near him, smiling pleasantly. Pompeneia explained that they were now to be entertained by the guest of honor, who would be dancing for them all. As if on cue with her words, slaves around the room modified the intensity of the flames coming from the braziers that illuminated the room, making it dimmer and more sensual, except for an area in the central expanse. Mark subtly pressed a button on a tiny remote he was hiding in his hand. Music emanated from around the room from the concealed speakers. He'd remembered what the T E A agents had told him about anachronistic technologies and how they would rarely work in times or eras they were not known in, but he seemed to be getting away with it so far. It occurred to him that this meant the technologies he and Becky were using were not to be discovered. Yet. He smiled as Becky seemed to shift and ripple into view, because of the flickering brazier flames. The music, he knew, would be like nothing these people had ever heard before. True, it wasn't metal, but the arrangements and instruments would be alien. Not to mention the Phil Spector-esque 'Wall of Sound' involved. Becky had told him the song was called 'Gypsy', and she now spread her arms over the head, as diaphanous strips of translucent material curled sensuously around her lovely form, and gems glittered on her forehead and navel. Gold anklets tinkled on her feet. Mark had never seen 'Lord of the Dance' before, but watching Becky, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. As wind instruments began playing while drums and strings kept a backbeat, Becky snaked and twirled around the circular space in time with the music. Everyone watched her, rapt. Mark's eyes flicked over and he saw Nanu looking on from farther back in the room, standing atop a bench to get a better view. Her eyes were wide with awe. People were still whispering as they watched; for a patrician woman to dance this way, or even know how to dance this way, was scandalous, and they loved every second of her performance. The music grew louder and more intense as the wall of sound, a concept these people couldn't even readily grasp, filled the venereum. Becky continued her cavorting, her tits bouncing about beneath the outfit she was wearing. It was more of a tease than anything, because it concealed pretty much nothing. When she kicked high, she showed her cunt to everyone. She seemingly didn't care, or was enjoying it. Probably the latter, knowing her as he did now. The music reached a crescendo and then stopped, with Becky collapsing to a sitting position, curled in on herself. The crowd clapped, cheered and catcalled enthusiastically. Seconds later, another musical piece began, this one in a style probably more familiar to the onlookers. Mark knew it was from the soundtrack of the movie 'Alexander'. It opened with tinkling chimes and what sounded like hooting bird calls. Becky slowly rose to her feet, holding an elaborate pose. Then what sounded like four hammers striking an anvil rang across the space, followed by a frenetic drum beat. Becky broke into a wild dance, spinning and prancing about with abandon. The crowd watched spellbound as the music echoed around the room. Becky's blue eyes flashed with excitement, knowing that the revelers were enchanted by her. There was no one in this room who was not sexually enthralled with her at this very moment. Even Mark, who knew her pretty much better that anyone on this planet, at any point in history, was watching her in quiet awe. It made her wet, thinking of what he'd do to her later after watching this. As she whirled in a circle close to the crowd, she took hold of a male dancer slave, and then another, leading them in the exotic and magnetic dance she now performed. Both men were naked, and she snaked her body against them, rapidly bringing them to hardness. The crowd cheered as she flung aside the strips of fabric that concealed her body, until she was as naked as the slaves. Everyone watched in astonishment as she dropped to her knees between the two men and began hungrily sucking on their cocks, each one in turn, then finally putting them both in her mouth at once, her cheeks bulging obscenely. "In the name of Suadela," breathed Pompeneia, standing next to Mark and staring dumbly. "Your mistress is the most magnificent whore I have ever seen, Bonosus." "Yeah, she's something, all right;” Mark agreed, blown away by his teacher's depravity. He thought about how much she'd been looking forward to behaving so luridly, without the consequences of biology or moral censure. She was time-travelling, for crying out loud; could there have been a better excuse? No, if he was allowed to fuck as many women as he wanted, even all at once, Becky had the right to do whatever the Hell suited her. It was a damned fool who held her to a different standard just because she was a woman. Guys who thought like that never got women as amazing as Becky. Loser incels; The music was finally ending, and he discreetly shut off the speakers with his tiny remote. Seconds later, he felt a dainty hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at Pompeneia, who smiled at him wickedly and cocked her head, indicating she should follow him. Mark took a deep breath and gently touched the nearly-invisible tab he'd put under his armpit, thankful for the vasopressin it was releasing into his system; "Heaven," Becky thought dreamily as she rode up and down slowly, the slave cock throbbing as it slid in and out of her ass. He was lying beneath her while she faced down his legs, his strong hands massaging her toned cheeks. His legs were spread to make way for another slave who knelt in front of her, thrusting back and forth to spear his rod in and out of her cunt. She groaned around the cock that was in her mouth, the freedman who owned it standing next to her beautiful face and letting her suck him. On either side, her hands were pumping vigorously on the cocks of two more slaves. "God," she thought, "I haven't done anything this wild since Frosh Week in my sophomore year. I've missed it so;” Five men at once. No regrets, no consequences. She almost giggled as she wondered where else she might fit another. Then two hands reached around from behind and began groping her ample tits, making her moan around the cock she was sucking on. Another slave had moved up behind her and settled down onto the face of the man beneath her. His hands groped her while the slave below him did something to his ass. Becky didn't care what they did to one another; she just wanted to feel as many men on her as possible. She shuddered as her nipples were pinched and she bobbed back and forth faster on the cock in her mouth, expertly swirling her tongue around the head and the shaft. Her hands twisted gently on the skin of the cocks she was holding, while she squeezed the ones inside her. She could feel them bumping against one another, separated only by a thin membrane between her cunt and ass. She gasped and almost wheezed, because they were striking deep inside her at different angles. The slave fucking her cunt was moving at an almost horizontal angle, while the one in her ass pushed straight up. It was almost; disorienting in a way. She gently pulled the two slaves she was jerking even closer, so that she could touch their cocks together, sliding them against one another. The slave behind her with his hands on her tits moved them, shifting them to her trim stomach as she pointed the two throbbing cocks at her tits, her hands stroking them rapidly. The slaves both moaned and shuddered as they spurted their cum across the expanse of her bosom, glazing the silken skin. Seconds later, she felt the cock in her mouth throb and swell, pumping a pearly offering down her throat. She swallowed hungrily, enthralled to be living her wild days all over again. Becky cried out and shook as an orgasm blossomed through her, just the first of many she planned to have in this particular tryst. Slaves leaned in and began lapping at the cum on her tits, tongues sliding along the skin or swirling around the nipples, occasionally biting and tugging on them. She leaned back, moving the man behind her to the side as she lay on the Nubian slave beneath her, still pumping in and out of her ass. She reached up and pulled the man fucking her cunt down by the shoulders, bringing him close and kissing him, their tongues rolling and wrestling about. They were both spearing up inside her now, their thrusts beginning to sync as she groaned shamelessly, filled with an exquisite wet heat. The climax that followed seconds later rocked her to her core, but she powered through it, determined to have as many more as possible. Now she let the two men fuck her while she took another hard cock in her mouth, stretching her neck back and relaxing her throat, letting it slide back and forth inside her. She gripped the hips of the man fucking her face, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the unadulterated ecstasy flowing through her, needing more men to pleasure her; Mark was sitting back lazily in the shallow pool that dominated the palaestra of the Flavian villa. He gazed around at the ornate courtyard, surrounded by columns and burgeoning with ornamental plants and trees. Exotic animals like peacocks could be seen strutting across the grass; at least, they could where none of the orgy's attendees were making merry. He sighed as a dancer girl knelt behind him and massaged his shoulders, while two others were curled up against his sides, cooing and kissing his skin. Nanu, meanwhile, was sitting in his lap, facing out and moving up and down slowly on his cock, taking it deep inside herself, her fingers flexing against his supple thighs. She turned her head to look back at him, her hazel eyes glassy with pleasure. More of her fellow dancers crowded in, until he felt himself totally enveloped in wanton slave flesh. They kissed and nipped at his skin, giggling and whispering to one another. Mark knew he was supposed to be a slave, but he seemed to be getting better treatment than a lot of the guests who weren't slaves. He imagined it was because he was the manservant of the guest of honor, but he still felt like a king at the moment. One girl dangled rich grapes in front of his mouth and he bit several off, chewing and swallowing casually. Another then brought a cup of wine to his lips and he drank from it before she leaned in and kissed him, allowing the wine to flow back and forth between their mouths. As she pulled back from the kiss, she allowed the wine to spill out of her mouth, trickling down her neck and tits. Two other girls immediately leaned in and began licking the sweet offering from her skin. Nearby, on a well-cushioned couch, Lady Pompeneia was lying on her side, quite naked, moaning as her husband propped one of her legs in the air and knelt between them, sawing his cock in and out of his wife. She drank from her goblet and watched her slaves attend to Bonosus. She closed her eyes and rubbed one of her tits as she remembered what it had felt like to have his big, sturdy cock fucking her less than an hour ago, feeling his thick, warm cum pump deep inside her. She wondered how wonderful it must be to own a servant with these incredible qualities and envied Lady Aurora. She entertained the absurd notion of trying to buy him from her, but was reasonably certain that even the emperor himself wasn't rich enough to purchase the slave outright. She'd content herself with becoming friends with Lady Aurora Horatia and perhaps then having access to Bonosus' fine obelisk of endless erotic pleasures. She watched as Nanu, churning on Bonosus' lap, shuddered, arched her back and cried out, cumming hard. Two of the other dancers were sucking her tits and she seemed in ecstasy. Not that Pompeneia blamed her; Nanu was rather tiny, and that magnificent cock had to be battering the bottom of her lungs. The Egyptian girl sagged, and one of the other dancers gently pulled her off and over to the side. Nanu was immediately replaced by another girl, who straddled Bonosus' lap, facing him and sinking down with a loud sigh. Pompeneia herself shuddered and gripped her tit tightly as a little orgasm shivered through her, while her husband moaned and pushed tight against her, cumming in her. Standing nearby, a slave helped ease his master's cock out of Pompeneia and sucked it clean. The mistress of the house sighed and caressed herself, enjoying every moment of this day. What a splendid orgy this was proving to be. She sat up slowly and looked around, seeing people in ecstasy all around her; not far away, one of the guests had a servant girl pressed up against a column, and was fucking her eagerly. She was pumping her hips against him and gasping in delight. On the emerald grass nearby, two women were laying side-by-side, arms wrapped around one another while they sucked hungrily on each other's pussies. One of her slender, boyish manservants was getting fucked in the ass by a patrician man named Pontifex, and her slave was mewling loudly. She heard laughing and joyous talk as Lady Aurora entered the palaestra, completely naked and surrounded by slaves and guests, all basking in her glorious sensuality. She sauntered over to the pool and eased herself down into it, sighing and relaxing in the cool water. Pompeneia smirked; after all the endless fucking the Lady had been doing, she was surprised there weren't clouds of steam emanating from around Aurora, as the water touched her skin. She was possibly the only person in the villa to have fucked more than her servant Bonosus. Pompeneia smiled and eased herself down onto the couch, beckoning over a slave-girl to service her. "Well, Mark, I see you've won our little wager," Becky observed, smiling at him while two slaves massaged her shoulders. She parted her legs to allow a servant girl to massage her cunt, or occasionally go under the water to kiss and nibble at it. "I managed six lovers at once. You seem to have eight." "Only if we fudge," he admitted, looking around the dancer who churned on his cock, trying to keep her moaning down so he could talk. "I can reasonably do four; one on my cock, one on my mouth, and one in each hand. I; am not gonna take any in my ass, after all." "Well, at the very least you can tie me," Becky pointed out, smirking at him. "Think and try again. You won't even need to move." Mark frowned for a moment, and then gave his teacher's words some thought; he perked up after a few moments, and then nodded. He told the girl he was fucking to lean back slightly. As she did so, he beckoned another to come and stand upright between them. The slave-girl did so, and Mark started lapping at her wet twat while the girl impaled on his cock began kissing and tonguing her ass. He paused and instructed four more to kneel by his hands. They did as asked readily. He faced them in to one another in pairs, bodies squashed close together. He then pushed his four fingers on each hand into one of them, while wiggling his thumb into the other. They all moaned, because Mark had decent-sized hands and fingers (in any day and age), and began kissing and swallowing one another's tongues hungrily. "See?" Becky giggled. "Six for six, you've matched me now." "Uh-uh!" he called out, his voice muffled by the slippery twat of the slave-girl on his mouth. "Watch this!" The women all whined in protest as Mark stood up, especially the one who had been fucking him, but he assured them that this would take only a moment before all was right with the world. He got out of the water and lay down on the grass, his frame stretched out and his throbbing cock on display, pointing at the cerulean sky overhead. His arms were spread wide and his legs slightly parted. Mark quickly brought the six girls back to their original positions, with the girl who had been using his mouth now facing down his body, to kiss and play with the one bouncing up and down on his cock. The two sets of girls resumed their places on his fingers and thumbs, kissing each other eagerly again, enjoying this strange game. He began wiggling his still-wet toes, and the last two slave-dancers caught on quickly; they took hold of his ankles and lowered their gooey pussies down onto his feet, taking them inside their slippery tunnels and moaning loudly. "Octo!" Mark yelled triumphantly from beneath the cunt squirming on his face. Becky laughed in sheer delight, clapping in support of her student's ingenuity. Others looking on laughed and applauded also. A crowd was gathering around him, but everyone made sure that Lady Aurora, who had moved to the spot just vacated by her servant, could see easily. She knelt on the low, tiled bench below the water, her elbows on the grass, the endless soft blades tickling her tits as she watched. She wiggled her shapely ass, and a slave dutifully moved up behind her and slid his cock deep inside her while she gazed on. Mark was enjoying himself; never had he guessed he would have been fucking eight girls at once, not to mention Roman slave-dancers, two of whom he was pretty sure were sisters. He wiggled his fingers, thumbs and toes, he flickered and snaked his tongue inside the girl above him, and he pushed up and down with his hips, spearing deep inside the slave-girl, who cried out in rapture as his cock split her wet cunt wide open. She arched her back and cried out loudly, cumming hard. She slumped off to the side and was quickly replaced by Nanu, who was eager for more. She churned and writhed on him, occasionally looking over at Lady Aurora, who smiled and winked at her. He could feel them all squirming and trembling now, and pushed himself harder, sending them all over the edge; several moaned loudly while the one on his face kissed Nanu deeply as they both screamed, rocked by their orgasms. The girl riding his tongue fell off to the side, shaking and holding her cunt as she moaned in pleasure. He looked over at his teacher. "Becks," he panted, his face glistening with cum and flush with need. "I'm gonna cum, but I want it to be in you. Please;” Without a moment's hesitation, Becky stood, the crystalline water cascading off her glorious body. She clambered out and all the slave-girls moved aside readily, even Nanu, who dutifully knelt beside Lady Aurora as she straddled her manservant. "Thanks for waiting for me, Mark," Becky whispered as she teased her slippery cunt lips along his cock while resting her hands on his shoulders and looking down at him. "It means so much to me." "Means everything to me too, Becks," he replied, nodding. "Wanna give 'em a show, show 'em how we do it in the twenty-first century?" The blonde beauty smiled wickedly, and without another word, shoved herself down hard on her student's cock, making them both moan loudly as he pushed deep inside her. Everyone watched in awe as the two began fucking madly, Becky thrashing her hips back and forth while he pumped up and down rapidly inside her, battering her cervix with each thrust. His hands found her bouncing tits and squeezed them, making her cry out, her fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulders. Pompeneia and her husband Master Flavius stood right beside them, watching in fascination. Nanu was caressing and massaging Lady Aurora's flanks and ass while she fucked Bonosus, her deep hazel eyes staring longingly at them. Becky rode Mark harder and harder, his throbbing cock stretching her cunt deliciously, making her want to scream. She held on though, squeezing around Mark, thrilled to know that everyone's eyes were on them, watching them fuck with wild abandon. With every thrust she squeezed her ass cheeks tight, feeling Mark shudder below her. Mark was panting and grunting as he fough

This week on Smut Club Chelsea and Hannah are reviewing The Alpha's Saviour by Reece Barden.You can find every episode of Smut Club at www.smutclubpodcast.com

The Time Riders: Part 5 A Labyrinth Palace. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. The non-descript carriage had indeed made its way through Paris' winding streets, taking well over an hour to finally stop in front of the palace and allowing Mark to get out of the cramped cab before it rattled off. The sun had set some time ago, and night hung over the city heavily, the cloying air of Paris carrying the city's growing pains to his ears. Even at night, the city was not silent. Mark adjusted his outfit and marched toward the outermost gate of the vast palace, its arms spread wide and encompassing a massive courtyard. Two men wearing ornate red uniforms and holding pikes crossed their weapons at his approach, barring his entry. One of them gruffly asked him to state his business. Trusting to the plan, Mark said nothing, but merely held out one of his sealed letters, this one bearing the emblem of Richelieu. The guard examined it for several seconds, consulting with the other guard before handing it back and then opening the gate. Mark shot them both a dirty look for holding him up in his errand and then swept inside, doing his best to look haughty and full of bravado, which is what the Musketeers were apparently renowned for. He couldn't help but reflect that they seemed a lot less heroic than history let on and were more dickbags than anything else. Oh well. Faking being a dickbag was probably significantly easier than pretending to be a hero. He passed through another gate that got him closer to the palace, this one also manned by the Swiss Guard. He arrogantly presented them with the Richelieu missive, which once again satisfied their scrutiny and he was allowed to pass. He forced himself to not look around in wonder at his surroundings, instead heading straight to the great doors that would give him admittance to the palace. Alex once again presented his letter, but this time the guards squinted at him suspiciously. "Qui es tou?" demanded one of them. His throat was dry, but he answered as readily as he could, trying to sound authoritative and even haughty. "J'mappelle Benat de Ferres, of Soule, Second Company of the King's Musketeers under Monsieur de Treville. Let me through." "Fucking Basques and Gascons," muttered one of the guards in irritation. "Why would a musketeer be bringing a missive to his excellency, the Cardinal?" he demanded to know. Mark concealed his anxiety by looking pissed and rattling off one of the phrases Alexandra had given him, hoping it had the desired effect. "I have an idea, why don't we all go ask the Cardinal and you can fucking explain to him why you held up his envoy on an important errand? Does that sound good to you?" The two men looked at one another warily; the visitor was certainly obnoxious enough to be a Musketeer and a Gascon. Sighing and shaking his head in defeat, the one man handed the sealed letter back to Mark and they opened the doors, allowing him entrance. He swept by them, calling them shitheads in Spanish before the doors closed behind him. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help Gawking as he stared at the palace around him; its splendor was beyond anything he had imagined. Walls of white plaster, carved in exquisite shapes and edged in royal purple, along with gold filigree, and incredible paintings and artifacts lined the walls. Endless numbers of servants scurried by, hardly noticing him. He shut his eyes for a moment and composed himself, remembering the details Alexandra had shown him, the way through the palace. He turned and began his search for his teacher. Lisette walked primly through the halls of the palace, bowing her head deferentially to just about everyone who passed her. Wearing an elegant gown, she seemed to almost glide along the hallway, walking with a practiced ease that her mistress had taught her. She had, in three years, only been in the royal presence twice before, in attendance to Lady Alexandra. The king had barely noticed her, but Lisette didn't mind one bit, because this was far more of a life than she ever could have hoped for. She had, of course, spent much more time in the presence of the queen, because her mistress served Anne directly. Anne of Austria seemed mostly amused by Lady Alexandra's quirky servant, but she was kind to Lisette, often sending her home with gifts of chocolate. Her devotion to the queen, while not equal to her fanatic love for Lady Alexandra, meant she would die in Anne's name if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't come to that tonight, but she had made her peace with God and the Lady Mary all the same. Alexandra had set her with the task of removing or distracting every guard she could from the route Mark would take through the palace. She was not to kill anyone, nor was she to be seen in the mayhem, if at all possible. If things went wrong, she was to retreat to the queen's quarters and be seen protecting her. It was the best alibi she could hope for. A guard up ahead. He was a sullen-looking brute, not carrying the long pikes of the gate guards, but a much more practical halberd, along with a short rapier on his belt. She knew he'd be trouble. She ducked into an alcove and pulled a small phial out of her cleavage, drinking the strong red wine from it and sloshing it around in her mouth, to make sure the aroma was on her breath. Replacing the phial, she lurched back out into the hallway and sauntered toward him lazily. "Hello, beautiful," she said drunkenly, giving him a lopsided smile. "You must' be off-duty by now." "No, I am not," he grunted, not looking at her. "Go away, slut." "C'mon," Lisette persisted, leering at him as she leaned against the wall to his left. "We could be having fun. Don' you like fun?" "Duty is not meant to be fun." "But these are fun," she drawled, as she stepped in front of him and leaned forward, using her hands to pull down the front of her bodice and exposing her perky tits to the man, whose eyes went wide at the sight. "These are all the fun you'll need;” He didn't stop her as she sidled up to him, stood on her tip-toes and put her arms around his neck. Her breath was sweet with wine, her dark eyes glassy with the lack of inhibition it brought on. Her tits pressed to his chest, her hips flat to his crotch. "Take me into that room and fuck me;” she breathed huskily, her lips no more than an inch from his. "I want to feel you inside me;” The man was rather pale at her suggestion, but nodded readily and turned around to open the door. The parlor behind was empty, the perfect place for a rendezvous with this slattern. She took him by the hand and led him inside, closing the door behind them. Mark walked down the hallway, trying to not look like he was hurrying, and staying alert. He was entering a difficult part of the operation, because he was no longer in an area of the palace that led to either the king's quarters or those of Cardinal Richelieu. If anyone stopped him now, he would probably be redirected rather forcefully, and he had precious little time to waste. He walked by a door, from which he heard a moaning noise. Then he heard a familiar woman's voice, gasping and urging someone on. His translator bud wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, but he was fairly certain he knew what was happening. He subtly pushed the door open and peered inside. Mark gaped as he watched Lisette, leaning over a small table, panting while a member of the House Guard fucked her from behind, her layered skirt bunched over her ass as he pushed in and out of her. The guard remained oblivious, but she noticed the door open and flicked a glance his way. She gave him an annoyed look and jerked her head, indicating that she had this covered and he needed to keep moving. He nodded and pulled the door shut quietly before heading down the hall again. He turned a corner and then headed up some stairs, leading up to the next floor, which was apparently where Becky was being kept. He was so busy thinking about what he needed to do next that he blundered right into two guards, who grunted and then glared at him angrily. "Stupid shit!" the one man he had smacked into spat. "Watch where you are; who are you?" Mark went wide-eyed, not having expected them. His mouth seemed to work, but no sounds came forth. They blocked his ascent and continued to glare at him. "Who; are; you?" the man demanded again. Mark regained control of his voice and tried to speak. "My name is; my name is Benat;” Fuck, he'd forgotten his last name. "My name is Benat DeFlepard," he managed to say. "I am from Sully and I have' "What sort of name is DeFlepard?" snarled the one guard. "I have sealed orders," Mark interrupted, not liking where this was going. "From the Cardinal!" "Is that so?" sneered the man. "Let's see them!" Mark handed him the sealed missive scroll. The man examined it and frowned. "This is the king's seal," he growled. "What is the meaning of this?” Before the man could finish his query, Mark punched him in the face and then pulled his crème-colored tabard over his head and threw him down the stairs. The guard cursed loudly as he rolled at least two floors. Mark was too late to stop the other man from drawing his short rapier, but managed to grapple onto him, keeping himself from being run through. Mark might have been taller, but the guard was a veteran of many wars, strong and cunning. It wasn't long before he had Mark's back pressed against the wall, both men fighting for balance on the stairs. "Little shit!" he shouted, trying to press the edge of his blade against Mark's throat and slit it. They tussled, and Mark managed to wedge his arm between his neck and the rapier, feeling the sickening cold pain of the keen edge creasing his forearm. His free hand, however, snaked down to the pistol on his belt, twisting the leather until the muzzle pointed down; The stairwell echoed with a thunderous crack as Mark pulled the trigger and discharged the weapon, the iron ball punching a hole in the guard's boot and then his foot. The man groaned and staggered, releasing Mark. His ears ringing, Mark managed to shove the man down the stairs, following his comrade. He shook his head and began sprinting up the stairs, knowing the whole palace would be coming down on his head any second now. Alexandra was concealed in a secret closet in a parlor not far from the queen's quarters, listening carefully. She was wearing the red uniform of the Cardinal's personal guard, her impressive bust flattened and pulled tight with linen straps. Her golden hair was held in a ponytail while a black mask concealed her facial features. Her rapier sat on her hip and three customized pistols were concealed around her person, along with several knives balanced for throwing. She heard the discharge of a firearm, followed by shouts of alarm and fright. She hung her head and sighed. She'd been hoping it wouldn't come to this, but there seemed to be nothing for it. She would see her obligation met. Alexandra crossed herself and exited the hidden space, heading toward the Cardinal's quarters, determined to cause a distraction for Mark as he went in the opposite direction to rescue Rebecca. It was all in God's hands now. All she could hope was that Mark had remembered what his name was. Mark raced down the hallway, ignoring people who poked their heads out of various rooms and parlors to see what all the commotion was, before closing their doors and locking them in panic at the sight of him. He had his sword in one hand, his pistol in the other. Having discharged his shot already and having no idea how to readily and safely reload the damn thing, the pistol was mostly for intimidation purposes at this point. Thankfully, if he pointed it at people, they tended to make themselves scarce. A guard rushed around the corner, his halberd in hand, but Mark smashed the ornate swept hilt of his rapier into his mouth, which dissolved in a welter of blood, lips and gum before he burbled and fell over. Mark kept running. He shoulder-blocked his way past another guard, but then found himself confronted by a small group of angry servant girls, who kept swearing in French and throwing bread rolls and potatoes at him. Covering his head, he sprinted past them, resisting the urge to take a swipe at the uppity wenches. There was the room! He raced up to it and tried to open the door, but it was locked. Given the amount of noise and commotion he was causing, he shouldn't have been surprised. He stepped back and then slammed the heel of his sturdy boot into the door with all his might, knocking it out of its frame and falling to the floor. He rushed inside, looking around for his teacher, but she was nowhere in sight. That's when the heavy vase smashed into the back of his head. He was on his face on the floor, reality swimming around him. He heard someone hissing at him as he was handled roughly by his neck and his tunic. He was turned onto his back and someone was straddling him now, their supple legs on either side of his throat and their heavy skirt bunched up between their legs, allowing him to goggle up at his assaulter. "Becky! Stop! Stop, I; Ow! Jesus! Quit Hitting Me! It's Me, Mark!" The flurry of fists halted and then there was a pause thick with confusion. He felt his cheeks being gripped tightly, immobilizing his face and then his neck pulled up so that whoever was sitting on him could look at him. "Mark?" Becky exclaimed in disbelief. "Mark! Oh my God!" She began smothering him with feverish kisses, still straddling him. Still dizzy, he was in no particular shape to stop her, in spite of the fact the whole palace was on its way to kill him. His eyes finally managed to focus, and he looked up at her. "I've missed you too, Becks, but can you let me up, please?" Becky blinked and then jumped off him hastily, helping him to his feet. She still seemed stunned to see him, not that he blamed her. "How?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief and wet with emotion. "You; you were." "Dead? Yeah, kinda." "The how are you here?" she asked, trembling. He shrugged. "To quote Neil De Grasse-Tyson, science, bitches." "Oh, it doesn't matter," she exhaled, crushing herself to him and hugging tight, her body shaking with raw emotion. "You're back, Mark. You came back for me;” He smiled and hugged her back, his hand on the back of her head. "Well sure I did. You're my time-travelling partner, aren't you? Can't leave you here with these smelly savages." She laugh-choked back a sob and look up at him, her eyes leaking tears onto her scarlet cheeks. "And we're gonna get out of here and; Becks, are you, like, really drunk?" Her expression of delight warped into a scowl at his query and she pushed herself away from him. "Well what do you expect? I only spent the past month trying to kill myself with alcohol while you were taking your unscheduled nap, you jerk!" "I'm sorry," he faltered, knowing that this couldn't possibly be the right time to make her angry, on so many levels. "Let me get you out of here and then I'll explain everything." "Hang on;” she huffed, stomping over to a table and grabbing her bottle of wine, tilting her head back and taking a stiff pull from it gulping loudly. Mark made a wan face and fidgeted, acutely aware of the time they were losing. "Becks, no offense, but I'm pretty sure every guard in Paris is looking for me right now, and I' "Sounds like more of a you problem than a me problem," she grunted, attempting to drain the bottle with several loud glucks. "Nobody was trying to kill me while I was here." "No, you seem to have that covered;” he said dryly. She shot him a nasty look, but didn't stop drinking. "Look, we need to go," he insisted. "Pretty sure Alexandra's risking her neck to make sure I can' "Alexandra?" Becky interrupted, stopping drinking to look at him pointedly. "The gorgeous blonde I want to fuck?" "I; sure," Mark replied, trying to keep up. "Pretty sure she and Lisette are' "Who's Lisette?" Becky asked suspiciously, lurching toward him. She was quite a bit drunker than he'd initially thought. "It doesn't matter," he declared, determined to get moving before Richelieu arrested and shot his ass again. "We need to get' Mark winced in fear as she surged toward him, the bottle raised over her head. She flew by him and smashed the bottle down on the head of a guard who had barged into the room. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went to sleep. "Weren't you drunk moments ago?" Mark asked in disbelief. "Looks like you're the one who need rescuing." Becky shot back. "You were half a second away from having an exit wound the size of an airport runway in your chest just now." Another guard sprang around the corner. Becky, who was closest to the door, kicked him savagely between the legs. The man staggered to a stop and stiffened, but didn't fall over, the impact of her foot cushioned by the many layers of baroque skirt she was wearing, not to mention the dainty, padded slipper. As the man gaped at her, she kicked him between the legs again, but her skirt interfered, softening the blow to the place where he merely doubled over from the ache. Becky snarled angrily, lunged in, grabbed him by the neck and DDT him, almost as smoothly as ‘Jake the Snake' did to fellow pro wrestlers. This time he stayed down. "Jerk!" she muttered, glaring at the man. Without a second thought, she used a knife on the man's belt to tear layers of skirt away, leaving herself clad only in the bodice and skimpy underwear, with garters holding up the silk stockings she wore. She knelt on the unconscious man's back and pulled his boots off, replacing her slippers with the sturdier footwear. She then stripped his rapier and pistol from his person before turning to look at Mark. "You ready now?" she asked pointedly, standing there in what basically amounted to negligee and musketeer boots, while holding a rapier and a wheellock pistol. He gaped at her for a moment, unable to say anything. "You have no idea how stupidly sexy you look right now, Becks." Mark managed to say. "I'll believe it when Alexandra says it to me," she sniffed, turning and heading out the door. "Let's go, hero." Mark sighed and trotted after her, leaving the two men lying on the floor in a spreading pool of wine and broken shards of glass. Lisette made sure the guard was arranged comfortably in the plush chair, snoring, his breeches still around his ankles, his soft cock oozing cum all over his balls. She shook her head in exasperation as she rearranged her skirts; no sooner had the man cum than he yawned and began to fall asleep. She'd been nowhere close to climaxing when he'd finished. Typical male. At least the boy from the future liked to make sure she came first, even if he was a naïve school boy. She left the door open, to make sure his shame was on display and then hurried down the hallway, holding her skirt up and allowing herself to run. The palace was ringing with shouts of alarm, anger and panic. Everything seemed to be going as planned, whatever that entailed. She just trusted that Mistress knew what she was doing. Guards from various regiments were racing around now, getting one another's way and shouting orders angrily. She passed through them virtually unnoticed, merely a servant girl looking for shelter. She made a beeline right for the queen's royal apartments, and she was stopped by no one, since she was known to the guards and stuff. She nodded hastily as she passed two guards outside the ornate doors and headed inside the boudoir. Anne of Austria looked up from a book to see Lisette scurry in, closing the door behind herself and then pressing her ear to the door, ignoring everyone else in the room. She then saw the queen, blinked, curtseyed hastily, and went back to eavesdropping on the frenzy of activity outside. The monarch shook her head wearily and went back to reading her book. "You may not pass through here!" shouted the house guard, blocking Alexandra's passage forward. She had identified herself as a member of the Cardinal's guard, using her well-practiced man's voice to give credit to her guise. Thought he believed her, the man remained unmoved, barring her way. "I told you, I need to reach the Cardinal!" she insisted, knowing full well he would not let her through. "That is no concern of mine," he said coldly, glaring at her, his hand on his sword, ready to draw it. "Find another way to reach your Cardinal, because if you come another step closer, I will run you through." "So be it!" she growled as she lunged in, her own rapier flashing in her hand. The man drew his weapon and thrust at her, but she parried and then drove the point of her blade through the shoulder of his sword arm, pinning him against the wall. He groaned as his sword fell to the ground, but then her foot slammed into his face while she pulled her rapier from his shoulder. He was unconscious, but he would live. She had no cause to kill these men. She ran down the hallway, listening all the while to the commotion that echoed through the Louvre. A young guard barred her progress at a juncture in the hallways, and before he was even ready, she struck him across the head with the basket of her rapier, knocking him out. Alexandra continued along the corridor, but then saw several guards rushing into the other end of the hall, outside of an ornate door that led to the king's royal apartments. Upon seeing her, the six men pointed their muskets at her, three kneeling while the other three stood behind. A series of barks shook the area as she ducked around a corner hastily, avoiding their barrage. She could hear them shouting orders to reload. She leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. Idiots. Before they had reloaded, she had pulled a small device made of two pieces of flint out of her pocket, along with a tiny clay pot out of the other. From the hole in the top of the pot hung a thin strip of rigid paper. She held the pot by its flat bottom and snapped the flint pieces against one another, producing sparks that caught on the paper and began to burn. As the flame made its way down the paper wick, she counted slowly and calmly before leaning around the corner, tossing the pot, which skated on its flat bottom along the floor toward the guards who opposed her. She then ducked back, waiting grimly. There were shouts and the sound of boots stampeding, but then an unreal hissing shriek and a bright, flaring white light as the magnesium powder inside the container ignited. Cries of pain followed. Ten seconds later, the light died, and she rounded the corner and strode down the hallway. Four of the six guards had fled before the grenade went off, while two were writhing on the ground, clutching at their eyes from the flash blindness. She stepped between them and kicked in the door toward the king's apartments before turning around and walking away, knowing that this would create additional confusion as they sought to find the assassin in the red tabard who sought to slay the Sun King. There was more chaos to sow. Mark and Becky sprinted down the hall, ignoring the pell-mell going on around them. Inevitably, though, they were confronted by a soldier of the Cardinal, one that Mark recognized. It was the captain who had shot him. Marks teeth clenched as he rushed forward, ready to run the sonofabitch through, but Becky was faster. She threw herself into a skid, sliding along the polished floor, hurtling straight toward the man. He gaped at her in disbelief, but by then, she had slammed her foot into his crotch, doubling him over with a grunt of unreal pain. With a roar, she surged to her feet, grabbed the man around the middle from behind and yanked him over backwards, suplexing his family jewels with zest. Mark had by now skidded to a halt and watched in disbelief while his teacher stood over the supine officer and kicked him in the ribs. "Bastard!" she raged. "Teach you to kill my students!" She knelt and yanked his head up, making sure his eyes were open as she pointed at Mark, her voice dripping with vitriol. "See that? He's alive! You can't even kill something right! Your life means nothing! Nothing!" She smacked his head off the tile floor and gathered up her weapons before looking at Mark, composing herself now. "Sorry," she said with a flush of embarrassment. "You probably wanted him, didn't you? I thought you were dead, so if I ever saw him again, I'd have to avenge you." Mark shrugged. "No harm done. Except to him, and I don't really' Mark stopped talking and stared down the hallway behind Becky. Three men in flamboyant uniforms, trimmed in blue and white like himself were now approaching them. One had a grim, patrician air and about him, the second a handsome boyish charm, while the third towered over the others by a head and shoulders, a contemptuous smirk on his face. "That can't be good;” he thought. Becky didn't even blink. Without turning around, she pointed her pistol backwards over her shoulder and pulled the trigger. The bark of the shot echoed around the palace and the giant staggered backward, eyes wide in shock, before he fell over like a redwood. The other two gaped at her in astonishment as she turned around to glower at them. They hastily took hold of their downed friend and hauled him out of sight, their duty to the king forgotten. "That's right, ladies, run!" Becky called out, her chest heaving. "How's it feel to get beat up by a girl?" "You are so sexy right now, Becks." Mark chuckled, approaching her. She turned back to face him; covered with gunpowder smudges, scratches and the occasional bruise, she'd never looked more attractive to him. Heedless of their surroundings, she threw herself against him and kissed him shamelessly. His hands found her ass and squeezed as he returned the kiss and she moaned into his mouth. If there'd been a rhino horn on his crotch, he'd have been impaled on it. She broke the kiss and looked at him hungrily, her eyes shouldering with desire. "I'm so glad you're not dead, Mark," she breathed. "I can't wait to prove it to you when we get the fuck out of here." Mark took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, breaking into a run. They weren't out of danger yet. "What're you laughing about?" she asked, scowling while she allowed him to lead her through the palace. "I think that was Porthos you shot," he said almost cheerfully. "Becks, you ganked Porthos." "Oh, I did not," she hissed, trying to not feel disgust at her student's lack of historical knowledge and basic temporal mechanics. "Porthos doesn't die until 1670. So if that guy dies, it wasn't Porthos. If it was Porthos, he isn't dead. Read a book, Mark." "Ha, you said bookmark!" he laughed as he pulled her around a corner and down another hallway, trying to reach the point Alexandra had designated. "Uh!" Becky groused. "Why was I so damn happy that you lived? I swear, Mark, I; Ack!" They both whirled in panic and threw themselves back around the corner as a withering hail of musket fire peppered the plaster of the walls where they'd been standing mere seconds before. They scrambled to their feet and began running back the way they'd come, determined to not die in some baroque version of Bullet Hell from the Matrix. "Fucking shit!" Mark yelped, yanking her around another corner as more soldiers appeared and filled the hall with musket balls. "This sucks!" "Ya' think?" she hissed as they kept running, their options becoming increasingly limited. "I'm in this too, Mister Spotlight!" "Yeah, well at least you don't have the Goblin City Battle music from the Labyrinth soundtrack stuck in your head while they chase us around and try to kill us!" "I do now, you fucker! Thanks a lot!" Becky raged. A lone house guard skidded to a stop near them and prepared to fire. Mark flung his pistol at the man, striking him in the head before knocking him aside as they continued down the corridor. "What did you throw your gun away for, dumbass?" she exclaimed, wondering if blood loss after getting shot had permanently damaged Mark's brain. She hoped he could still get it up, if they made it out of here. "It had no ammo in it." Mark grunted, trying to get his bearings, thinking back to the plans of the palace Alexandra had shown him. "Why were you carrying around an empty pistol?" Becky asked in disbelief. "Intimidation purposes? Were you gonna hold it sideways when you pointed it at people, hope you looked all gangster?" "I plugged a guy on my way to find you, okay?" he sighed as they kept running. "The first shot fired that started this whole mess, it was me shooting some jackoff in the foot as I tried to find you." Becky skidded to a stop, halting Mark's flight as well. She looked into his eyes and then hugged him in relief. "Thank you, Mark," she said quietly. "You came for me, after you nearly died, and we both could today. You're very brave." When she ended the hug, Mark found she had put her own pistol in his hands. He frowned in confusion. "Why'd you give me your pistol?" he asked. "Because let's face it, I'm a lot more likely to snag another one than you are," she sighed. "Let's go, I'm done with the Sun King's France." Out of breath, they settled for trotting down a hallway, surrounded by the echoing sounds of chaos. Things had gotten so confused that the guards were all fighting one another now, thinking the enemy in their midst. Panting, the pair stopped suddenly as they came to a major intersection of hallways. Not far away, a confused brawl consisting of house guard and the Cardinal's guard blocked their passage. Upon their appearance, though, both sides paused in their fight and stared at them. Then a captain raised a call to kill them. Without even thinking, Mark pointed his pistol at the huge iron chandelier over the soldier's heads and fired. The plaster ceiling broke as the iron ball struck at and the chandelier plummeted, crashing into the dozens of men before while clouds of plaster dust filled the hall. "I can't believe that worked!" Mark laughed as they ran down another venue. "Yes, it was very impressive, Gene Kelly," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "Next, you'll be swinging from the damn chandeliers or using your knife to ride down tapestries." Soldiers surged around the corner, charging into the couple. Mark shouted in fury as they tried to skewer him while they attempted to wrestle Becky to the ground. He dodged a blade and slashed his foe across the arm before leaping back to try and give himself room. He looked around in a panic and saw Becky kicking a soldier in the nuts before punching another in the face, her eyes flashing with fury. Someone slammed into him from behind and he tumbled forward, scrambling to gain his feet. More bodies joined the fracas and he realized that they were not only trying to kill him but fighting one another as well. It was difficult to breathe. There were too many bodies smothering him. He gasped in panic and strained to find room for himself. His shaking hand gripped a sword and she shoved it forward indiscriminately, feeling something soft give before him. He focused all his effort on crawling forward, finally emerging from the churning pile of men, locked in combat. He dragged himself along the floor but then grunted in pain as something speared into his thigh from above and behind. He turned to look, his eyes watering in pain, seeing a man in red, glaring at him, raising his rapier for another strike. Then a sword point burst through the man's chest from behind. His eyes widened, and he dropped his sword and crumpled to the ground. The man who had killed him was already moving on to another target. Exhausted and dull with pain, Mark dragged himself to a wall and slumped against it, looking around for Becky, but she was nowhere to be seen. No. Not again. He ignored the maelstrom of violence and pushed himself to his feet, limping down a hallway, sword held loosely in his hand as he went to find his teacher. Alexandra strode down the hall with purpose, her senses keen for trouble. She had caused as much trouble as she could, all the while keeping the fray well away from the queen's quarters. She regretted that men would die today, due to their poor judgement, but she understood that the girl Rebecca could not remain here in Paris. A deep foreboding warned her that almost any price was worth paying to see her safely away. Sparring with D'Artagnan. She stopped as a lone figure came into view, blocking her way down the corridor. He wore the blue of the king's mousquetaires, his young face etched with determination. His hand rested on the hilt of his rapier while he observed her. "So," he began, tilting his head. "You must be the cause of all this mayhem, oui?" "I am not who you seek." Alexandra said plainly. "I do not truck with liars and I do not appreciate being lied to!" the young man snapped. "I would have your name before I run you through in the king's. Are you an agent of Buckingham?" "No." "Charles of Spain?" "I have no time for this," Alexandra said testily, putting her hand on the hilt of her blade. "Move aside and let me complete my task, musketeer!" "Then it is death you crave!" he hissed, his rapier flashing in his hand now. "I shall happily give it to you in the queen's honor!" Alexandra drew her blade as her foe rushed forward. She parried his initial thrust and then counter-thrust, which he swatted aside. A flurry of thrusts and ripostes followed, the two warriors measuring one another, vying for advantage in the narrow hallway. Steel rang and flashed. Alexandra's sword point tore a vent in one of her foe's sleeves, and she followed up with a swipe at his eyes, but he dodged away nimbly. He lunged in with the speed of a striking serpent and she caught his blade on hers before it pierced her stomach, turning it aside. They pressed blade-to-blade, moving around one another in a slow, deadly circle, their eyes locked. He danced away again as a main-gauche flashed in her hand, nearly shearing his throat open. He spun around her next attack, and when he was facing her again, a pistol had appeared in his free hand. At point blank range, he pulled the trigger. The thunderous bark of the firearm rattled her teeth as she bent backwards, the bullet passing harmlessly overhead. Alexandra somersaulted backward gracefully, coming to her feet with her rapier guarding against a follow-up attack. A lot of bemusement crossed his face. "Very pretty, good sir," he said. "But it will not save you." He darted in again and another furious exchange of swordplay followed. His blade kissed the top of her thigh, leaving a shining crimson thread on her skin. She paid him in kind with a nick across his cheek, followed by cutting the red plume from his hat. He was nearly as fast as she was, and his recklessness made him dangerously unpredictable, even to one as skilled and experienced as Alexandra. Their blades grated as they strained against one another, teeth clenched and eyes flashing in fury. With a cry of effort, she shoved with all her might and threw him back. He kept his feet and remained on guard, irritated by his foe's grit and skill. "D'Artagnan!" shouted Athos as he and Aramis dragged the unconscious Porthos across the hallway behind the combatants, disappearing from sight. This distracted the Musketeer, who turned to look behind himself in confusion and then disbelief. He glanced back at his foe and then sighed, sheathing his blade. "Until next time, enemy mine;” he said, before darting around the corner to catch up with his comrades. Alexandra waited some seconds after he was gone and then sagged against the wall, sighing heavily. She rubbed her face for a moment before returning her rapier to its sheathe and continuing on. She had to find Mark and Rebecca. The door to the room swung open and Mark staggered inside, panting in pain. His entire leg felt like it was on fire, and it was maddeningly sticky. He had lost his sword while searching for Becky, but it mattered little if he couldn't find her. He tumbled into a sitting position, propping himself up on his hands and trying to breathe. Everything hurt now, and it was getting to the place where he couldn't move. His head throbbed and he was getting dizzy. With extreme effort, he managed to tear one of his sleeves off, and tied it around his leg, hoping it would act as a tourniquet and perhaps staunch the bleeding. It stung like fucking Hell and to his distress did nothing ease his pain. He sat there panting, when a solemn figure in red moved slowly by the door. There was a pause and then the person came back into view, peering at Mark quizzically. Clad in red robes and a little red skull cap, his tight, lemony features creased in recognition and then disbelief. "I know you," the Cardinal murmured, his eyes never leaving Mark. "Yes, you are the boy from the field, the one who claimed to be a Spanish noble and had the pretty girl with him." He stepped closer, still scrutinizing Mark, who tried to move backwards, his body screaming in protest. "But you died," the elderly man stated. "My captain shot you. You died in that field. What witchcraft is this?" Annoyance flashed in the Cardinal's eyes now. "So, you are the cause of all this tumult. The girl I was to give to the queen, she is missing and now I know why." He pulled a pistol from within the voluminous folds of his red robes and cocked it before pointing the muzzle down at Mark's face. "I think it is time I dealt with this problem myself, once and for all." Too hurt and exhausted to fight back, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; "I Kick You In The Nuts, Richelieu!" shrilled a voice from the doorway behind the Cardinal, the shout followed by a sickening thump as a musketeer's boot appeared beneath Richelieu's groin. The man stiffened for a moment in confusion, but then his eyes crossed, and he bit his lower lip as his skin turned a sickly shade of green. While Richelieu slumped forward and then fell on his side, trembling and holding the family jewels, Mark goggled up at Becky, who stood indignantly in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring down at His Eminence. "Asshole;” she muttered as she stepped over the Cardinal and came over to Mark, who was shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Her eyes welled with emotion as she knelt next to him. "Oh, Mark," she said in a gentle voice. "Look at you, you got stabbed, baby. I'm so sorry;” "I'll be alright," he managed to say as she hugged him to her. "At least you still look amazing, no matter how badly your ass has been kicked." Becky's laugh choked back her sob and she smiled at him, tears in her eyes. "Smart-ass," she murmured. "C'mon, let me bind your boo-boo properly and then we'll get out of here, before everyone in Paris is dead." She fixed his makeshift tourniquet and then helped him stand. Once he was upright, he took a deep breath and smiled at her. "I think I can walk, I was just in need of a breather, ya' know?" She giggled. "How the Hell are we gonna explain a rapier wound through your thigh when you get home?" "With any luck, Chester will have a little something' to fix me right up." Mark replied. "Let's go. If we are where I think we are, then our ride isn't that far away." They walked cautiously down several smaller hallways, avoiding any and all encounters. They chaos seemed to have abated, at least for now. Alexandra had predicted that if fighting broke out, there was be lots of confused violence, followed by the various guard companies withdrawing to their assigned wings of the palace, to directly protect their charges, such as the king, queen and cardinal. "Bet the Cardinal's guards are gonna be upset," Mark chuckled. "He's nowhere near his quarters, and they let him get kicked in the freaking balls." Becky giggled as she walked alongside him, her arm through his. "You have no idea how good that felt, Mark. A girl could get used to that. Maybe we should visit Berlin, see if I can kick Hitler in the nuts." "One grand adventure at a time, teach;” he said wearily, causing her to laugh. But her mirth was brought up short when a solitary figure appeared in front of them, wearing red and clad in a black mask, a rapier and several pistols on their belt. Becky scowled, getting ready to step in front of her student, when Mark seemed to sigh in relief. "I am glad to see you are both well," said the person, walking forward, pulling their golden hair out of its ponytail and removing the mask. Becky's heart leapt as she came face-to-face with Lady Alexandra once more. "Thank the Lord." She stepped in and embraced them both, all three of them trembling at being reunited. Alexandra finally smiled at her friends and nodded. "We must still get you out of here, before the guards return to some sense of normalcy. Mark, do you still have the place name I gave to you?" Mark smiled wearily. "I; it's in the little pocket in my pants here, but it's probably pretty red and unreadable by now." "It's a good thing, then, that I wrote a copy, non?" Alexandra lilted, pulling a small piece of vellum out from beneath the sash she wore and handing it to Becky. "Go to this place," the noblewoman instructed. "By carriage, it should not take more than three days. It is a sanctum I use on occasion and it will be safe. Lisette and I will find you there a day or two after you arrive." She then handed two small, round jars into Becky's palm as well. "Use these to salve your wounds, until I arrive. I promise you, they will work." "How can we thank you?" Becky asked, staring at Alexandra, enchanted. The French woman smiled and then pulled Becky to her, kissing her deeply and passionately. Becky shuddered and moaned, her arms wrapping around Alexandra and returning the kiss passionately. Mark smiled as he watched the blondes make out for almost a minute before Alexandra reluctantly pulled away. "We need to stop, or we will be fucking right here in the halls of the palace," she breathed, wiping at the corner of her mouth with a finger. "We will see one another soon, and celebrate then." She turned to Mark and smiled before leaning in and kissing him gently. "You are a brave man, my friend. Never doubt it, no matter what travails Heaven provides." She walked them through several secret passages now, until they emerged into a small courtyard, under the cover of night. Standing nearby, a non-descript carriage awaited them. Alexandra wrapped Becky in a cloak and then spoke to the driver while the clambered inside. His instructions were clear, and he would not deviate from them. Becky and Mark looked out a small window, smiling and waving at Alexandra, who held up her hand to bid them farewell. The carriage exited the Louvre via a small gate where the guards asked no questions, and then they were on their way through Paris. Mark sank back into the surprisingly plush seat and sighed heavily. "Try not to get kidnapped again, Becks," he said lazily. "I'm not sure how much more of this my body can take." "But being rescued by you is one of my favorite reasons to use tawdry sex as a thank you," she protested, turning to smile at him and tracing a fingernail up and down his chest. "You wouldn't deprive me of that joy, would you, hero?" "Perish the thought, teach;” he chuckled tiredly. A time to recuperate. Mark had Lisette pinned beneath him and rocked back and forth on top of her, his cock plunging in and out of her molten cunt, while she groaned in pleasure. It felt so good to have this boy's tool inside her again. Her legs were wrapped around his strong waist and her hips moved in time with his, taking him in as deep as she could. Lisette rarely kissed anyone who wasn't her mistress, but in this case, she was making a willing exception. Their tongues tangled wetly as they fucked, exploring one another. The tingling heat was overtaking her, and she knew it would not be long now. She crossed her ankles behind him and she bit at the skin of his chest, shuddering in delight. Mark arched his back, pushing as deep inside her as he could, before shaking and allowing himself release. Her wanton cunt gripped his cock while he came deep inside her, his whole being awash with unreal pleasure. They moaned through a frenzied kiss and then sagged together, spent and sated, at least for now. Moans, pants and sighs of bliss attracted Mark and Lisette's attention and they looked off their side; also on the huge bed with them, Becky and Alexandra were sitting together, with their arms and legs wrapped around one another, kissing hungrily as they squirmed their slick pussies together. Their matching golden hair was damp with the sweat of their exertions, skin slick and shining. The greedy smacking and sucking sounds their slits made as they mingled made the four lovers shiver in delight. Alexandra and Becky were groping and fondling one another with unreal need, their nails leaving red marks and their fingers gripping tight enough to leave welts. Neither relented, though, desperate to cum together. The moans became groans and they were panting as they gyrated their hips, churning rhythmically in a sensual dance of bliss. They pulled tighter against one another, clenching their teeth and craning their necks as they peaked, then crying out and pressing their molten, gooey pussies as they came. More feverish kissing punctuated the climax and the finally both collapsed backward, chests heaving, their legs still scissored together. Steam seemed to be rising from their bodies, skin flushed pink. The four lovers lay silent for some minutes, just basking in their shared bliss. Mark finally pulled himself out of Lisette and then knelt over her face, allowing the dark-haired girl to slide his cock into her mouth, cleaning their mingled cum from his cock, which she did with great delight. Becky and Alexandra finally clasped wrists and pulled themselves up into a sitting position, hugging tiredly, but not willing to relinquish their most intimate contact. They kissed deeply and contentedly, fondling one another's tits. Lisette looked over at them and giggled. Alexandra looked over at her servant, her eyebrow raised. "What is so funny, girl?" Lisette turned on her side and rested her head on her hand while Mark spooned in behind her. "I was just thinking, Mistress; you and Miss Rebecca look so much alike. What if you are her ancestor?" Becky and Alexandra both thought about that, looked at one another for a moment, shrugged and began kissing again, their tongues tangling loudly. "And if that was the case, think about what we discussed the other day," she continued, smirking mischievously. "You said you had wondered what it would be like to Monsieur Mark's child, yes? Wouldn't that also make him Miss Rebecca's ancestor?" Mark burst out laughing while Becky choked on her shock, interrupting the kiss she had been so enjoying. She looked at Lisette in disbelief. Alexandra just sighed and shook her head, used to her servant's twisted humor. The moment of metaphysical terror passed for Becky and they all cuddled together in the center of the bed, kissing tenderly and caressing. Alexandra had told Becky all about Mark's efforts to find her and reach her, what he had undergone and risked. Becky's eyes shone as she looked at Mark at promised to make sure he was properly thanked until the end of time. "I wish you could stay," Alexandra almost moped, regretting that she had to give her new friends up. "I enjoy your company, and I am not ashamed to say I love you both." "Feeling's mutual, Alexa," Becky lilted, tracing a fingernail across her generous tit. "But maybe we needn't end our association. If we designate a consistent place, when you know you are available, you can leave a message there. Mark and I will check for messages, and when we see one, we can visit you at the appointed time. No conflicts or dangers presented, as long as we're all certain of the clear lines of communication." "I like that idea," Alexandra said, grinning. "And I have a gift for you both." She climbed off the bed and went to retrieve something. She returned shortly with two bottles, which she presented to them. "A new type of wine, invented in my native region of Champagne," she said, kneeling on the bed as they examined the bottles. "Twice fermented and sweet on the tongue, not unlike my darling Rebecca." Becky blushed and Mark grinned. "You'll be glad to know that in our time, champagne is one of the most expensive and sought-after drinks in the world, used in every important celebration." "That does please me, Mark." Alexandra said, nodding her head and deciding to not chide him this time about telling her the future. "And now that I think of it, literally, I've got a present for you, Alexa." Mark mused, getting off the bed. The three women watched as he walked into a large closet, rummaging around loudly. When he returned, he was holding what appeared to be several unusual books, which he handed to Alexandra. "What are these?" she asked, puzzled. "Well, the graphic novel is a pictorial history of Wonder Woman, who you may recall I told you a little bit about," he explained, sitting on the bed again. "And the other three books are all written by a man named Alexander Dumas and are fictional works about the Three Musketeers. I figured they'd be humorous reading for you." She looked up at him incredulously. "But; why were they in my closet here in my chalet?" He grinned again. "Well, just a moment ago, I decided to give them to you. So in a few days, I'm gonna gather them up, bring them here to just before Becky and I arrive, and bury 'em in your closet, where I know they are. That way, I don't run into any of us. And clearly it worked." Becky made a wry face. "Ya' know, I'd say you're getting the hang of this whole temporal travel thing, but I'm pretty sure you're only getting the hang of abusing it." Mark smirked at her and pinched her nipple, making her shiver and bite her lip. He then looked back at Alexandra. "And when you're done with 'em, you can just leave 'em in our drop-off spot and Becks and I'll pick them up. That way, there's no anachronistic copies of nineteenth-century novels or twentieth-century comic books lying around to be discovered by archaeologists." "I take back what I said just now, you're gonna get us all clock-hammered right out of existence." Becky sighed, causing her lovers to laugh. Mark and Becky lay side-by-side in her bed and holdings hands, back in their own time and generally none the worse for wear. They'd learned some valuable lessons and had made some important contacts along the way. "Do' you really think Alexandra's my ancestor?" Becky mused, looking at her bedroom ceiling. Mark shrugged. "You sure look a lot alike, and you're both Hell on wheels. I'm still amused by the notion of me being your great-great-great-whatever grandfather." She sighed and shook her head. "I can handle the notion of fucking and falling in love with my great-whatever grandmother, but the notion of you as my whatever grandfather gives me the jibblies. Just promise me you won't impregnate Alexa and make that come true, Mark." He chuckled. "I promise. I have no idea how trans-temporal alimony or visitation rights even work." Becky giggled and turned in to face him, cuddling close. "So, who're you gonna save me from next, hero?" she purred, nipping at his earlobe and making him shiver. "Oh, God, Becks, can we start out with some really ferocious kindergartners from the Roaring Twenties taking you hostage? I can probably handle that right about now." She giggled again and crawled on top of him, staring down into his eyes and kissing his nose while she squirmed her tits against him. "Take me to New York in the Twenties and I'll show you how liberated a flapper girl I can be," she whispered. "Deal?" "Deal." Mark replied, pulling her down and kissing her soulfully. Count Mark and Becky in! I Think I'm Getting The Hang Of This! Finally home. Mark sat at his dining room table, eating dutifully. His mom had prepared short ribs and mashed potatoes for dinner, one of his favorites. What she didn't know was that Mark had substituted several herbs and spices into her collection, items he'd brought back from his temporal travels. At the very least, this meant they were technically several hundred years old, or sometimes that they didn't exist in the modern era at all. "I'm enjoying this particular batch of thyme that I put in the braise," Dhallyla Pritchard remarked as she gently stabbed some green beans with her fork. "Mark, where did you say you got it for me? The flavor is so; special." Mark shrugged. "Another shop I thought I'd try out," he replied. "Nowhere near our usual places." "Well, keep it up, son," his father said, sitting at the other end of the table. "No offence to your mother's cooking, but the spices we were getting before weren't helping the cause. Now this is flavor." "Such a good little minion," his mom said sweetly, reaching over and pinching his cheek. "First, you did amazingly well on your Physics exam and boosted your overall grade to the place where the university accepted you, and now you're an herbs and spices guru. Talk about an unexpected change." "Yeah," his sister Roxy said, sitting across from him, and trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "Unexpected is right." "Now Roxy, be nice," their mom chided. "You should be happy for your little brother, he'll be going to university with you." "As long as she pulls her grades up," grunted dad, pausing in eating to waggle his fork in her general direction. "You promised us you'd keep your grades up and we'd let you live here rent-free as a result, Rox. We're living up to our end of the bargain, what's so difficult about yours?" "Maybe I should study more and party less," she grumbled, scowling at her food. She hated to admit it, but her mom was right, the spices were great. Where had the little trouser-snake bought them? "Ya' know, open my mind more and my legs less?" "Dear!" Dhallyla gasped, looking at her daughter in shock. "Nobody said you were behaving licentiously! There's no need to use language like that!" "Sorry," the dark-haired girl sighed, putting down her fork. "Just been on edge lately. Seems to have been The Mark Show around here recently,

Percival Everett has made a career out of exploring the nature of absurdity. You may have become aware of Everett in the last few years when his novel “Erasure” was adapted into the movie “American Fiction” in 2023, or when his book “James” won the Pulitzer prize last year. But Everett has written 24 novels since 1983 along with several books of poetry and short story collections, each of them tackling a different genre of writing and a different angle on nonsense, absurdity or irony. As he says, “to accept the absurdity of a situation is to accept the humanness of it.” We talk to Percival Everett in front of an audience of students at McDaniel High School in Portland.

Bridget, Caitlin, and Hilda continue their spooky season coverage and discuss "Bride" by Ali Hazelwood. Okay, so it's not really scary, but it has vampyres, werewolves, and the forced marriage trope will get your pulse racing. Plus, did someone say knotting?  Join our Patreon for exclusive behind-the-scenes content and let's be friends!Instagram > @Booktokmademe_podTikTok > @BooktokMadeMe

The Time Riders: Part 4 A daring attempt to rescue Becky from Cardinal Richelieu. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. “Your Becky sounds like a very strong woman." Lady Alexandra reflected when Mark told of their conflicts in the time journey to old France. "Actually," Mark said, blushing again. "She reminds me of you, or you remind me of her. You actually look quite a bit alike." She smiled sweetly and reached forward to touch his knee. "High praise for me indeed, then. Am I right in assuming that she speaks French since you do not?" Mark nodded. "Then she should be safe inside the Louvre, which is where my mistress the queen is currently staying," Alexandra concluded. "So his Eminence is playing another little game, to make my mistress feel bad by bringing beautiful women into her service? We shall see to this, Mark, I promise you." "Thanks," he said. "I really, really appreciate this. You have no idea." "She must be very special to you." Alexandra said slyly. "Well, we're not in love, or anything," he said hastily, wishing he didn't have to keep explaining this. "But yeah, I guess you could say we're fond of one another, and she's the only person I time travel with." "Were I you," Alexandra said, sitting back now and taking another sip of one while crossing one leg over the other. "I would try to keep it that way. It has been explained to me, and it seems perfectly logical, that things just get more complicated when you involve other people or try to do too many things?" "You don't look at all like you're from this time," Mark admitted. "Are you actually from the Sun King's France?" She nodded. "That I am, to a noble family of ancient lineage, going even back to the reign of Charlemagne. But in service to my queen, I take very good care of myself and am in the peak of health." "No kidding," Mark breathed, earning a smirk from Alexandra. "Chester said you're good with a sword?" She shrugged in a non-committal manner. "Suffice to say that I am not afraid to take on Les Troi Inseparables." Mark assumed that she meant Athos, Porthos and Aramis. "D'Artagnan too?" She laughed, a beautiful, crystalline sound. "Aye, even the irascible Gascon. Nor do I cringe before the Duke of Buckingham, who is said to be the greatest swordsman in Christendom, barring possibly my brother." "No recognition for you?" She shook her head. "I dare not, my service to the queen would be compromised. I am not driven by fame, Mark, but devotion and duty. Secrecy is all that allows me to continue in my task." "You're like Wonder Woman." Mark laughed. She looked at him and tilted her head. "Comment?" "A fictional heroine from my own time," he said, waving it off. "She's powerful, she's brilliant, she can fight, she can fly, she's compassionate. They've been writing and drawing stories about her for about seventy years now." "It sounds fun," she sighed. "But I do not wish to be ensnared in these time troubles, and I do everything I can to avoid them. The less I know, the better. Protecting my queen is enough." He nodded. "I promise to try and not add to your troubles in this, and I'm sorry." "You needn't be," she said easily, draining her glass. "The debt I owe Chester for this is many years old, I am surprised that he has not called it in before now, to be honest. How long has Becky been at the Louvre?" Mark thought about that. "Uh; a week to get to the palace from where we were; then three weeks; and then it took me a week to get here, so best guess is four weeks." Alexandra nodded and considered. "The initial intense scrutiny she would have been under will be relaxing after a month. They are no doubt still training her, but she sounds very bright, so they will be eager to move her into the court." Mark nodded. "Alright, what do we do? Run in with pistols blazing and swords unsheathed?" She paused in her ruminations and looked at him for a moment before shaking her head slowly, saying nothing. She poured herself another glass of wine and nocked it back before sighing and returning to her thoughts. "Uh, may I ask a question?" Mark said somewhat meekly. Alexandra looked at him and waited. "If; you're one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting," Mark said somewhat awkwardly. "Shouldn't you have at least seen or have heard of Becky by now? I gotta admit, she's like you, she's really hard to miss." The French woman smiled prettily. "I have been away some two months now on a delicate errand for my queen, one that took me south to Spain." "Pretending I was from Spain got me shot." Mark grumbled. Alexandra raised her eyebrows. "Ah, tu hablas español?" "Nope," Mark said, holding up his hands. "Not goin' through this again. So, what do we do, Miss; uh, Miss;” "Just call me Alexandra, cher," she said easily. "And if we become friends, you may call me Alexa." He nodded. "Okay, Alexandra. What is our plan?" "I shall think on that," she replied. "We will not be doing anything until at least tomorrow, I assure you. I only returned this morning and even the queen does not know I am back yet. That being said, you will be my guest here in my private apartments." "Uh, okay," he said. "That doesn't sound too bad, I guess." "It is convenient, for one thing, but another is perhaps a bit more personal and selfish on my part," Alexandra added. "Be honest with me, Mark." "Okay." "Would your Becky be hurt or jealous if you and I were to fuck?" she asked plainly. Mark thought about that for a moment and then shook his head. "She'd probably think there was something wrong with me if I didn't; to be honest. Besides, if she thinks I'm dead, what's the harm?" "Bien," the woman stated, nodding and standing. "Tonight, you and I shall, oh, what is that English saying; ride below the crupper." "Never heard that, but I'm in," he said, chuckling. "And do not worry, unlike most people of this day and age, I bathe daily, so you should not find my closeness offensive." Alexandra added. "I'm pretty sure you could smell like a federal stimulus pork bill and I wouldn't notice," he laughed. "Don't you have quarters at the Louvre?" She nodded. "Oui, but my mistress allows me to stay here when possible, since I am closer to the people of Paris this way. I can look out my window, see them and remind myself of my duty to them." "You're pretty complicated for a noblewoman." Mark admitted. "History doesn't think much of your class of people." "A deserved indictment, no doubt," she sighed. "Alors, I did not keep you here to bore you with such ephemera, I intend to pleasure you before making you risk your life again in the days ahead." The French Art of Feminine Disrobing. He watched from his chair as she slowly turned around and began the French art of feminine disrobing. She began by removing the rather poufy blouse she was wearing, revealing her shapely back. She was beautiful, but now he could see the lines of athleticism in her shoulders and torso, and still somehow with the affectation of being delicate and womanly. Alexandra then lifted one leg and removed her short boot deftly, then reversed her pose as she removed the other boot. Her feet were surprisingly dainty, but they seemed to be planted firmly on the floor. Undoing the tie of her breeches, she wiggled them down over her lovely hips, exposing her incredible behind. She bent over to push the article of clothing down the rest of her statuesque legs and in spite of the dim light, he could almost see her cunt just below those temping cheeks. She stood up straight and stepped elegantly out of the pool of her breeches, putting her hands over her bust as she turned her head to smile at him coyly. As he watched, she slowly came around so she was facing him now. If Mark's jaw could have literally fallen off, it would have. In the flickering candlelight, she was bewitching to behold. Her skin was creamy and flawless, fair and yearning to be kissed. Her womanly hips carried strength, melting into her glorious legs. Her snatch was hairless, something he didn't associate at all with the period; especially the French. "So, do you like what you see?" she purred, enjoying his reaction. He nodded dumbly and she allowed her hands to fall away from her tits, revealing them. Large and perfectly shaped, sitting high no doubt because of her strong back and shoulders, and crowned with small, pink nipples that made his mouth water. "Now perhaps it is time for you to show me the man I will enjoy?" Alexandra said softly, smiling. "Stand up and let me see you, Mark." He couldn't do a thing about his hard-on, so he didn't even bother trying to conceal it. Still sitting, he removed his boots and socks before standing. Without any of the grace displayed by his anticipated new lover, Mark fumbled off his shirt, revealing his chest. He wasn't overly muscular, of course, but he had more than enough tone and definition because of the sports he'd played. She smiled and just watched quietly. He undid the tie of his breeches and bent over to pull them off. When he stood back up, his cock sprang to full attention, wobbling in front of him slightly. Alexandra nodded, apparently in approval. "Men of days to come seem to be gifted." Alexandra stated in a sultry voice as she stepped forward, moving toward him. “Or, perhaps today, for you; my dear Alexandra?” Mark flirted in a manner even he found uncharacteristically competent. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest as the blonde goddess stepped closer and closer to him. She was then standing directly in front of him, her glorious pelvic mound almost touching the tip of his pulsing erection. He thought he might cum right on the spot. Her elegant hand slowly reached out to take hold of his turgid shaft, the fingers wrapping around gently and giving him the lightest of squeezes. "And now," she said in a whisper. "We shall' The lock on the door clunked before it flew open and in stepped a young woman with wavy dark hair and eyes, apparently not noticing the activity within. "I am back, mistress," the girl chirped as she shut the door and locked it again. She seemed cheerful and energetic, her green dress twirling about her prettily. "I bought some wine and also the soap packets that you; oh! My apologies, mistress, I did not know you were busy!" "Do not worry, Lisette," Alexandra said easily, clearly not at all surprised to see the girl while Mark just gaped. Her hand was still on his cock and stroking gently as she acknowledged the newcomer. "You're just in time to share dessert with me;” Cirrhosis Of The Louvre Mark blinked as he stared at the young woman who had just sauntered in. About his age, she was rather short, but cute in a quirky kind of way, with wavy dark hair that reached her jawline and cheerful brown eyes, over which she wore small round spectacles. Her green dress looked like elegant and well-maintained peasant wear. She seemed rather surprised to see him as well. "A new playmate, mistress?" she asked in French, clearly not surprised to see Lady Alexandra naked on her knees and stroking Mark's cock. "For now," Alexandra said easily, smiling at her servant. "He actually is an associate of Monsieur Edgeworth and needs our help." "Oh, not that pain-in-the-ass again," muttered the girl named Lisette as she walked into the dimly-lit room, clearly put off by the mention of Chester Edgeworth. Her accent was distinctly different from Lady Alexandra's, more coarse and unsophisticated, even to Mark's untrained ears. His translator device was having trouble keeping up. "Like our lives are not difficult enough." "Perhaps, but we have time for some fun, I am happy to say." Alexandra pointed out, not at all bothered by her servant's mutterings. "You will be delighted to know that in helping this young man, we will be putting the spurs to the Red Duke." "Well, there's that at least," Lisette admitted, dropping the linen bags she had been carrying and coming toward them, beginning to shed her dress and underthings without batting an eye. "This one is tall, Mistress. And he has a blank expression about him. English? A colonial?" "Close enough, my love," Alexandra giggled, watching as her beloved servant removed the last vestiges of her modesty, standing naked before them now, except for her spectacles. Her tits were small, her figure trim, but rounded in a youthful way; and devoid of fat excess fat, but not skinny. Living and fighting alongside her Mistress meant Lisette had no time for being indolent. She was probably also the best marksman outside of the Sun King's army with a caliver. "He is indeed from the colonies." "And probably from some other time, if he's involved with Edgeworth, but I have learned not to care," the brunette sighed as she joined Alexandra in kneeling in front of Mark. "Very well, let's fuck this one, before he gets killed, or unavailable like the others." "Wait, what?" Mark asked, his eyes widening and his erection threatening to retreat into his abdomen and his translator bud did its job. "Ignore her," Alexandra said easily, smirking at her companion. "She is just being salty about a boy she liked to fuck down at the market, no longer being available." "He die of dysentery or something?" Mark asked. Alexandra shrugged. "No, he got married." "I'm still going to fuck him the next time I see him;” Lisette said sullenly. "Oh, sorry," Mark said, somewhat embarrassed. "I guess I'm in the habit of assuming that you're the only person in this time I'm ever gonna meet who isn't riddled with a pox or sexual disease." "A fair assumption, my friend;” the blonde woman cooed as she began kissing along the length of his veiny, rippled shaft and making him shiver. The fireplace kept the room warm and also gave it an amber glow that was so comforting and conducive to their current activities. Lisette nestled in closer, smiling and fondling his sac gently while watching her mistress pleasure their new plaything. "He is large, Mistress," she mused, smiling slyly. "Nearly the size of Buckingham, I think." "Umm, the men of days to come do indeed seem to be gifted," Alexandra murmured as she tilted his hard cock up and traced the tip of her tongue along the vein on the underside. "Mark here is no exception, it would seem." Lisette's surprisingly well-kept fingernails grazed along his thighs while she edged inward, wanting to be closer to her mistress. Alexandra now swirled her tongue around his throbbing head before putting it inside her warm, wet mouth. She opened her eyes and looked up at him before slowly sliding in his length in one slow, steady motion. Mark shuddered in pleasure, feeling her tongue swirling around his length, even as she kept her mouth on him. His fingers found their way into her lush, golden hair, kneading at her scalp, and steadying himself while she began to bob back and forth expertly. In the back of his mind, he realized that she was as good as any girl from his own time at sucking cock. He shouldn't have been surprised, but sex seemed to be the one human endeavor that didn't really progress as time moved forward. People were either good at it, or weren't, and the best techniques had probably been around for thousands of years, needing no refinement. Alexandra was living proof of that theory. Lisette moved in and began kissing her mistress' neck and collarbone, her hands now wondering and caressing the noblewoman's body with a practiced ease. Alexandra continued to suck on Mark's cock readily, not at all distracted by her servant's touch, but rather excited by it. She squirmed as her cunt grew moist, yearning to feel this man's tool inside her. Alexandra's strong lips held his glans and her tongue rolled around his purple tip. Lisette's mouth now joined Alexandra's in sliding up and down the sided of his length before they kissed around his cock tip, tongues flickering and sliding wetly as they moaned. His hands were on the back of their heads and he shivered again, lost in the unreal sensations. He felt the brunette girl take over sucking on him, while her blonde mistress nipped at the skin of his waist. "Umm, he has a big tool, mistress," purred Lisette before bobbing along his shaft again. "A pity he will not be available to us regularly." "I think my friend is pleased with you, Mark," Alexandra said, smiling up at him slyly. "Do you wish to fuck us both?" "That; sounds great;” he grunted, closing his eyes and concentrating on not cumming so damn quickly. These two were a wicked tag team. "But what if one of you;” "Fear not, cher, we will not," Alexandra assured him. "I am classically trained, including in Roman medicines and can prevent unexpected complications from arising. Or our bellies." Mark didn't know exactly what 'Roman medicines' had to do with contraception, but she was the expert in this time, so he'd take her word for it. From what he'd read, the alternative in this era was a condom made of linen, which wasn't even meant to prevent pregnancy so much as inhibit pleasure. Hell with that. "Are you any good with that tongue, man of the New World?" she asked now, smiling at him wickedly. "Becky seemed to think so." Mark replied, trembling as he fought to hold on. He would welcome a chance to lick cunt if it would keep him from embarrassing himself before he had properly fucked either of them. "Then Lisette will continue to see you your needs down below, while I become acquainted with your face." Alexandra breathed. Mark sighed as Lisette stopped sucking on his cock long enough to retrieve several large, plush pillows and lay them on the floor near the fireplace. He was almost in a daze as the blonde noblewoman led him to the scarlet and gold oreillers, plump with down and feathers, and then rested him on top of them. Without more ado, she nestled over his face, looking down his body, allowing him to examine her while Lisette knelt between his legs and resumed wrapping her lips around his cock loudly. He marveled at her shining, slippery cunt, so tempting in the flickering orange light of the hearth. He had now fucked a few French girls in this time period, along with Becky, and they were all completely natural, often unusually hairy between their legs. This glorious woman, however, kept her twat completely smooth, a total aberration from the norm. Lisette was almost shaven clean, which he could only assume was at her mistress' behest. He could see Alexandra's tiny, pink clit just peeking out from under its hood, begging for attention. The wet, exquisite heat of Lisette's mouth made his belly groan. He pulled the blonde down onto his waiting mouth, needing to distract himself. His tongue snaked between her wet nether lips and inside her. Alexandra sighed shamelessly and squirmed on his mouth while fondling her opulent tits. His fingers gripped her thighs tightly, flexing into her delicate flesh. She was not kidding about taking care of herself compared to her contemporaries. Her scent and her taste reminded him of Becky more than anything. He pushed his tongue deeper inside her, massaging her walls and core and making her gasp and shudder in delight. She pulled at her nipples as she rocked back on forth on Mark's mouth, enthralled by how skilled he was proving to be at pleasuring her orally. He was quite possibly as good as Lisette, which was no small feat in her opinion. Her calves pressed in around his ears, her pert derriere bumping against his face. Mark's tongue flickered inside her and he buzzed his lips on her, sending jolts through her whole body. "Mistress, he is ready for you," Lisette said, pulling her mouth off his cock and looking up at her lady while pumping her tiny hand along his shaft. "Would you like to fuck him now?" "Non, ma couer," breathed Alexandra, her body now showing a sheen of sweat. "You may fuck him first. I assure you he will bring you bliss. I am fine where I am for now." Lisette nodded and moved to straddle Mark's hips, facing her mistress. She took hold of his cock, biting her lip as she toyed it against her cuntlips and clit. Finally, she pushed down, taking the head inside herself. She sighed while Mark shuddered as he penetrated hervery tight cunt. She then groaned loudly as she sank down, taking him all the way inside herself. She was very tight and Mark made an incoherent sound into Alexandra's twat, making her gasp and shudder violently, cumming suddenly. She leaned forward and grappled onto Lisette, kissing her greedily as she came. Mark could feel her wetness soaking his face, the heady aroma enthralling him. Enveloped in a type of pleasure he had probably never experienced before, even with Becky, he simply fought to control himself, lashing Alexandra's inside with his tongue while Lisette squirmed up and down on his cock, fucking him. Her cunt flexed and clenched expertly around him. He made a guess about the blonde noblewoman above him and took hold of her ass cheeks, pulling them apart before sliding a thumb through her puckered knot. Alexandra wailed in unexpected delight at the intrusion inside her back passage, pressing down and back against his hands and face. She rocked wantonly, genuinely thankful for the meddlesome Chester Edgeworth on this occasion. Mark showed no signs of relenting in his carnal assault. Whatever courtesies men of days to come were taught about a woman's pleasure, she envied the recipients. "Uh, mistress," whimpered Lisette as she squirmed, leaning backward while pumping her cunt on his cock. Alexandra could see the burgeoning shaft splitting her servant-girl's puffy cuntlips wide, glistening now with her wet desire as she squeezed around him. "Mistress, he's going to make me cum!" "Then cum, my dearest," Alexandra cooed, eager to see her beloved Lisette in the throes of unbridled passion. "And then I shall fuck him and we can cum; all of us, non?" The mere mention of cumming with her mistress made Lisette moan loudly, gyrating on Mark's cock with wild abandon. She was fairly bouncing as the liquid heat washed through her, followed by the unreal tingles of la petit mort. She leaned forward and kissed her mistress passionately, her cunt clamping around Mark like a silken vise as she came. "And now you, mistress!" she panted as she regained control of her body, sliding off Mark's throbbing tool to make room for the blonde woman. Somewhat reluctantly, Alexandra pulled her gooey cunt away from Mark's mouth, shivering as his finger popped out of her ass. She leaned down his body sensually, leaning over to take his cock in her mouth, moaning in pleasure as she tasted Lisette's cum on his rigid staff. Her head rose back up and her mouth left his coc,k and she smiled back at him while she stroked his length. "Perhaps you could take me from behind, my friend? It has been some time since I have felt it done properly." Mark nodded and clambered up to his feet, moving around while Alexandra arranged Lisette, lying the brown-haired girl on her back. She then sank down onto her, their arms wrapping around one another and they kissed deeply and passionately, the mere sight of it driving Mark wild. They were so total in their devotion that he wondered if they were in love. Lisette then moved around deftly, so that her mouth was beneath her mistress' dripping cunt, while the blonde woman hovered over her servant, on her hands and knees. Mark stood behind Alexandra and settled onto his knees. Lisette confidently reached up and took hold of Mark's pulsing cock, guiding him closer, until he was holding Alexandra by the hips. She placed the knob of his cock against her mistress' cunt lips, teasing it up and down for a few moments. Alexandra's response was to sigh and kiss her servant's cunt lovingly, making her shiver. Mark pursed his lips as Lisette finally guided him inside the aristocrat's snatch, with a slow, steady push. Already wet and ready, Alexandra's cunt yielded before him easily, but he soon groaned as he realized that further in she was as tight, if not tighter, than her servant, who was considerably smaller in frame. Alexandra moaned into Lisette's cunt while Mark trembled at the exquisite, wet heat. Once he had sunk in right up to the hilt, he paused for several moments, adjusting to the wicked sensation. He already understood he was no match for this woman's sexual prowess, and he was thankful for her indulgence. Once he was inside her, Lisette released him and wrapped her hands around her mistress' thighs, holding them firmly while she began kissing devotedly at her cuntlips, clit. Mark's visible shaft and balls bounced upon her forhead. Clearly she intended to facilitate their mutual climax and make sure they both experienced as much pleasure as they could handle. Knowing not to wait any longer and to simply take cues from Lisette, Mark made sure he had a firm grip and began pushing back and forth inside Alexandra, using long, slow, and deliberate thrusts to begin. The blonde moaned in appreciation of his efforts. "Hmm, you are very skilled with your phallus, my friend," she sighed, smiling back at him before returning to kissing Lisette's cunt and sliding a slender finger inside her. "You do not just fuck, like so many men of this day, but you know how to make love. Your Becky is a lucky girl." "Thanks;” he managed to say, praying for endurance as he felt her rhythmically squeeze herself around him with every thrust, even while she pleasured her servant girl. This woman was a succubus. Hadn't she said she was an agent of Anne of Austria? She'd be formidable indeed. And if she was one tenth as good with a sword or pistol as she was at fucking. Alexandra giggled at his inability to speak in full sentences, resolving to go easy on him and simply enjoy herself. A small allowance, perhaps, since she was obligated to help him. She pushed back slightly until her ass cheeks met his hips and her wet cuntlips pressed against his skin, enveloping his cock entirely. Beneath her, Lisette kissed and slid her tongue all over them, lost in a dutiful reverie. She realized Mark could take guidance and instruction without words, if she made her intentions known. She made him fuck her a little faster now by not only moving back and forth, but by squeezing him inside her more quickly, a technique she had taken years to perfect, but always to advantage. Soon, he was sliding in and out of her rhythmically, almost pulling his cockhead out of her before pushing all the way back in. Given his ample length, this was a wicked delight for her; fucking his cock was even better than sitting on his long eager tongue! Lisette was not only pleasuring them, but helping to regulate their coupling, something she could now do instinctively. Her devotion to her mistress was total. If Alexandra was fucking a man, Lisette was not jealous (usually), but simply played her part in making sure everyone enjoyed the experience as much as possible. They were practiced lovers who knew one another's needs and desires completely, and Lisette now fulfilled her role in the tryst with sublime skill. Mark shuddered as he felt Lisette's fingers massaging beneath him, along his balls and even his taint. To his surprise, it served to help distract him from the unreal pleasure if being deep inside Alexandra, allowing him to last longer than he had any business hoping to. He began pushing in and out a little harder, asserting himself and making the blonde goddess moan in pleasure. Soon, Mark was slapping his hips against her ass cheeks loudly, increasing the tempo to the place where Lisette couldn't readily use her dainty fingers on him. She instead continued lapping at her mistress' clit and massaging the split lips as he fucked her. Lisette trembled as Alexandra pushed two fingers deep inside her now, finding her pleasure points with unfailing skill while she sucked on her servant's clit, moaning around it. Alexandra squirmed back against Mark lustily and onto Lisette's mouth, panting in delight. "Oui!" she gasped, gyrating her pelvis expertly, the rings of her cunt muscles rippling along Mark's throbbing cock. "Right there! So good!" Mark was finding his body trembling, the familiar tingle starting to well up within him. His thrusts were faster but less controlled now, his hips performing an almost shoving and scooping motion as he dug inside the French noblewoman. Lisette was massaging her Mistress' cunt eagerly, delighting in the mingling taste of desire on her two lovers. She watched as Mark's glistening shaft slid back and forth, pulling wetly at Alexandra's nether lips. "Gonna cum!" he grunted, stiffening, trying to hold on while making sure that was what she wanted. "Yes!" Alexandra purred, her body flushing with warmth at his words. She heard him groan and press as hard as he could against her. She obliged by pushed back against him and squeezing for all she was worth. She sighed loudly, sliding her fingers as deeply into Lisette as she could, shivering in pleasure as her orgasm blossomed through her. Her wanton cunt fluttered around Mark's cock as she felt it pulsing and spurting his pearly cum deep inside her. They heaved and ground against one another for nearly a minute until Mark sagged back on his haunches, while Alexandra slowly laid forward, his cock sliding out of her with a wet pop. She rested her tits now on top of Lisette, who busied herself by tilting her head up between her mistress' legs, kissing her cunt and then lapping at it hungrily, her tongue finding the creamy globules of Mark's cum inside her, thrilling to the tangy taste. Alexandra sighed in contentment, her eyes closed, squirming gently. Not long had passed before the dutiful girl had cleaned her mistress thoroughly, ending her task with loving kisses of devotion. Alexandra rolled gently off to the side while Lisette got on her hands and knees, moving over to between Mark's legs, He was serenely staring at the rafters and trying to catch his breath. Without waiting for any particular permission (not that any was forthcoming or needed), she took hold of his still-swollen but softening cock and laved it with her mouth, once again thrilling to the taste of his cum mixed with her mistress'. She cleaned him off readily, loving how responsive he was to her touch. Finally, Alexandra rose to her feet and came to stand beside them. She pulled Lisette to her feet and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl, kissing her deeply and lovingly. Lisette melted into her embrace, submitting completely and with reverence. The kiss finally ended, and the patrician smiled down at Mark before offering her hand to help him up. "I found Lisette in Provence maybe three years ago, trapped in a tiny chapel and being disgraced by a priest. I ran him through with my blade and took her under my wing." "Mistress has had my undying devotion and unconditional love since then." Lisette added in very thick English, the first sounds of it she had offered. The phrase sounded almost practiced or rehearsed to Mark's ears, then he realized it probably was. Alexandra had taught Lisette what to say about herself once she had initiated a beginning statement she'd recognize. It was how they protected her in English, because it demonstrated the depth to which they were devoted to one another; Alexandra would kill a man of God for Lisette, and there was nothing in creation she would not do for her mistress. "I believe it," Mark replied, nodding. "I'm glad she saved you, Lisette, and Alexandra's lucky to have you." Lisette was taken off-guard by what Mark had said once her blonde mistress had translated for her, and she blushed and looked at the floor. It occurred to Mark that she probably wasn't used to anyone aside from Alexandra expressing any concern about her life or safety. She was just another peasant, after all. "Let us clean ourselves lightly and then prepare for a light meal and then bed, shall we?" Lady D'assaut suggested. "Mark, I do not know if you are a man of faith or not, but Lisette and I usually have about an hour of devotional time just before we turn in. You may join us or do as you please, as long as you're respectfully quiet." Mark nodded and joined the pair in going to another room that was clearly dedicated to bathing, something he doubted was all that common in this time and place. Lady Alexandra really was out of the ordinary. He watched with interest as Lisette helped her mistress into the large, round wooden tub, under which a contained fire was glowing. Easily big enough for the three of them (no doubt by design, he thought), he allowed himself to be helped in before the two women began washing him, giggling as they used tiny packets of powdered soap and their bodies to make sure he was clean all over. "Normally, to come across water like this is rare and expensive," Alexandra explained as she knelt patiently and looked at him while Lisette squeezed her tits into her mistress magnificent orbs, lathering her. "But this particular building has an underground stream running below it, so retrieving water from a well in the courtyard is comparatively simple. And I do love to be clean." "I can get behind that." Mark agreed. "Maybe in the morning." Alexandra quipped readily, winking at him. They finished bathing and then Lisette dutifully dried them both off. Linen shifts were provided and then Mark sat with his host in the study while Lisette prepared a light meal for them all. He'd never eaten a pigeon before, but it was surprisingly good. Small nibs of sweetened chocolate comprised dessert, and of course there was the wine. Once they had finished, Alexandra and her companion excused themselves and went into another small room to say their devotionals for maybe an hour. Then they invited Mark to come and sleep with them in Alexandra's massive, plush bed, covered in crimson sheets threaded with gold. Everyone removed their linen shifts and clambered into bed. Alexandra and Lisette kissed one another and then Mark goodnight. In spite of having two naked women nestled into his sides, he slept surprisingly well. A Louvre Incarceration. The moon was a bright white orb overhead as Rebecca looked out the window from her stately bedroom. A tear glistened on her cheek, as it had every night since her abduction and arrival in Paris. Not only was she stuck here, in the Sun King's France, with no method of returning home, but she was the unwilling 'guest' of Cardinal Richelieu, who was seeing her trained to serve Queen Anne. Worse still, and what truly broke her heart, Mark was dead. Killed by the Cardinal's men and no doubt still lying in that fateful field, his body ravaged by scavengers. She bit her lip as tears started to roll down her face, willing herself not to break into sobs that everyone on this floor of the palace would hear. She buried her face in her hands and surrendered to the grief, shuddering as she wept, not caring about the moon framing her in rays of silvery light. She was so alone. Mark had to exercise patience that morning, since they were eating a leisurely breakfast and casually discussing matters. But the matters were nothing of import, at least not from his point of view; they were not improvising plans to save Becky, which was foremost on his mind. Alexandra was well aware of the agitation just under his calm surface and she finally sought to allay it. She smiled and put a hand on top of his as she sat next to him at the table. "My friend," she said gently in her impeccable English. "Worry not for your Rebecca." "How can you say that?" he asked, trying to keep any exasperation out of his voice. "It's all that really matters to me, not that I'm not grateful, of course. But I feel; I feel like we are dawdling." "I understand," she allowed, smiling her beautiful smile that would drive the clouds away. "But I assure you, she is in no immediate danger, now that she is in the Louvre. And as you have already noted, she has been there for a month. We cannot simply rush in and storm the palace, because we would be risking her life, along with many others, not the least of which is my queen, Anne." He sighed and nodded. "But you are helping me rescue her, right? As in, we free her from the palace and she and I can get away, find my time machine and go home?" She smirked and nodded. Maybe she didn't blame him for his suspicions. "Yes, Mark. That is the only end here. I cannot remain indebted to our mutual associate Chester Edgeworth, especially not since this is one of his temporal matters. I want nothing to do with them, so leaving; oh, what is the term; 'loose ends', if you will, does not suit me. It pains me to say so, since I like you, but with any luck, I will never see you again once we have rescued your Rebecca." She smiled and squeezed his hand again. "Please trust me. And exercise patience. I already have a plan in mind, I just need more information from the palace." "Oh, okay," he said finally, hoping he wasn't being unreasonable. "Just out of sorts, I guess. Not a lot of experience with the Baroque Period." She tilted her head slightly and smirked. "Baroque Period? Is that what people in your time refer to this era as?" Mark shrugged. "Yeah, I dunno why." "In my language, baroque refers to an oddly-shaped pearl," she mused. "You might have a better understanding of my time and history than I do, in retrospect." "I doubt it," he chuckled, put at ease once again by her gracious manner. "I never really had much of a head for history. Might actually be pretty skewed, since everything I know comes from movies and novels written by people from your future." "I don't know what a 'movie' is, but I think it's best I not either," she mentioned, stroking his wrist. "Once Lisette has finished serving dejeuner, she will proceed to the palace to see what she can find out. While it is known that I am back in Paris, I do not want to appear just yet for my royal duties. Maybe later today or tomorrow. While the Cardinal cannot absolutely confirm that I am more than a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, I wish to not give him any reason to start looking." "Fair enough," Mark allowed. "So, what'll we do until then?" "While I could indeed provide endless hours of pleasant discourse for you, I think that would not be the best idea, since you are a man of tomorrow." Alexandra pointed out. "And, to be honest, I am rather smitten with your lovely cock at the moment. So, I was thinking that we might continue to fuck one another until it is time for us to undertake your mission." Mark laughed. "Yeah, I'm good with that. "Becky would think I had gone totally stupid if I didn't agree to kill time that way." "I do not know her yet and I think I love her," Alexandra mused, smirking. Her sapphire eyes glittered with delight. "We shall make the most of our time together." They went back to eating their breakfast, prepared by Lisette, and if Mark found the fare unusual, he certainly couldn't complain about the taste. Sausages, hearty bread, along with some vegetables and a broth. A new delicacy to the Sun King's France, Chantilly cream, rounded out the meal, and she promised him that later they would share of bottle of a very special new type of wine, from the region of Champagne. Lisette had dressed and excused herself, heading off to the Louvre to find out information for her Mistress. This left Mark alone with Alexandra, and if he was feeling any awkwardness, she certainly wasn't. She smiled and shed her clothes, exposing her glorious body. She took him by the hand and led him back to her bedroom, smiling at him. "Not to seem indelicate, Mark, but; have you ever fucked a girl in her behind before?" she asked. He nodded. "Done it with Becky more than a few times recently. And yeah, I'd really like to fuck yours." She smiled, pleased with his response. "Excellent, it has been a while for me, at least since a man has done it to me." "Lisette certainly has her uses." Mark chuckled. "More than you can ever know, my friend," she agreed as she stood in front of him and helped remove his clothing. She was close enough that her tits pressed to his chest, her hips touched his and her cunt was nestled against his cock, which was beginning to swell. She looked up into his eyes, her own glinting with desire. "I look forward to feeling you in my ass, Mark." She put her arms around him and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. He was thrilled by her assertiveness, even if she wasn't being dominant. His own hands rested on her hips before starting to wander around her divine form, finally finding her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging them, making Alexandra moan. "What I am starting to appreciate about you men of the future is that you enjoy lovemaking and carnal activity for its own sake," she purred, one of her hands now sliding down to find his cock and stroking it. "You seem free of the confines of the church's strictures, proscribing pleasure through sexual activity." "Not much point in doing it if you don't enjoy it," he agreed, shivering as her nipples poked against his chest while she squirmed her tits around. She bit his lower lip and tugged back on it, wiggling her ass cheeks against his hands. "And you seem to enjoy it a lot for someone from this time." She broke their kiss to look up at him again, her eyes flashing with her growing to fuck. Her hand was fondling his cock, which was now rigid and pulsing. "In my service to the queen, sex is often a weapon I employ. I am required to be proficient in its use to defend her and the realm." "Lucky me," he breathed as she knelt in front of him, dragging her opulent tits down his torso before arriving at his phallus. He shuddered as she began kissing his cockhead before slowly sliding him into her mouth and down her throat. "Uh, God. Beck; I mean, Alexandra." She giggled and pulled her mouth off his cock to look up at him in amusement, her hands still stroking. "Our techniques are that similar? It took much training for me to be this good, if the women of your time are this competent with ease, then I am jealous." She buried his cock in her mouth again, bobbing back and forth lustily and making him shiver and grasp at her golden locks. Her own hand snaked down between her legs and began playing with her increasingly wet cunt, teasing it. She knew they had at least a few hours before Lisette's return and she intended to make the most of them. Mark groaned and fought to control himself, little or no match for her exquisite technique. He knew he'd have to fuck her soon, or he'd be cumming in her mouth. And he was really looking forward to fucking her ass, as she intended. "Hmm," she purred, popping her mouth off of his cock and smiling slyly while sliding her tongue up the underside as she held it up. "Would you care for a chance to reciprocate, lover?" He nodded, and she stood before pulling him onto the bed. She laid him on his back and then crawled over him, facing down his body. She didn't suck on him again, so much as she toyed with his cock to keep him hard, while allowing him to kiss and lick her slick, pliant snatch. Mark buried his tongue inside her and Alexandra moaned loudly, pumping his cock. Mark slid his tongue in and out of her, marveling at her taste. He also began teasing her little knot, slipping the tip of his finger into her ass, making her groan shamelessly. She wriggled back against him, her glorious behind swaying above his face while her cunt pressed to his mouth. His finger pushed further inside her ass, wiggling about, exploring her. He gently added another and she keen as his fingers stretched her knot, preparing her for his cock. She was gasping now, her body incredibly warm and her skin flush with desire. She lunged his cock back into her mouth again, bobbing up and down hungrily. She pulled herself off his tongue and fingers, squirming down his body until she was straddling his cock. She eagerly slid his throbbing cock inside her cunt, causing him to stiffen and arch his back. She rode up and down lustily on him, while reaching back and pulling her ass cheeks apart. Mark took the hint and began fingering her puckered hole again, making sure it stayed limber and ready to receive him when she was ready. He shuddered as she squeezed herself around him, rippling her cunt wickedly until they were both sweating and shaking. Then she looked back at him and he nodded. She pulled off his cock and spun herself around, now facing him. She put on hand on his chest to steady herself, while the other reached back and took hold of his tool, helping to guide it to her quivering notch. Her felt it press against her ring, slippery with her cunt juices and then popping through readily. Alexandra sighed as she slowly but steadily settled down, taking him inside her back passage. Within seconds, he was buried to the hilt inside her. They both sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of their union. Alexandra began slowly moving up and down, Mark's cock sliding inside her ass. She pulled up until only the head was inside her, then sank back down, taking him all the way back in. Mark's hands moved up to her opulent tits and began caressing and squeezing them. She murmured in pleasure at his touch and clenched her cheeks, squeezing him tightly inside herself. "Yes, I will certainly miss this," she breathed, her eyes closed. "You are so deep inside me." He pushed his hips up and down in rhythm with her movements, his fingers now rolling around her nipples, pinching and tugging on them, the sting sending taboo thrills lancing through her. Her fingernails pressed against the skin of his chest before she leaned down and kissed him heatedly, their tongues tangling. The change in the angle of penetration meant she rocked back and forth along his length now. His hands moved down to cup her ass cheeks again, massaging them in circles and pulling them apart, making her whimper in delight. Their bodies churned and writhed against one another heatedly, mingling in pleasure. Their kissing became more fevered as tingling warmth enveloped them both. Then panted through the kiss, with Mark bracing his legs to thrust himself up deeper inside her while she braced her hands outside his shoulders and pushed back against him, burying his cock deeper in her ass than ever. Sweat shone on their skin as she pulled back from the kiss and started down into his eyes. Mark shook uncontrollably and groaned loudly, pushing up with all his might. Alexandra sighed and sat up tall, sinking onto him as he began pumping his cum into her ass. Her knot clenched greedily, throbbing around him as he filled her tight confines with his essence. She massaged her cunt frantically, her fingers flying over her clit. She bathed his groin with her cum. Colors swirled behind her eyes as the climax permeated her being. She couldn't remember the last time a man had made her cum so hard. Not since; She shuddered and collapsed on top of Mark, trembling. He lay beneath her, his hands tiredly coming to rest on her lower back. They lay in exhausted bliss together, unwilling to move. His cock throbbed in her ass, which gripped him possessively, unwilling to relinquish his prize. He showed no sign of softening, which she was thankful for, since she was deliciously pinned to him. A full hour-hour passed before they stirred. She smiled down at him before kissing him again. She rocked on his stiff cock before slowly pulling off and then laying on her side, pressed to him. She kissed his jaw, whispering words of gratefulness to him. She felt the need to do so, since there was a distinct possibility that these might be his last days alive, given the danger they would face in rescuing Rebecca. Alexandra had sworn to try and help him, and she would do everything she could, so long as it did not compromise her service to the queen. She couldn't tell him exactly how much planning and detail this required as a result, since letting the silly boy know the extreme danger he was about to face might make him balk at a crucial moment and then death was inevitable. She could only hope that his excellent physical health and desperation would see him through. It was all they had. Lisette would be back soon, and it would time to plan their mission. God help us all. Rebecca sat in her chair at the small desk of her bedroom, scowling as she drained her glass of red wine, the fourth she'd had in the past hour. She knew she was drunk, but she was too sullen and angry to feel it. She'd done little except drink since she'd been brought to the Louvre. Except for when she was heading to bed, she was rarely alone, surrounded by women who dressed her as a lady of the court and attempted to train her in her duties. She proved predictably reticent, although she had stopped punching her handlers over the last week or so. It wasn't their fault, after all. A few of them seemed worried about her well-being if she continued to prove so difficult, but Becky was mostly beyond caring. What did she have to look forward to, now? Life amongst these backward, stymphian midgets? She had a distinct feeling she was better off dead. She sighed and opened another bottle, pouring her fifth glass of the evening. Oblivion in wine was all she looked forward to. "Oh, there you are. I was hoping to meet you;” lilted an attractive voice from her door. Facing away from the entrance to her room, Becky looked up into the mirror on the wall, and saw a striking silhouette standing in the entranceway. A tall woman in a burgeoning gown stood there, apparently waiting for permission to enter. Slowly she turned around, hoping her eyes weren't too bleary with wine and grief. She rose from her chair and stood quietly, holding her hands primly in front of herself. She dipped her knees slightly in a curtsey, just in case this was Anne of Austria. The figure came into the room slowly, approaching her. The lamps and candle finally illumined her, and Becky's breath was taken away; the woman was stunning! Golden blonde hair spilled down her back, while her sapphire eyes gleamed with a sensual intelligence. Her face was classically beautiful and her impressive bust sat high inside her dress, the cleavage prominently displayed, as was typical of the court. Becky felt a tingle inside herself as she approached. "You are Rebecca, oui?" the woman asked, her voice glorious in Becky's ears. She stopped in front her and smiled dazzlingly before returning the curtsey. "I am Alexandra D'assaut, one of her majesty's ladies. I am pleased to finally meet you." "I; it is a pleasure to meet you, too, my lady." Becky said falteringly. This woman was more beautiful than she thought possible for someone of this era. "I know you are new to the palace, and it is rumored that the circumstances of your arrival were less than ideal," continued Alexandra. "You are even more beautiful than I have been told, Rebecca, and I sense a great sadness in you." She stepped even closer to Becky, who bit her lip and swallowed slightly. Their tits were almost touching, and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. "But I say to you now, my friend, despair not and take heart," Alexandra said in a voice barely above a whisper, as if what she was saying was a secret meant only for Rebecca. "The days to come will give you hope." Becky didn't know what this woman meant, but she wanted to believe her. The ache in her heart lessened slightly. They stared into one another's blue eyes quietly, lost in what they saw. And then Alexandra leaned in and pressed her lips to Becky's, kissing her gently. Becky did not retreat from the kiss, although it was a second or two before she could react. She then moaned slightly and returned the kiss. The two women moved closer, tits pressing as they held one another by the arms and continued to kiss. Becky trembled, thrilling to the intimacy they shared. Alexandra pulled back from the kiss, a tempting strand of desire hanging between their lips. They both breathed as they stared, but she finally smiled and delicately used her finger to wipe the strand from their lips. "You will see me again soon, my friend," she cooed, her fingers gently caressing Becky's cheek. "I look forward to our reacquaintance." She backed up two steps and curtseyed gracefully, compelling Becky to hastily do the same, before she turned and glided out of the room, like a vision. Becky unsteadily sat back in her chair and let out a heavy sigh. Her heart was still pounding, and for the first time in weeks, she felt something other than heartache. Becky turned back to her bottle, trying to distract herself from the unexpected throb in her loins. "Your majesty." Alexandra said reverently, her curtsey deep and formal. "I have come to speak with you about a matter of some concern." Sitting in an ornate chair in the lavish boudoir, Anne of Austria, probably the most famous woman in Christendom, smiled at her trusted servant. "You have only just returned from Spain, my dearest Alexandra, and you have yet another matter to bring before me?" Alexandra nodded humbly, her hands in her lap. "Yes, my queen. Though it pains me to do so, I must beg a boon and ask you to trust me." "My trust in you is implicit, Alexandra D'Assaut, and needs no confirmation. Has it ever?" the queen intoned, gesturing for Alexandra to approach her, while waving for her attendants to live them alone. The two women curtseyed and exited quickly. Alexandra knelt in front of Anne and put her hand on the queen's knee in supplication, not looking up. "Your majesty, a beautiful young woman has recently been added to your retinue, and is set to enter your service within the next few weeks." Anne smiled and nodded. "I have not met her, but I am told she is quite possibly the only woman in France who rivals you in beauty. Her name is Rebecca, oui?" "Just so, my queen." Alexandra confirmed. "Do you wish for her to serve directly under you as a lady of the court?" Anne asked, knowing full well that Alexandra also enjoyed the company of woman, not merely men. "She is indeed breathtaking to behold, my queen, but no, that is not my request of you. The girl, Rebecca, do you know how she was brought to Paris?" Anne considered. "The rumor is that she was found by the Cardinal, who was convinced she would make a magnificent addition to my household. She did not come willingly, initially, and has proven somewhat intractable since." Alexandra nodded. "It is as you say, your majesty. But I know something about this woman that not even the Cardinal knows or can begin to guess at." The queen frowned slightly. "She is not a danger to us, is she?" "Not as such, no," Alexandra admitted. "But please accept my word on faith that we have no right to her and must not keep her." Anne tilted her head. "Is she secretly a member of a royal family?"

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. <

Lori Gold discusses her transition from writing young adult to commercial book club fiction. She and Kris chat about writing in the age of Artificial Intelligence. Lori discusses her current works-in-progress, teaching other writers through Grub Street Center for Creative Writing, and her latest novel, Romantic Friction which Sally Hepworth, New York Times bestselling author of Darling Girls, describes: “Relatable characters, sharp writing, and emotional turbulence will make you laugh and cry." Amy Tintera, author of Listen for the Lie, calls it "Smart, funny, and unpredictable." Gold is the author of four novels for young adults as well as an adult historical novel (all under Lori Goldstein). She teaches creative writing at Grub Street in Boston and lives on the South Shore of Massachusetts. Her latest novel, ROMANTIC FRICTION, was included in Zibby Media's Most Anticipated Books of 2025. Learn more at www.lorigoldsteinbooks.com. Click the links to learn about Lori's teaching, her current plotting and querying classes available, or Grub Street Center for Creative Writing. Special thanks to NetGalley for advance review copies. Intro reel, Writing Table Podcast 2024 Outro RecordingFollow the Writing Table: @writingtablepodcastEmail questions or tell us who you'd like us to invite to the Writing Table: writingtablepodcast@gmail.com.

This week in 1922, the birthday of Kurt Vonnegut. He wrote some of the most striking and acclaimed novels of the 20th Century, but before he became a literary giant, he tried his hand at something more small-scale: a board game. Plus: today in 2017, a fast food chain in Argentina decided to team up with its usual rival for a good cause. Kurt Vonnegut's Lost Board Game Is Finally for Sale (Open Culture)Burger King embraces McDonald's charity in 'Day Without Whopper' in Argentina (The Drum)Back our show today on Patreon so we don't have to try to invent board games to pay the bills

Indy reviews all of Michael Crichton's novels including; Jurassic park, Sphere, The Andromeda Strain… and the rest. It takes a while. Then Samantha previews her favourite movie in recent memory: Wicked, just in time for the sequel's release.  I Love This You Should Too is hosted by Samantha and Indy Randhawa

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

Wait, what are the wrong bodily fluids?! Join the AniTAY crew to find out as we chat more about the Fall 2025 Anime Season!This episode's members: Gugsy, Requiem, Marquan & Reikaze with Marquan handling the editing duties.The AniTAY Podcast is a bi-weekly podcast brought to you every other Wednesday. It is available on all your favorite podcast services! If you like us, be sure to subscribe to your favorite service and give us 5 stars! Your support is much appreciated and will help us grow and continue to provide this style of content.Itinerary Intro: 0:00:00–0:03:32Housekeeping: 0:03:32–0:05:59Req's thoughts on The Chainsawman Movie: 0:05:59–0:19:12 (spoilers 0:10:28–0:16:00)News — 0:19:12–0:32:50ShowsMy Gift Lvl 9999 Unlimited Gacha: Backstabbed in a Backwater Dungeon, I'm Out for Revenge! — 0:32:50–0:36:46My Friend's Little Sister Has It In for Me! — 0:36:46–0:38:36May I Ask For One Final Thing (Punch Princess) — 0:38:36–0:45:00Pass the Monster Meat, Milady! — 0:45:00–0:49:12The Reincarnated Villainess' Dark History — 0:49:12–0:52:42With You, Our Love Will Make It Through — 0:52:42–0:57:37My Status as an Assassin Obviously Exceeds the Hero's — 0:57:37–01:03:30Chitose Is in the Ramune Bottle — 01:03:30–01:09:29Ranma 1/2 season 2–01:09:29Question of the Week — What is your favorite anime spookems? — 01:12:36–01:22:21End — 01:22:21–01:24:08Missed the previous episode of the AniTAY Podcast? Check it out here: https://medium.com/anitay-official/anitay-podcast-s10-e18-top-5-penis-penguins-361f8f963947

The Time Riders: Part 1 The Timeless Art of Shagging. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Give A Monkey A Gun. Mark's bedroom interrogation. Mark sat in the chair in his bedroom by his computer desk, trying to look chastised, but he was worried that a tiny hint of an evil smirk was crossing his lips. He hung his head in the hopes it would be less noticeable. Standing in the room with him were two stone-faced men in black suits and dark glasses. They stared at him silently for several minutes before glancing at one another. Finally, the shorter one sighed. "Okay, Mark," he said heavily. "Once more, from the top. I want you to give us as detailed an account of what happened as you possibly can. Leave nothing out." "Everything?" Mark asked quietly. "Everything." "Well, as long as you think you have the time." Mark quipped, sitting up straight and leaning back in his chair somewhat casually. The tall man frowned. "Was that a joke?" "Not a very good one, apparently," Mark muttered. "Stick to the facts," the man said firmly. "We hate jokes." "No kidding," Mark mused, settling in to relay the events he had already explained to them twice that evening. "Alright, let me start at the beginning." "Not funny, young man;” growled the shorter agent. "I found the thing in the park. What did you say it's called?" Mark asked. "A Holmes Field Device." "Right," Mark agreed, nodding. "I found the Holmes Field Device in the large lilac bushes over in Grosvenor Park." "Why were you in the bushes?" interrupted the tall man. Mark gave him a wry look. "I was making a drug deal. I was supplying uranium to Libyan terrorists. I was hiding the body of a transvestite hooker I killed. What does it matter? It's not your worry or jurisdiction, if you're telling me the truth, is it?" "Fair enough," said the shorter agent amicably. "Please proceed, Mark." Mark nodded. "It was really small and compact at first and I didn't know what it was. But it kinda gave off a hum and it almost had a glow, I dunno. I pulled it out of the bushes and over to a secluded area where there was still some light from nearby lamps. Anyway, I must've tripped a catch or something on it, because the thing folded out on itself into what looked like a platform and grew these weird-ass frames with displays and dials and buttons and shit. It was like something out of Star Trek." "I can see how it might appear advanced to you," the shorter agent said, nodding. "To my partner and I, it's rather primitive, but that's not your problem. Please proceed." "Once I was sure that no one was around or likely to come through, I began fiddling around with the dials," Mark continued. "At first I was confused, because it didn't seem to do much, except spit up weird numbers on the analogue screens, but then I thought about it and realized they were dates. They were just; off." "Not off," the shorter man said. "Just dates set by a different calendar, if you will. The Holmes Field Device was developed by Ashleigh Holmes, the younger brother of the more famous Sherlock and Mycroft, but he was perhaps even more brilliant. He modified the Gregorian calendar to account for leap years and Daylight Savings, changed the accounting of seconds, minutes, hours and so on to eliminate the need for such inconsistencies. The Holmes Calendar will be adopted eighty three years in your future, but it is so accurate that it won't need to be modified until the year 12,645 AD." "Huh." Mark said in response, not caring much. "Oh, and he also invented the temporal displacement device you found," the man added. "Although it'll be another two hundred and eight years before that comes to light." "Anyways," Mark continued, killing the history lesson. "Once I figured out they were dates and times, I tried setting the time back a few hours. After that, I started pushing some buttons. Things got blurry for just a split second and then the sun was blinding me. I was still alone, but I stepped off and looked around, still in the same spot, but obviously at a different time of day. I looked at the clock on my cellphone and it seemed to have adjusted to say it was six hours earlier, just like I'd set the dials." "Your phone adjusted accordingly. Electronics will do that." "I was really excited to look around but realized I didn't want to be caught and I suddenly thought I should be careful." "What a novel idea," the tall man said dryly. "Go on." "Well, I went back to the Holmes Field thing and set it to take me back to the time I'd come from. And it did. Then I began thinking about what sort of things I might be able to do if I was careful." "And this is where it got interesting, yes?" the shorter agent remarked. Mark explains his connection to Becky. Mark nodded. "Maybe I could change things. Not big things, but little things. It suddenly occurred to me the D that Miss Fischer gave me on my Physics exam earlier in the semester had kept me from getting into the university of choice I'd applied to. So I decided to see if I could fix that somehow;” Mark crept through the bushes under the cover of dark, oddly certain than no one was going to see him. He couldn't explain why, but he felt a confidence that he would not be discovered because he hadn't been there before. It didn't make sense, but maybe that was a good thing. He knew where Miss Fischer lived, he'd seen her pull into the small, stand-alone house in her Rav4 on many occasions. He slipped onto her property through her back yard, instinctively knowing that her rear door would be unlocked. It was already ten o'clock, but there was no school the next day so she was still likely to be up. A stick snapped in the yard one lot ever. His head snapped around to see if he'd been spotted, but he didn't see anything. A dog began barking. Stupid animal scared the shit out of him. He moved quietly across the lawn to the back door, opened it slowly and found himself in a small kitchen. It was dark except for a small night-light and he paused, listening for movement, hearing no one nearby. He stared in bewilderment at the sheer amount of organic cereals and grains that lined the counters around the room, along with fresh fruits and other nutritious snacks. No wonder she always seemed so perky, even if she was shy and retiring. Beyond the kitchen, he could see the living room and small dining room were still lit. He padded across the linoleum floor silently, hearing nothing. He peeked into the dining room and through it into the living room. No one. There was a yoga mat on the floor in front of the long, flat-screen TV. The decor consisted of low tables and beanbag chairs others. Damn, this woman was crunchy. He heard water running upstairs and some off-key singing. He crept up the steps to the second floor, preparing himself for what would no doubt be an awkward situation, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do this, whether he liked it or not. There was a shower happening and he now recognized Miss Fischer's voice. She seemed to be alone and her vehicle had been standing by itself in the driveway. If she was already showering, she wasn't going out again. Mark approached the bathroom, noticing the door was wide open. He guessed that made sense, since Miss Fischer had told the class more than once that she lived lamentably alone. She took the teasing from her students good-naturedly, but now he could confirm it. She was a bachelorette. She was singing and he could hear the shower water splashing off her body as he hid beside the door. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, calming his nerves before subtly peeking around the door and into the bathroom. There was no tub, just a walk-in shower. His eyes went wide when he realized that her shower stall was composed of fog and steam-proof glass, giving him an almost completely uninterrupted view of the activities within. Except for the droplets of water that trickled down the treated glass panes, he could see his teacher in all her naked glory. Miss Fischer was facing away from him, running her fingers through her long, wet blonde hair, swaying her body back and forth, her amazing ass glistening wetly. He tuned out her rather painful singing of a Beyoncé song and let his gaze travel up and down her womanly form. His heart thundered in his chest, to the place where he was worried she might hear it. Miss Fischer always dressed rather modestly at school and he was shocked to see what a rocking' bod she had. Clearly she hadn't been lying about the yoga and the CrossFit she claimed to do. Her skin was fair, but not pale. Her shapely back tucked into a small waist, which in turn blossomed out into fit hips which were anchored by her amazing ass. Her long legs tapered down to tiny ankles. If he hadn't been so astonished and exhilarated, he would have had a massive hard-on by now. "C'mon, turn around;” he found himself urging her silently. Miss Fischer obliged and Mark thought he might faint. She'd always been pretty, of course, but Mark doubt that anyone at school would have guessed what a sex-pot their Physics teacher was. Where the hell had she been keeping those tits? Did she fucking strap them down? They were large, yet perky. The tiny pink nipples sat atop them proudly, announcing the arrival of their mistress right behind them. Her stomach was flat, but still soft, begging to be kissed. He forced himself to look lower and saw that her cunt was shaved except for the small strip of trimmed hair above. The nether lips were even and not quite plump, but still dismissed any worries of a bony thigh-gap. Her clit hood barely peeked out over the top. "Fucking fuck;” he thought, his mind racing. "Who knew Miss Fischer was so insanely hot?" He watched rapt, utterly forgetting that she might see him if she happened to look his way. The blonde seemed to have no interest in life beyond those glass panes, however, as she caressed her body slowly, making sure she was cleansed of her organic craft shower gel. Her manicured hands glided up and down her lovely body while she closed her eyes, letting the water from the showerhead rinse it away. As Mark watched, she kept her eyes closed but bit her lip gently, one of her hands moving up to slowly and gently caress her tits while the other snaked its way down her stomach and between her legs to begin playing with her cunt. A quiet sigh escaped her mouth and Mark felt his cock rapidly swelling inside his jeans. The teacher pressed her forehead against the glass, her eyes still closed. Her hand massaged her ample tits while the hand between her legs moved up and down slowly, massaging the lips. Mark swallowed and adjusted his cock inside his pants as he watched intently, unable to believe he was being treated to this incredible show. Another moan escaped her lips as she pleasured herself and began pinching one of her nipples. It took all of Mark's willpower to not pull his cock out and begin stroking it on the spot, because he had other plans. Miss Fischer, not so constrained, continued to finger her cunt until she was panting. She stopped suddenly and reached up to pull the detachable showerhead off its arm and brought it down to her body. She hummed as she let the stiff streams beat against her shoulders and then her tits. Mark could see her already hard nipples getting ever harder. She then slowly moved the showerhead down her sensual form, over her trim stomach and between her legs. She let out a loud sigh as the water battered her lips and clit. She turned herself around again, pressing her ass cheeks against the glass while she put the showerhead under her cunt to continually stimulate it. Her cheeks squirmed rhythmically around on the glass pane as she jet-fucked herself. Mark watched in disbelief as one hand came back behind and spread her cheeks to play with her little, puckered knot. Miss Fischer let out a grunt as her middle finger slid inside her ass while the showerhead continued to bombard her cunt with its tiny jets. Mark gripped the front of his pants again, unable to resist, giving himself a squeeze. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't last much longer, because he wasn't sure he would if she kept this up. Fortunately for Mark, his teacher did not seem terribly interested in delaying her reward. The squirming became more pronounced and she groaned as her body began to tremble and then shake. Her finger was working itself in and out of her ass faster and faster while the showerhead was almost crushed to her cunt lips. She let out a gasp and a cry before falling to her knees, her body almost spasming as she came. Mark gritted his teeth as he watched, desperately willing himself to not massage his cock and join her in autoerotic bliss. The restraint would be worth it. He removed his hand and settled for squeezing the doorframe while watching his teacher. Miss Fischer slowly leaned forward until  her head was on the floor, her ass in the air. She moved the shower jets slowly up and down over her molten sex while her finger teased her ring. He listened to her panting and sighing as she started to come down from what was a clearly badly-needed orgasm. Mark couldn't wait much longer or he'd lose his nerve. He quietly stepped into the bathroom and started to head toward the shower. Miss Fischer had finally moved up back into a kneeling position, still facing away from him and taking slow, deep breaths. She then got to her feet and replaced the showerhead back in its arm above her. She rinsed her face and body again before turning off the water. Silently, Mark waited off to the side while she slid open the door and stepped out somewhat awkwardly, trying to get her long, wet hair out of her face. She groped around blindly for several moments and Mark realized she'd forgotten where she put her towel. He handed her a hand towel which she absently took and wiped her face with before pushing her hair back. Mark meanwhile handed her a full-sized body towel. "Thank you, Mark," she said pleasantly. "I'm always; Mark!" This last bit was exclaimed loudly and she slammed herself back against the opposite wall from him, her eyes wide with utter shock. Both towels she'd been holding flew from her grip, leaving her naked and dripping wet. He had no idea why, but he tried to maintain eye contact with her. "Uh; hi, Miss Fischer," he said somewhat awkwardly before swallowing. "Uh; nice shower you've got there." Some of her wits seemed to return and she realized she was standing naked in front of one of her students. She moved her hands about haphazardly, making several comical attempts to cover herself, eyes still wide and mouth agape. "Wha; wha; y; you;” she stammered. "Yeah, I didn't exactly expect to be here either," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "First of all, don't scream or anything. I'm not here to' "Then why are you here, you little pervert?" she hissed, finally regaining control of her vocal chords. "Get the fuck out and I'll possibly consider not calling the police!" "I; can't;” he admitted weakly. She frowned and looked down at his legs, choosing to ignore the rather obvious bulge in the front of his pants. "Your legs work just fine, young man, but I'll tell you what's not going to after I've kicked you there if you don't get out of my house." "No, I;” he began but then realized he didn't quite know how to articulate what he wanted to say. What the hell had he been thinking, doing any of this? He finally bent over and picked up the large body towel she'd lost and handed it to her. "Maybe; I guess you should put this on first;” She snatched it away from him and wrapped it around her body, but if he'd been hoping this made her more amenable to his presence then he'd been wrong. What did happen was her eyes began to blaze with fury as she composed herself. "So help me, Mister Simmons," she growled as she advanced on him menacingly, her near-nudity forgotten. The towel did very little to conceal her buxom figure. "If you don't tell me right this instant what the hell you are doing in my house, watching me take a shower, I'll show you exactly what CrossFit has done for me, along with the jiu-jutsu classes. You'll be wishing I'd called the cops." Mark held up his hands, hoping to calm her. "There's no need for that, teach, I' "Don't call me that off school grounds," she snapped, still moving toward him until it was Mark backed up against the wall. "Ex-plain your-self;” Mark swallowed again, fearing for his well-being. He'd been so much smoother when he thought this over in his head earlier. "You; you failed me on the Physics exam." She paused in her menacing advance for a moment and raised an eyebrow. "Your exam isn't for another two months. Irrelevant. Why are you creeping on me?" "I know it isn't," he said hastily. "But; you're going to fail me." "Then maybe you should be back home studying instead of breaking into my house," she snapped, getting ready to beat him senseless. This wasn't like him, but that was no excuse for endangering her. "Last chance and then it's night-night time with my fist in your brain." Mark squeezed his eyes shut, trying to compose himself. His heart was pounding so hard that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get another erection again. "It; I can't explain it if I think you're going to kill me! Please stop threatening to kill me and I'll tell you." She stopped cornering him and paused, looking annoyed and skeptical. "This'd better be good, because you're either going to find yourself punched unconscious by a girl or talking to the cops. Explain and then you get your choice." "It's; actually really good," Mark breathed. "I'm not me. I mean, I'm me, but not the me you know." "A doppelganger?" she asked dryly, not amused. "Lay off the sci-fi and anime, Mark, it's making you too stupid for physics." "No, I;” he paused and took another deep breath. "I'm Mark from this coming up summer." "Oh, you're a time-traveler now, are you?" she mused snidely. "So tell me, since you already know; do I eat your heart or your liver tomorrow with my afternoon salad?" "Look, look;” he said, trying to keep his voice from pissing itself in fear as he reached into his wallet. "Look, here's my new voter ID that I got just after my birthday." He held it out for her to look at. She glanced at it and then up at him, clearly not impressed. "Ya' know, other kids fake their ID's to say they're old enough to drink. This one just says you're now eighteen. No wonder you're failing physics, you can't even fake an ID right." "Uh, no, I;” Mark stammered, frustrated with how badly he was fucking up. "I can't help when I'm from, I'm from three months in the future." "And you're here to tell me I'm secretly pregnant with the man who will lead us to victory over the AI machines?" she sneered. She cracked her knuckles. "It's a pity, you actually were a pretty good-looking kid before I did this to you;” "No," he blurted out. "I came here to convince you to change my grade because the university I wanted to go to rejects me over that grade!" She paused for a moment. "Okay, so why didn't you just study?" He shrugged nervously. "I don't know. I can't do anything about that now. Except like this." Miss Fischer stopped and closed her eyes for a moment. This was the weirdest home invasion and rape she'd ever heard of. "What?" "Maybe; it was stupid of me to fail," Mark said. "But that's my past. I can't change it directly. But I was hoping to come here and convince you to let me pass anyway." "If for some reason I were inclined to believe that you were from the future, which I don't, by the way," she stated. "Why would I change your grade if you don't deserve it? Maybe you shouldn't be going to university next year, maybe you need to, oh, I don't know, quit doing juvenile shit like this and grow the fuck up before you go out into the world?" "Can we; can we talk about this somewhere else?" he asked nervously. "No, I think we're good right here," she said flatly. "You're backed into a corner and can't escape. But if I let you live, clearly you might have a job as a science fiction writer. Tell me more and keep it good." "No, you'll kill me." Mark said, sweating profusely. "I'm definitely going to kill you," she pointed out. "But if your lie amuses me, I might make it quick and painless. Your choice. And go." Mark didn't know if she was kidding or not, but he decided to treat the threat as real. "I; I came here to seduce you and convince you to change my grade." Miss Fischer paused, her eyes widening. She said nothing for several seconds but then mirth creased her pretty features and she began to snicker. Seconds later, she was laughing loudly and uncontrollably. "It's not funny." Mark grumbled, scowling darkly. "Yes, yes it is;” she wheezed, her outrage clearly giving way to utter amusement. "Oh, God; I almost wish this was true. There'd be so much less blood to get out of the grout on my floor;” She stood up and looked at him again, her eyes shining with tears. "So let; let me get this straight; you came here to sex me up so good that I'd give you a passing grade you don't deserve?" She burst out laughing again, leaning against the sink to hold herself up. In spite of his predicament, he noticed her magnificent cleavage down the top of her towel. Miss Fischer seemed to have forgotten. "I was a lot smoother in my plan for all this." he muttered. "Oh, I'm sure you were, Mark," she said almost sympathetically as she looked up at him again, tear stains on her cheeks. She smiled and he couldn't help but notice she was beautiful. He really had no idea of how to proceed, even if the was committed at this point. "So how's your plan working out so far?" "Fairly rotten," he said. "I didn't know where I'd find you when I came in and then I saw you in the shower and just; well, I couldn't help but watch." What he was saying slowly dawned on her and he could see she was getting irate again. "You stood there and watched me masturbate?" she hissed, her eyes flashing. "You little pervert!" "Take it as a compliment!" he said hastily, wincing. "You're really really pretty!" "And this is where you tell all the other boys at school, right?" she growled. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think anyone at school has any idea what sort of a knockout you are, miss. I mean, you dress pretty conservatively. Any of the girls who saw what I just did would be really jealous." "Well, thank you for that, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to creep on me!" she shot back. "Honestly, why am I still letting you live, you little felon? Are you hoping the courts will take it easy on you because you're not eighteen yet?" "I am eighteen," he insisted. "I'll prove it." "You're going to let me cut you open and count the rings?" she asked. "No, I;” Mark began, his mind racing. "Your dresser!" "What?" "Your dresser in your room," he said, nodding. "In the back of the third top drawer, there's hand-written note from you to yourself about tonight. And to prove to yourself that it's true, you wrote down something only you know about yourself." She paused and frowned at him for several seconds before stepping aside and allowing him out of the corner. She pointed out toward the hallway. "March, mister. I'm not letting you out of my sight." Mark exited the bathroom and walked down the hall to one of two bedrooms, which was currently dimly illuminated by a small Himalayan rock-salt lamp. She made him stand in the middle of the room and wait quietly while she began rummaging in the drawer he had mentioned. She seemed to have forgotten she was only wearing a towel or had stopped caring. "You're mother's going to weep at your closed casket funeral after I bite your eyeballs out for staring at my ass." Miss Fischer said as she kept digging around while bent over. Mark coughed and looked away from her ass. She finally stood upright, holding a small envelope she'd withdrawn from the back of the drawer. She frowned as she examined it for several seconds, as if she didn't recognize it. She looked at him again, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You swear you've never been in my house before?" He nodded, placing one hand over his heart and the other in the air. "Never, miss." She considered and then unsealed the envelope, pulling out the single, folded page and began reading. Whatever she red caused her to sit, almost flump very suddenly on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide with disbelief. She looked at him and held the letter up in a trembling hand. "Is this true?" Mark shrugged. "You wrote whatever is in there, I have no idea. The only thing I can tell you that's true is what I already told you, Miss Fischer. I'm Mark from the summer and I've come back in time to convince you to change my grade so I can go to university." She sat on the bed, looking dumbfounded. She said nothing for several seconds, staring off at the far wall blankly. She then looked back at him again and held up the page. "I wrote this. I wrote this after I; after you and I;” He nodded. "I'm assuming you did it to prove all this to yourself." "How is this possible?" she asked, still lost. "How are you even here, if you're from the future and I'm not just bug shit nuts and hallucinating all this?" "I; I have a time machine." Mark replied. "Really," she said, nonplussed, her shock fading rapidly. "Just like that. A kid who can't pass high school physics has a time machine and can operate it." "Well, yeah, that's how I ended up here." Mark reasoned. "Show it to me." "I will," he said, nodding. "But first, I need to make sure you're going to pass me in that exam. Otherwise, all this means nothing." "What, so let you fuck me and give you a passing grade?" she asked, scowling. "Why should I do all the work?" Mark frowned. "First of all, you wouldn't be doing all the work, miss, thank you. Second, it's supposed to happen this way or I wouldn't be here." "Bullshit," she snorted. "For all you know, I sent you home with your dick in your hand and no passing grade." "Then what was written on that paper that shocked you so much?" he countered. Miss Fischer said nothing for several seconds but then looked back up at him. "You're; you're sure you're eighteen right now? Because you aren't eighteen in my class." He nodded. "And you'll show me this time machine," she pressed, desperate to convince herself. "After we;” Mark nodded again. Miss Fischer exhaled heavily. "Give me a moment, this is a lot to take in." "How so?" he asked. She scowled up at him. "I'm about to fuck one of my students who's apparently a time-traveler and trade a passing grade for sex. What do you think is weird about this?" He shrugged. "My whole evening's been weird, miss. I found that thing that turned out to be a time machine, then I' "You just found it today?" she exclaimed. "And the first thing you did was decide to come back and fuck your physics teacher?" "Yeah, I kinda need that grade." Mark admitted. She scowled again. "So you came back in time and the principal reason isn't even to fuck me?" Mark pulled at his face for a moment as he tried to explain. "It's like I said earlier, miss. No one at school knows how hot you are because you never show it. If you did, every guy and bi girl in the school would want to fuck you." "Maybe I dress like that so I don't have a pack of little horn dogs lusting after, oh;” she murmured, catching herself and realizing she just defeated her own argument. Fluid time was rough to argue against. She sighed again. "So, uh; how do we do this?" Mark scratched his head. "I dunno. Nothing about this evening has gone the way I planned it, but we still ended up here. I guess we need to improvise." Miss Fischer considered. "Well, you've seen me naked and doing myself, so I think we need to redress the scales," she sighed. "So strip down and let me see what I'm selling my academic integrity for;” Mark felt an uncomfortably warm flush of embarrassment at her suggestion, but proceeded nonetheless. He had planned on getting naked with her anyway, even if had been under more sensual and controlled circumstances. Clearly he'd flopped at being the Casanova he'd intended on for seducing her and getting that perfect grade. He started by removing his t-shirt, pulling it over his head while watched impassively. Mark was proud of his body, since he played sports, but was suddenly very self-conscious now that he'd seen how stupidly hot his teacher was. He put a hand against the wall and steadied himself while he used his feet to pull his sneakers off. Then he undid his button and unzipped the fly on his jeans before letting them drop slowly, revealing his black boxers. "Well, at least you're not wearing tightie-whities," Miss Fischer mused. "That would've been a deal-breaker, for sure." Mark paused, blushing as he realized he was about to pull down his boxers and fully expose himself to his teacher. He had to admit, this had never occurred to him before tonight. "Well don't wuss out now, Don Juan," she said somewhat impatiently. "This was all your idea, after all." Mark squeezed his eyes shut, hooked his thumbs into his boxers and pulled them down. All she heard was silence for several seconds. Finally there was a whistle from Miss Fischer. "Okay, I can work with that. Come over here, Mark." As he walked toward her, she stood and allowed her towel to fall away, revealing her body again. Mark's eyes went wide as she willingly revealed herself to him. He was no longer spying on her, this was something completely different. Miss Fischer stood directly in front of him, her body scant inches from his. She could see in his eyes that he was bewildered by her sudden change in attitude. "Well, obviously I'm not going to tell you what the secret thing only I would know was, but the note also said I should just throw caution to the wind and enjoy myself," she said lightly, walking two fingernails up his chest and over his shoulder. "And I try very hard to take my own advice." "So," she declared, looking up into his eyes, her blue ones glinting. "We are going to fuck. A lot. In return, I'm giving you an amazing grade on your exam, no matter how bad you do and you're showing me this time machine my letter confirmed exists. Do we have a deal?" He nodded. He was still nervous, but things seemed to have worked themselves out, even if it hadn't at all gone as he expected. But maybe that was time at work or some deep shit. "My note also said I had such a great time that I insisted we keep fucking," she purred, her palm now running down his chest and over his stomach, perilously close to his nether regions. "How does that sound." He swallowed again. "That; sounds great. So, do I keep travelling back here through time to meet you?" "Well, yes," she said rather obviously. "I can't fuck the underage Alex in my class and I can't even give away that I know, right? He has to remain a blissfully unaware fuck-up." "Yeah," Mark said somewhat awkwardly. "Stupid kid;” "Oh, don't be like that," she said cheerfully, teasing her fingers over his cock and making him shudder. "If you hadn't been a lazy grot this semester, you wouldn't have needed to come back to change your grade, wouldn't have seen me in the shower and known that I'm secretly a hottie and then fucked me and got an amazing grade, right?" "Yeah, I; I guess." Mark admitted. "So we just need to set it up so that I keep coming back to meet you and we do this until we catch up with real-time in the future I come from?" "Yep, you're my new fuck-buddy," she said sweetly, now moving closer to him so that her nipples caressed his skin. "Speaking of, you've got some work to do;” With that, Miss Fischer moved back to the bed and laid on it, her legs still over the side. She looked up at him seductively and spread her legs, exposing her cunt, which was glistening wet. "You may not have earned that passing grade all semester," she said in a husky voice. "But you're sure going to work for it now;” Mark moved forward, aware of the fact that his cock was swelling rapidly and knelt by the bed between her legs. He leaned in close and was instantly enchanted by the sight of her slick snatch, which she now spread open with two fingers. Mark leaned forward and pushed his tongue against his thick, slippery lips, guessing that she was not in the mood to be teased. His tongue snaked up and down before slithering over her clit, causing her to shudder and press her hips against his face. "Uh, yes!" she gasped, grasping his hair with the free hand and stroking his scalp. "Thank God, you're not a virgin." "No miss," he murmured as he kissed his way around her cunt, his tongue lapping at the lips. She tasted almost sweet and floral, such a big change from that slag Brenda. "I know my' "Call me Becky, darling," she sighed, slowly undulating her hips rhythmically against his face. "If we're going to be lovers like this, save the 'Miss Fischer' stuff for roleplay." "Yes miss; I mean, Becky." he replied from between her legs. He now put his hands on her thighs to brace himself and began licking her in earnest, for once looking forward to earning perfect marks on an exam. He could feel his hard-on pulsing and moved her leg slightly so it pressed up against him, causing him to shiver. Becky felt it and moved her shin back and forth slowly, teasing him. "Oh, yes, Mark;” she moaned, her fingers gripping her hair. She was sitting up on one elbow so she could look down at him and her leg that was not brushing against his cock was now on the bed, bent and spreading her wide. He couldn't believe how wet she was. It wasn't water from the shower, she was really turned on. Whatever she'd said to herself in that note had released a sex demon in her. He swirled his tongue around her clit before burying it inside her cunt hungrily, eager to drive her into a frenzy. Becky clenched her teeth and ground her hips against his face now with a dreadful eagerness. Her skin was warm and getting moist as he tongue-fucked her. One hand snaked underneath her snatch and the middle finger began teasing her tight, pink knot. "Shit!" Becky gasped, shuddering as he slid the finger into her tight back tunnel. "You saw me fingering my ass in the shower! Uh, fuck yes! Do it!" Mark sucked on her cunt while he wriggled his finger in her ass, feeling her shin massaging his cock eagerly. As angry as she'd been earlier, he was also thinking about her rather shy and retiring persona at school and decided to take a gamble. Without saying anything, he stood up, bringing his face away from her crotch and his finger out of her ass. She gasped and whined, looking up at him in needy confusion, but he then reached down to take her arm and pull her off the bed and set her on her knees in front of him. Becky took his cock in her hand and still slid her tongue around the throbbing head while looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, glassy with desire. She teased him for a few more moments before sliding her lips all the way down his shaft, taking him completely inside her mouth. Mark groaned and clutched her wet, blonde hair, shivering. Becky began slowly bobbing back and forth, her mouth forming a perfect, wet seal around him. Her hand followed her mouth along his length, stroking and twisting the glistening skin gently. She hummed and moaned, vibrating his cock with her mouth and making him shudder again. The fingernails of her free nails gently grazed over the skin of his thighs, tingling. "Jesus, Mi; Becky;” he gasped. "You're amazing at sucking cock!" "Umm, I would hope so," she purred, pulling her mouth off him long enough to smile up at him while her hand pumped his shaft to keep the rhythm. "I watch a lot of videos and practice on some pretty life-like dildos, I'd like to think I'm doing something right." "You are." Mark sighed as she attacked his cock again with her mouth. "You're the best one I've ever had." She made an 'Hmm' sound around his cock, clearly enjoying what she was doing. She teased his sac with the hand that wasn't massaging his cock and reached around to caress and squeeze his ass cheeks. He couldn't believe what a libertine she was turning out to be, and he was the only one at school who knew! When she pulled her mouth off him again and looked up at him, he could see there was a deep and smoldering lust in the blue eyes, a need for deep sexual pleasure. She squeezed his cock with her hand and her voice was almost molten with lust when she spoke to him. "I'm getting on the bed again and you're going to fuck me," she said huskily. "You're going to make me cum real hard if you want that perfect exam score." She clambered back on the bed, lying on her back and spreading her legs for him again. Mark followed her onto the mattress, kneeling between her legs. She massaged her cunt eagerly with one hand while he lined himself up with her nether lips. She spread them wide open, revealing her glistening inner pink. "Fuck me, Mark," she purred, eyeing his pulsing cock. "Fuck me good and hard;” He pressed the mushroom head of his cock against her pliant lips, sliding it up and down, teasing her for a moment and brushing over her clit. She sucked in her breath and hissed, her fingers stroking along his length as he toyed with her. Then she groaned loudly as he pushed his hips forward and slid deep inside with one solid push. Her inner walls gave way around his iron-hard shaft but squeezed him tightly. She felt great around him, as tight or tighter than any other girl he'd ever fucked. "Yes," she hissed, her hand pulling him down to lean over her while one leg slung over his back and hooked itself there. "Hmm, that's a solid cock you have there, Mark. Now fuck me stupid;” He leaned forward and put his hands on either side of her body while keeping his weight suspended above her rather than pressed down. He looked into her eyes and began to push back and forth, moving his cock in and out of her. Becky bit her lip as she looked up at him, her fingernails digging slightly into his waist. She clenched her cunt around him as he pushed in and relaxed as he pulled back. "Oh, God, I've missed the real thing;” she moaned, her head falling back as she let the feelings of pleasure flow over her. "Yeah, speaking of," Mark said, remembering this important point. "I'm not using a condom here, so I'll need to pull" "No you don't," she panted as she thrust her hips against him. "You've got a fucking time machine, Mark. Think about it! Was I pregnant when the semester ended?" He thought about that as he kept thrusting into her, having a hard time concentrating on anything other than how tight and wet her cunt felt around him. "N-no, I don't think so;” "Then cum in me!" she gasped. "I'm already better at this time stuff than you are! Now fuck me harder if you want that grade!" Mark nodded and thrust harder and faster against his teacher, watching her glorious body shake as he fucked her. Her incredible tits wobbled and she squeezed one of them, moaning loudly. Her soft bed barely made a sound beneath them as he pistoned his hips up and down. After a disastrous beginning, his evening was going better than he could have possibly imagined. "Uh, now from behind," she breathed, starting to turn over. "Fuck me from behind;” Mark grabbed her hips as she slithered around into her new position on her hands and knees and ground his cock against her cunt and ass, gripping her tight. Becky groaned shamelessly and squirmed her ass back against him, biting at her knuckle. She arched her back as he found her cunt and slid back inside her. She clearly wasn't interested in any slow buildup, because she began grinding back on him eagerly, getting him in as far as she could. He could feel the wetness of her cunt dripping on his thigh. He kept his firm grip on her hips and began pounding against her, shuddering as she squeezed and clenched around him with fervor. "Definitely tighter than Brenda!" he thought as he thumped his hips to her ass cheeks. Becky was panting heavily as she buried her face in the pillow, her ass arched in the air. She gripped the pillow cover between her teeth almost tearing at it. A sheen of glistening sweat had formed on her soft, creamy ivory skin. She squeezed him with each thrust, his cock feeling bigger and bigger each time she did it. She'd missed this so badly, sacrificing her personal pleasure for the job. Maybe now she didn't have to. She almost snarled in delight as he reached forward and wrapped her hair in his fist, pulling back and craning her neck. For an eighteen year-old boy, he was being marvelously assertive now that they'd found their rhythm. Becky loved having her hair pulled, but her favorite part was yet to come. She pushed back hard and forced Mark onto his haunches. She straightened herself until she was sitting on his lap, facing away. Becky began bouncing up and down, panting as she sank onto his cock, taking it deep inside and squeezing it. Mark moaned and his hands came around to clutch her tits, squeezing them hard. Her hands joined his in massaging and molesting them while they fucked. She had him pinned in one spot beneath her and she alone controlled the tempo now. She moved her long blonde hair to one side and he understood immediately. He began kissing and biting at her neck, causing her to shudder and sending slivers of pleasure down her spine. She writhed and bounced on his lap with abandon, reveling in the sensation of a real cock deep inside her after all this time. She resisted the very strong urge to turn her head to the side and kiss him. Not just yet. When she felt the inklings of deep pleasure building inside her, she moved off his cock and pulled him around onto the bed, lying him on his back. Her eyes were fairly blazing with lust as she straddled him, lining her gooey cunt up with his throbbing hard-on. They both moaned loudly as she sank down onto him, his cock burying itself up to the hilt. Her fingernails dug into Mark's shoulders while she pinned him and she hissed as his hands found her tits again. "Yes, darling;” she grunted as she began grinding herself down on him, shuddering at how deep he was inside her. "Fuck me, thrust that cock up inside me, Mark. Fuck;” Mark pumped his hips up dutifully, matching her pace. He loved the cowboy position and clearly she did as well, but he knew he wouldn't last very long at this rate; she felt too good and was too tight for him to not bust before long. His hands fondled and mauled her lovely tits before he pulled her down closer and took one of the pink nipples into his mouth, sucking on it greedily. Becky keened and shivered in delight. Mark sucked and rolled his tongue around the pink bud, even biting and tugging on it, much to her pleasure, seemingly, because she got even wetter and tighter around his cock while they fucked. He could hear the wet sucking sounds her cunt made as it swallowed his cock, feel her warm, sticky wetness on his thighs. He'd never imagined it would feel this good. He'd been certain earlier that most of his time would be spent conning his shy teacher into doing this at all, forget the grade issue. But Miss Fischer was a sex-starved fiend, seemingly, and she was going to make him cum harder than he ever had before. Her golden hair fell around her lovely face, which was mere inches above his. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on working her hips against him, up and down, his cock nearly all the way out of her before she took him back deep inside her steaming, slick tunnel. They were both covered with sweat and ragged gasps were all they could manage as they gripped one another and writhed lustily, desperate to cum together. Mark gritted his teeth and was squeezing her tits again while Becky pushed down harder and harder on his cock with each thrust. She began whimpering and shaking and Mark could feel her cunt clenching tighter and tighter with each moment. "Oh, shit;” she gasped, her whole body shuddering now as she pushed down feverishly. "Oh, God, Mark, I'm' She sat up straight and arched her back, teeth gritting as she fought to hold on for those last few precious moments; Becky almost screamed and Mark moaned loudly as the floodgates burst. His throbbing cock began pumping cum deep inside her and her cunt spasmed around rippled around him. Everything went black for Mark as he was enveloped by a tingling warmth of an intensity he'd never known before. He could feel his cock and even his balls spilling his entire offering into her slick, tight depths, both of them still thrusting against one another madly. Becky finally collapsed on top of Mark, her chest heaving. Her body was limp, almost like a wet dishrag. Mark lay beneath her, equally exhausted. His still-hard cock was buried in her cunt, and they could both feel their mingled essence oozing out of her and trickling down his shaft. Her soft, warm body felt divine against his. Slowly, sluggishly, he wrapped his arms around her and she hummed contentedly at the embrace. She finally opened her eyes and smiled before kissing his nose. "I think you earned that perfect exam score," she purred. "Definitely earned it." "That's good to hear," he mumbled, still lost in lethargic pleasure. "I'd better start failing all your quizzes too." Becky giggled and hugged him close, sighing. She finally brought her head up again, resting it on her elbow and looking at him. "We'll be laying here for a bit yet, but we also need to talk about doing this again. A lot. The letter said so." Mark nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that, Becky. Then it's up to you to make sure my past self doesn't suspect anything." "I'm sure I can work that out," she mused. "He's pretty annoying, unlike your sexy self." He smiled. "Hard to believe how much difference three months and a time machine can make." "Hmm, and you still have to show it to me before we part ways for the night," she said lightly. "The letter says you kept your word and showed it to me. So let's shower up and then you can take me to see it, okay?" Mark nodded. This was, thus far, the best evening ever. They were walking back to Becky's house, arm-in-arm, laughing and talking like lovers. Not only had Mark shown her the time machine, he had actually shown her how it worked by bringing her back to earlier in the night. They'd hidden in the neighbor's yard and watched Mark's earlier self creep to her back door. Becky had stepped on a stick that broke loudly and caused Earlier Mark to look around warily, but a barking dog covered the mistake. "I was wondering what that sound was," he chuckled. "Never would've guessed it was you and I." "Yes, but you need to be careful, Mark," she said, trying to sound serious as they said on a quaint swing in her backyard, holding hands. "I don't know how all this works, but getting that close to your earlier self can't be good. You need to remember where and when you've gone to avoid yourself." He nodded. "I promise to not visit you more than once a day, at night. You'll clear an area on your basement floor where the Holmes Field Device can show up undetected by anyone else, away from prying eyes." She nodded. "We'll need to fine-tune the dials and so on to get exact coordinates, but I think the device moves somewhat slowly against the earth's rotation, so you can actually travel physical distances as well as through time if you're extremely careful." "Wow, Becky," he said, shaking his head. "You're already better at this than I am by a factor of a thousand." Becky smiled. "I want to say it's because I'm a physics teacher, but that'd be a lie. It's just solid math and common sense, really." She turned in to face him in the loveseat of the swing and brought his hands up to rest against her heart. She stared deep into his eyes, the darkness of night protecting them from prying eyes. "You have my word, Mark, that you'll receive that perfect test score," she said quietly. "In return, you'll do extra studying with me on the nights you come back and fuck me, so that just maybe you'll actually deserve any offer you might get." He nodded. "And I promise I'll find some way to take you on a time excursion." She smiled and brought his hands to her lips, kissing the fingers gently. "We're going to be fucking so often, Mark. We'll be sick of each other by the time the semester ends." He smirked. "Doubt that, teach. You're the best fuck a guy could ask for. And I can't even tell anyone." Becky giggled and lowered his hands, letting them linger on her soft tits beneath the shirt she now wore. She sighed at his touch and then leaned in to press her lips to his, finally kissing him. They rocked slowly on the swing beneath the moonlight, kissing silently for several seconds before Mark gently pulled back and smiled. "I'd better get going," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "Couple of more seconds of that kissing and I wouldn't have been able to leave." Miss Fischer nodded. "I know. See you tomorrow night?" He grinned. "That's the plan. Have a good night, teach." "It already was, thanks to you, Mark." Becky said, blowing him a kiss and then waving as his silhouette retreated out of sight. Silence. Becky leaned back into the slowly rocking swing and stared at the stars overhead for some time. Finally she giggled and stood, skipping back into the house cheerfully. She had a letter to write. Back to the interrogation: The two agents were silent as they assessed the young man, who waited stoically for some sort of reaction from them. He found himself waiting several minutes, which he was not surprised by. "So?" Mark said finally. "Totally hot story, right?" "Yes, we're both agog and atwitter," the tall man said dryly. "Young man, the Temporal Enforcement Agency takes a dim view of using any device, registered or otherwise, being used for reckless personal reasons, forget showing such anachronistic technology to anyone from a time period not acquainted with time travel." "Well, why the hell would I know that?" Mark retorted. "I'm not the one who left a Holmes Field Device lying around in the bushes in the Twenty-First Century where any shmuck could find it. You're lucky it was me and not some deranged criminal." "Be that as it may," the short man interjected. "There are consequences for reckless use of a temporal device." "Imagine that," Mark said somewhat petulantly, having a sinking feeling he knew what was about to happen. "So, what, you're just gonna take it away from me?" Neither man answered immediately. Something occurred to Mark and an evil grin spread across his face. "You can't take it away from me," he concluded, seeing the dismay in their expressions as he figured it out. "I'm meant to have this Holmes Field Device or you already would have. You know I'm going to be using it in the future so there's no way to keep it from me." "Well, your personal future," the tall man admitted. "Much of your personal future is still the past for my partner and I, but this past you're in right now is completely new to the two of us." "So, my future self is in your past but my now self is just happening?" Mark asked. "Wild. How do you keep it all straight?" "By doing as little as is humanly possible," the short man said very firmly. "Even trained experts in quantum and temporal travel can get confused when the timelines gets cluttered." He now pointed to his partner's ear. "You see his bionic ear?" Mark nodded. "I accidentally shoot it off six years from now and there's nothing either of us can do about it. It's his past, because it's already happened to him, but it's my personal future. All I can do now is apologize in advance." The tall agent grunted and looked away, clearly displeased. "That's really deep." Mark mused. "Yes, it is. It's not meant for idiots. And whether you like it or not, certain things can never, ever happen. Time will prevent paradoxes from happening." "Like what?" Mark asked. "For instance, you cannot go back in time and kill your own grandfather before he gives birth to your father, because that would mean you never existed and therefore could never pull the trigger to kill him. A paradox." Mark shrugged. "Okay, but how does it stop me?" "Who can say?" the short agent replied. "All I can tell you is that you simply won't succeed in killing your grandfather, no matter how hard you try and meticulously you plan. If you try to shoot him, the gun will jam. If you try to poison him, it'll turn out he is immune to it or you used tap water by mistake. If you try to strangle him, you might have a heart attack before you finish the job. You; will; be; stopped. The Temporal Enforcement Agency spends most of its time making sure nitwits like you don't get clock-hammered every time they get a dumb idea." "Huh," Mark said, still trying to wrap his brain around all this mumbo-jumbo. If he hadn't fucked Miss Fischer earlier, he still might not believe this was real. "What else can't I do?" "People usually find it's hard to get close to significant historical events," the tall agent mentioned. "Alexander cutting the Gordian Knot, the Crucifixion, the Yalta Summit; Time doesn't like it when people who shouldn't naturally be somewhere try to crowd in and get involved or snap a few pictures. They'll find that the technology fails to get them there, generally. We call it 'The Limelight Effect'. Do yourself a favor and don't try. We've seen people get stranded and die in the wrong era because of the Limelight Effect when the batteries or power source on their device go suddenly dry." "Well; what if I wanted to; ya' know, get with a girl from another time period?" Mark asked. The agents looked at one another and sighed in despair. "You kids and getting laid," muttered the shorter one. "Same principals as before; get too close to a famous women you want to have coitus with and Time will push you away. Try to become yo

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 30 Time For Celebrating! In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.   When I fell to Earth I realized perfection; Earth has everything while Heaven has no Evil. "Ask Belle," I replied. "This fight was for me being allowed on the bed. You still need to pay for breaking into her room." "What?" Leigh squeaked. "Come here, Slut," Belle laughed. She hooked an arm around Leigh's waist from behind and began dragging her back into the house. "Zane?" Leigh called out fearfully. "Coming, coming," I groaned. "I feel like someone dropped a cinderblock on my head, and my ribs." I staggered for the door only to be intercepted by Willa. "You are one freaking weird dude," she whispered. "You have no idea," I responded softly. As she came alongside, I put my arm around her waist, then down inside her panties, and cupped her right ass cheek. I gave it a good squeeze. I figure Willa could pull away or punch me in my sore ribs. Instead, she bumped my hip and put her head on my shoulder. "Have you ever been with another woman?" I asked. "No," she regarded me. "Willing to experiment?" I teased her. She smiled, snaked a hand along my back to my neck and finally grabbed a handful of hair. She pulled me down into a kiss and finished with her own devilish grin. I took that to be a yes. We made our way back to Belle's room, where Belle and I stripped out of our wet clothes. "You don't have to handcuff me," Leigh begged of Belle. "I'll behave." "I know you'll be a good girl, but I don't care. I'll do it because I want to," Belle taunted her. Leigh pouted and looked my way. I shrugged helplessly in response. She stripped, crawled to the middle of the bed, rolled onto her back, and put her wrists together just below her breasts. "I'd rather fight than be a victim," Belle mocked her as the bindings clicked shut. "No, that's some cock, you skank," Leigh wound up her courage. Belle's response was to retrieve the vibrator and turn it on. "Calling me a skank makes you feel tough, eh?" Belle closed in. The vibrator began rubbing against Leigh's thighs as I settled into the bed behind Belle. Willa resumed her position on the far side after she stripped down. Belle gave me a curious look over her shoulder before turning back to Leigh. I snuggled into Belle before nibbling and sucking on her neck and shoulder. As Belle pushed the vibrator between Leigh's labia, I ran my left arm down Belle's back and parted her ass cheeks. I could feel Belle look over her shoulder again, my lips were sucking on her shoulder at that moment, and visually question what I thought I was doing. I could sense a struggle going through her mind by the increased tenseness of her shoulders. She had to be deciding if she would let me distract her or not. A moment later she made up her mind; she bent her leg and pulled her knee toward her chest to make my access to her easier. I scooted farther down so I could move my hand below her ass and begin stroking her cunt, back to front. Belle wiggled the vibrator inside Leigh's cunt as my fingers worked her over. She kept it going until she felt my cock pushing past her ass cheeks. Belle didn't caution me about her anus; she didn't have to. When my cockhead touched her cunt, Belle responded by looking back at me, daring me to stick it in. "Do you want me to stop, Belle?" I gazed into her eyes. Belle's response was to suddenly push down on my cock, pushing it half way in with one thrust. "Fuck," she hissed. I grabbed her hip and finished driving my rod all the way in. I quickly withdrew, then slammed it home again. At the same time, I moved my right hand, pinned underneath me, under Belle's body, until I burrowed to her pelvis. Belle began humming as my hand reached her slender landing strip. I also noticed that her activity with Leigh had lightened up. Her cunt walls strongly massaged my cock's passage and the stimulation was soaking up more and more of Belle's attention. The vibrator cut off. Belle had dropped it so she could start pulling and pinching her breasts as my four fingers began to vigorously rub her clit. For five minutes I kept going at her sideways until she grabbed the sheets so she could shove her body into mine and almost pushed me off the bed. Her climax seized her, her breath came in short gasps and tremors passed from her body to mine. "Damn it," Belle cursed. It took me a moment to figure out what she was pissed about. She began thrusting back against me. "Still hard, huh?" she growled. Why, yes I was, but I wasn't going to tease her about it. I missed the visual exchange between Willa and Belle but the end result was Belle giving in, letting Leigh off the hook. "I'm getting on top, Zane," Belle demanded. What proceeded was a bit of bedroom acrobatics but I kept my cock inside as I moved towards the bed's center while Belle swung up to a reverse cowgirl position. I pushed up, palms on the bed behind me, and watched her ass begin to bounce on my lap. At first, Belle rested her hands on my shins and used that to balance her rocking and thrusting of the hips. "Don't, Zane," Belle panted as I pressed my chest against her back. When I wrapped my arms around her, she made one last protest. "Oh, damn you." I hugged Belle tight, my left arm around her stomach and the right around her chest. She slowed down for a few seconds before turning her upper body so that we could kiss. Our tongues flickered against each other, then slowly danced back and forth between our mouths. "I really should bite you right now," Belle sighed. "What the hell for?" I muttered. "I'm going to have to look across the room now and find a reason for not jumping your bones, you idiot," she breathed in short bursts. "Someone likes being 'Zaned'," Leigh teased. Willa slapped her somewhere; I couldn't see where. "Shut up unless you want to be tied up all night," Willa whispered. I was busy letting my hands migrate over Belle's tight body now that I had 'permission' to sex her up. I let Belle lean into me. Her hands cupped her breasts while my hands went from her shoulders to the top of the tits but avoided the nipples. I skated around her upper chest, linking my hands over her pulsing abdomen then lightly traveling down to her thighs. "You are not in a hurry," Belle observed breathlessly. "It is our first time," I reminded her. "Oh," was all she had to say. Her body rubbing against me was her real reply. It was with gradual ease that we upped our tempo until Belle finally 'gave it up' again. This time I came with her, and I completely spaced about a condom, again. Belle writhed her body against mine for almost a minute as we regained our composure and our breaths. "You came in me, didn't you?" Belle said seriously. "Yeah, I screwed up. I'm sorry," I groaned. "What are we going to name our kid?" Belle showed a tiny bit of mirth. "I'm partial to Beausephus if it is a boy," I told her as I kissed her neck, "and Andromeda if it is a girl." "Our kid is going to kick ass," Belle laughed. "Aren't you on the pill?" Leigh wondered. "Listen, you stupid Cunt," Belle twisted on my semi-rigid cock so she could lock eyes with Leigh, "do I look like I can afford Healthcare?" "Answer me, Bitch," Belle began wiggling off my lap and out of my arms. "Let it go," I begged Belle. "Don't think that just because you have my cock in my cunt, that makes me your bitch," Belle growled to me. "As your friend, I'm asking you to drop, 'my cock'?" I hesitated. "Just because MY cock is in your cunt doesn't make it your cock," I teased. "Crap, slip of the tongue," Belle mumbled. "It's okay," both Leigh and I said. "Several of our girls feel that way," Leigh added. "We feel possessive about that cock." "What she said," I finished. "That's why when it is not attached, I keep it in a locked box." Belle snorted and Willa and Leigh laughed. "You went with the detachable cock?" Belle stared at me. "That's so sad." "Hey, now," I blushed. "I have a horny naked biker babe sitting in my lap, with my cock in her cunt. I'm a little shaken up right now." "You can be real trying at times," Belle leaned into me compassionately. "What? You said you wanted me to try your ass?" I joked. "Okay." Belle's vaginal muscles constricted around my cock, exciting me to hardness again. "You rip up my ass and I'm going to rip off your balls," Belle grinned shark-like. "Your? No, I meant Willa's ass," I verbally back-pedaled. "Look, she's sitting there, ass up looking all inviting, lush, and full-formed." "You wouldn't dare," Willa smirked at me. By her own accounts, Willa loved anal sex, but apparently it wasn't something she normally shared. Belle's instincts were leading her past the deception. "Are you freaky, Willa?" Belle mocked her friend. "Hey," Leigh piped up. "Barbie Lynn likes it and she's no freak." I rolled onto my side, trying to let Belle slide off my shaft. "Am I going somewhere?" Belle turned and joked with me. I shrugged, put my left hand on her shoulder and pumped into her hard several times. "Okay, okay," Belle panted. "Go bang Willa. My cunt is still tingling from the last orgasm, Stud." Belle twisted onto her stomach which allowed my cock to pop free. Belle moaned sensually and lay there for a minute with her eyes closed. Dangerously, Leigh crawled over Belle's still form, retrieved something from Belle's nightstand, and handed it to me, lube. Leigh must have seen Belle pull it out and lube up the vibrator before shoving it in. Belle wasn't a total sadist. I slipped beside Willa who kept drinking me in with her eyes. "Where do you think you are going with that?" she said. Willa remained on her stomach, her ass proudly pointing up and proffered. "Would you like to try anal?" I winked. "I'm sure if you try it, you'll like it." "This won't make me your Old Lady," Willa teased back. "I'll try it. Let's see what you've got." "I only want to make you happy," I breathed into her ear. Willa shivered in anticipation. I brushed her hair to the far side of her head then kissed the top of her neck. Willa began to murmur pleasurably as I trailed butterfly kisses down her spine to her tailbone. A single finger stroked farther down to her cunt and down to her pubic mound. Willa was only lightly shaved, keeping her bush full. The return trip lingered around her anus, pushing slightly and making Willa moan. She opened her legs farther and farther apart as I continued to rub her gently. With my free hand, I opened the tube of lubricant and let it pour down her ass cheeks. I teased her sphincter twice but abandoned it to rub the thick liquid all over her cunt and perineum. Recall that Willa was going through a long, dry spell -- being an undercover officer in an outlaw biker gang, so she was bursting at the seams for sexual contact. "Damn it, Zane," she pleaded. "Willa, you are a freak," Belle chuckled. "Watching him work has gotten me so horny," Leigh whined. I ignored the peanut gallery; I was dripping oil on my three middle fingers, pushing my forefinger against Willa's sphincter. Willa must have really liked her experiences with anal sex because she relaxed her sphincter on contact and let me in. Man, her asshole felt hot compared to the slight chill of the room. My finger corkscrewed past the second knuckle when Willa let out another heartfelt moan. I pushed in a little farther while resuming my kisses on her back. Inside a minute, Leigh had sidled up to Willa and me. Belle had propped herself up with her pillow on the headboard but was studying the three of us intently. "You are acting like you've never seen a three-way before," I commented to Belle. "Not from the outside looking in," Belle shrugged. I had no immediate comeback to that. Saying something like 'maybe next time,' or 'enjoy the show' felt inappropriate. I devoted my attentions to Willa once more instead. Speaking of Willa, she was now relaxed enough for me to stick my ring finger into her anus. I noticed Leigh getting terribly interested in Willa's arousal. "Willa, rise up. Push up off the mattress for me, Babe," I coaxed Willa. She looked back at me, smiled lustfully, and began raising her ass. A few more twist and turns with my fingers and Willa was up on all fours, head down, and her face screened from view by her long, black hair. I was about to encourage Leigh but she was already slipping under Willa and putting her lips to Willa's closest tit. Willa's grunt rose over the sound of Leigh's suckling noise. I had to move completely to Willa's rear to allow Leigh more room to maneuver beneath Willa. Leigh's right hand quickly sought out Willa's cunt while her left began caressing Willa's right breast. I had to admire Leigh's enthusiasm as well as her willingness to not hold Belle's rough treatment against Willa. Belle began to rub her cunny as she watched us play. I also caught Willa shake her head ecstatically when I wormed my third finger into her butthole. "Someone's all excited," Leigh giggled, as she lifted up her fingers that had been in Willa's cunt for me to inspect. They weren't just slick; they dripped with her juices. Finally, Willa had enough. "Enough foreplay, Zane," she gasped. "Put that big cock in me. Stick it to me now." "Ask and you shall receive," I replied. With one hand on her hip and the other one on my rod I placed my throbbing cockhead against her mildly gaping sphincter. I could literally feel the breath slowly exhale from Willa's body as my cock first slipped inside her anal cavity. "Zane, Zane, Zane," she exulted softly as I inched my way inside her rectum. I had been wrong all this time; I had thought I'd never find someone who liked anal sex as much as Barbie Lynn, but here she was. She was tight, hot, and damp. By the snug fit I could tell she had abstained for some time but her reactions were pure pleasure, to me and her. I could also feel Leigh's fingers vibrating rapidly within Willa's cunt as well as her vaginal muscles squeezing them back. I let my penis sit there for a moment before withdrawing all but the head. I repeated this three times, with Willa moaning louder each time I thrust my deepest. "Hammer her," Belle demanded. "Her ass, her rules," I chastised the head Warlord Babe. "Hammer me, Zane," Willa virtually screamed. O-kay then, a hammering I will go. I plunged in without mercy. The first thrust nearly toppled her over but on the second one, I held her hips tightly and she pushed back to meet my attack. The loud smacking of skin began to echo throughout the room. "Don't, stop, un, til, you, fill, me, up," Willa gasped between lighting swift penetrations. I felt like my hips were moving in a blur. Willa's whole body was a mass of spasms beneath me. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Willa gasped, then she squealed. Yes, squealed like a little school girl. I didn't relent, though. She had told me to keep going, so 'hi-ho, hi-ho, it was off to fuck I go'. I caught sight of an exhausted Willa turning her head sideways and mouthing something to Belle through her mass of hair. Belle tilted her head, then shook it in the negative. "No, you can't keep him," she explained to Willa but for my benefit. "Too many people know he's here. Wait until you get Zane alone before you take him." "Hey! That's our line," Leigh spoke up indignantly. "Kappa Sig property." "You had better put those lips back to work on Willa before I put this vibrator back to work on you," Belle threatened. Leigh huffed, then went back to lip-smacking Willa's tit. "Shit, shit, shit," then a squeal from Willa once more. Damn, that had been a fast one. After that, Willa went down to her elbows, smothering Leigh with her tit. Leigh responded by going hog-wild on the whole breast biting and chewing on the whole damn thing. "Jesus Christ!" Willa howled, followed quickly by the loudest squeal of them all. Her body contractions dissipated what remained of my self-control. I began ejaculating, grinding my hips hard into her ass and plunging to the farthest depths yet. Willa collapsed in a state of perpetual groaning. Belle was kind enough to pull Leigh free before I collapsed on Willa. I barely had the strength to prop myself up on my elbows so as not to crush Willa beneath me. "Willa," Belle mused, "you really are full of surprises." If only she knew, or maybe it was better that she didn't know. It took a physically devastated Willa several seconds to reply. "You aren't going to give me shit about this in front of the other girls, are you?" she asked. Willa was a probationary Warlord so her reputation was incredibly vulnerable. "Yeah; let me see," Belle ticked off events; while massaging Leigh's half-raised leg from knee to inner thigh, "From the sounds of it he nailed Fontana Palmer thrice; before coming up here, kicking my ass, then fucking me so good all the lights came on. Then he rolled you over and plowed your ass through three orgasms, no." "They'll strap Zane down to the pool table for one hell of a weekend," Belle pointed out. "All the guys will resent him for that, so they'll bust him up and put him in the hospital where he can't perform for a month. Then the female riot ensues. I don't need that kind of hassle." "Thanks for looking out for me," I mocked. "Eh, you are almost a friend," Belle smiled. "Okay, on that note I'm going to take Leigh and leave," I began getting out of bed. Leigh had enough common sense to look to Belle for permission before climbing over Belle's legs and hopping free. "Try to keep the noise down," Belle teased as I opened the door. "I think Leigh's cunt has been abused enough for one night," I shook my head. "We are going downstairs to cuddle." "Nah-uh," Leigh said as she grabbed my hand. "Penetration, orgasm, cuddle; that's the way it's going to go." "No, wait," Leigh corrected herself. "Penetration, orgasm, orgasm, cuddle is how it's going to go." I'm sure Willa and Belle heard my groan of despair as I shut their door. "Leigh, your cunt looks much abused," I told her. "How about we not have sex tonight?" "After all I went through, please," she begged. "How about we have a sex-date later this week," I suggested. "I want to spend some time with you," Leigh pouted. "Leigh, I have Fall Break this week," I informed her. "We can have as much time as you like." "You do?" Leigh visibly perked up. "Oh, thank God," she then moaned. "I can barely walk, I'm so sore." "Do you still want to cuddle?" I asked. "I'd love to, Zane," she sighed, as she put her arm around my waist. "I want you to know that if it wasn't for Tawny, we really would keep you as our sex slave," she added lovingly. Yay me. "That's it," I snarled. "I'm going to go over there one night, tie all of you up, and butt-fuck the lot of you." "Oh, that sounds like fun," Leigh giggled. "Would we be tied up side by side so we could watch you do it to the sister next to us?" "Are you taking freak lessons from Rio?" I wondered. "Because you are starting to scare me." "Nope. Frankly, with the way she wields that strap-on, she kind of scares us," Leigh confessed. Ah, an unlooked for benefit of my Direct-to-Video lifestyle; I have provided the World with a warning label for Rio. Speaking of Rio, when we arrived at the sofa we discovered that she'd crawled up on it and was fast asleep again. I draped my blanket over her then curled up with Leigh in the quilt I had originally taken out for Rio. I lay down on my back and Leigh curled up on top of me. She started to say something to me but was overtaken by a yawn. She put her ear to my chest, yawned again then started snoring. I must have nodded off right after that because the next thing I knew Jill was shaking us awake gently. "Leigh," she inquired, "are you staying for breakfast?" "Sure, Aunt Jill," she yawned. "Let me get cleaned up and I'll help out in the kitchen." "Thank you, dear," Jill grinned. Leigh scampered off to the bathroom while Jill went to the kitchen. Rio was blissfully asleep still. I followed Jill into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while she soaked a paper towel under the faucet. "Did you sleep well last night?" I questioned. "Oh, Zane," Jill smiled serenely, "I learned to sleep through your antics several weeks ago." She dabbed my cheek, the one Belle had popped last night. It stung but I manned-up and took my mothering like a big boy. I made sure the ladies upstairs were awake before doubling back on my room to get dressed for Church. Fontana and Valarie propped themselves up and took in the show. As I was making sure my tie looked good in the mirror, I caught Fontana smacking her daughter in the forehead. "Sleep with that young man, damn it," she advised forcefully. "Subtle, Mom," Valarie groused back. "I mean, he's standing right there." "What do you think, Zane?" Fontana chuckled. "Do you mind me giving my daughter some helpful advice?" "I'm not going to step into that conversation, Fontana," I evaded, "and Val, that was a mean thing you did to Leigh. Belle was unforgiving." "She should learn to use a door like a normal person," Valarie smirked. "I am just warning you that Belle is particular about her private space," I cautioned her. "Valarie, you should clear the air with Belle," Fontana advised her daughter. "This is her home too and her territory." "I'll take care of it," Valarie yawned then shrugged. I had the feeling she wasn't taking this seriously. "Let's get some food, Mom. I still need to get dressed for Church too." Oh, Valarie didn't know the half of it, but I managed to keep Rio and her from ragging on Belle when they learned that Belle had lost a 'bet' with me and had to wear a dress to church along with the rest of them. Rio turned out to be hangover proof. Jill cooked up a wonderful breakfast and Leigh received her measure of revenge when she, Belle, and I had to go over to the Kappa Sigma house to find a dress that fit. Oh, those sorority girls were walking a thin line between cordiality and an ass-whooping because Belle wasn't in the mood to take shit from anyone. Tawny was a big help and Jersey provided the acceptable black dress for Belle to wear. Ricky provided the stockings and shoes. "The first one to say a damn thing dies," Belle glared at the assembly back at my house when she walked in the door. Jill must have missed that. When she came downstairs and saw Belle, she walked up and hugged her. "You look beautiful, Belle," Jill said while examining her. "Ah, thanks, Jill," Belle looked around evasively. Had anyone else said or done that, we would have died. Jill received a weak smile instead. Belle ended up in Sunday school class with Jill, who introduced her as Belle Kennan -- and no one made the connection despite Belle's constant scowl. Rio bringing Belle around to the Masters clan did something to ameliorate the situation. Suddenly having the young unattached males of the church pay attention to her was something Belle found downright darkly amusing. Rio was running around, introducing Belle as her Aunt from Michigan -- very single and clearly well-connected. Rochelle Wellington was the only one to figure out the ruse and she said nothing. Once we got home, Belle couldn't wait to be shed of those clothes. I took them back to the Kappa Sigmas with my gratitude for helping out yet again. When I came back I found Belle standing alone on the back porch. "Penny for your thoughts," I said. "I really ought to punch your lights out for putting me through that," she opened up. "I fucked three of those guys in high school and they didn't even recognize me now. I was in a pretty dress, a touch of make-up, and hung around with rich friends and; BANG; suddenly I wasn't the poor, dirty tramp in their eyes anymore." "Who gives a crap what they think or remember?" I countered. "You are still the same unique you no matter how you dress." Calling Belle beautiful was pointless, true but pointless, because she would have read that as me trying to get back into her pants. "You've never wanted for anything in your life," she mused. "What the fuck?" I rounded on her. "Bitch, for two years I only got to take showers when it rained; forget having any deodorant, and for amusement we played tag with pythons because we only had electricity when someone was pedaling the bicycle." She rounded on me with an angry rebuttal but immediately burst out laughing. "Yeah," she snickered, "and I finally got it out of Jill what a bad little monkey you were too. She told me you had 30 girlfriends and would screw around behind Tim's back all the time. You were a slut too." "Where? Belle, look around you," I grinned. "I am still a slut and proud of it." "Fuck you," she smiled. "Here I was getting worked up into a true fury and you come along and cheer me up." "That's what friends are for," I quipped. "I should have shoved Rio's head down that toilet," Belle teased. "You really complicate my life. Let's go in and grab a bite before we get all mushy." That First Time Fontana wasn't leaving until the morning so Valarie decided to spend another night at my place. I didn't want another night on the sofa so I opted for Rio and me to crash out in my dorm for the night. Vivian would be gone for the week; I hoped she would be spending quality time with her boyfriend Thomas. Barbie Lynn would be around once she saw her family off, but Opal, Brandi, and Paige, plus Christina and company, were gone for the week. They were all due back Saturday afternoon. The dark lining to this silver cloud was that both Paige and Heaven were; 'needy', and that didn't bode well for my Saturday night upon their return. That left us with twelve other girls on my floor tonight, one of which was Iona. She had decided that her time was better spent keeping Rio and me in line than being bored out of her skull back in her hometown. I was sure the fact that we would have a good deal of unobstructed time together had nothing to do with it. Iona was cuddled up with me on my right side on the large sofa closest to my bedroom screens. On my left, Rio was slouched down, channel surfing. She never stayed on any program long enough to see if it was any good. She was bored and angry. I was peripherally aware of someone activating the door and coming up but I wasn't paying too much attention until I noticed someone standing there and looking around for somebody. It was Mercy. I could hardly believe it. Our eyes met and she shrugged in confusion. She couldn't see Rio because my buddy's head was below the top of the back of the sofa. I surreptitiously moved my left arm over the top and then pointed down to where she was. Mercy's eyes lit up and she skipped on over, her bouncing proving to me she was braless. Rio was in such a foul mood, she didn't notice, so Mercy began leaning over until her shadow interfered with the suspended lighting. Finally, Rio rotated her face up to see what the problem was and looked right into Mercy's eyes. "Hey, you," Rio sounded remarkably nonchalant. "Hello, Rio," Mercy grinned hopefully. "I convinced my parents that I had to stay." "That's nice," Rio shrugged. Considering all the hell Rio had put me through during Homecoming and this weekend about Mercy being gone, I wanted to start punching her. "I wore my collar all weekend," she indicated the collar Rio (me, really) got her that had the school colors but Rio's initials on it. "I expressly forbid you from doing anything that might tip your parents off," Rio shook her head. "Simple fucking instructions and you manage to screw that up," she sighed. "I'm going to have to spank that kitty, aren't I?" Mercy's smile grew absolutely wanton. "I bet you are not wearing underwear, you tramp," Rio looked put out. "I seem to have lost them on the way over here," Mercy beamed. "Really? 'I lost them' is the best you can come up with? Give me some nipple-age, damn it," Rio insisted. Mercy bent over farther while Rio unbuttoned Mercy's shirt. "Remember, I'm only biting and sucking on these bad babies because you've been naughty, not because I enjoy it," Rio informed Mercy as she wiggled up to meet those naked breasts half way. "Okay," Mercy sighed happily as the first dangling breast went into Rio's mouth and her lips sucked the nipple in so her tongue could abuse it. Rio alternated between Mercy's tits, slurping and nibbling but not really biting down, as promised. She also reached up and grabbed her lover's shoulders, pulling her farther and farther. I was sure Mercy's feet had come off the ground. I would have looked but Iona took that moment to begin massaging my thigh. I looked to her; she was looking over at Rio and Mercy when Mercy started tumbling head first onto the sofa. Rio rolled Mercy onto her back, her skirt bunching up around her waist to reveal her baby-smooth cunt. "You are my bitch, Bitch," Rio growled as she pressed down on Mercy and tried to kiss her. "No, no," Mercy giggled as she kicked her heels, shook her head from side to side in an effort to avoid the kiss. "Please, let me go. I don't want to be kissed, or licked, or spanked, or have my body abused all week long. No, that would be horrible. Please, please, please, release me. I'll be good. I won't tell a soul about the terrible things you have planned for me." Rio hovered there, clearly in shock. "Why you rebellious little slut," Rio gasped. "Oh, I'm going to ream your ass for that little outburst." "Eeep!" Mercy squeaked. "Move that butt to the boudoir, you skanky whore," Rio pulled Mercy off the sofa, then spanked her bottom. Mercy looked over her shoulder fearfully and hurried that way with Rio in hot pursuit. Iona stood up, pulled on my arm and led my gaze to their retreating forms. "You want to join them?" I questioned. "I want to watch," Iona clarified. "They are so much in love; it is a beautiful thing to witness." "That it is," I agreed as I stood up as well. I led her toward my bedroom, Iona squeezing my hand tightly. "Also, getting naked under the covers with you has its own appeal," Iona gave me a cute, hopeful look. "What makes you think I'll get naked?" I teased. "Well, Zane, you are my friend, and you're easy," she teased right back. Ouch! "I prefer easily accessible, thank you very much," I stated indignantly. "Have you been taking etiquette lessons from Rio?" "Zane," Iona pouted. "That was unfair. I'd never abuse you the way Rio does, or Barbie Lynn, or Paige, or Heaven." As we rounded the last turn in the Chinese screen maze that separated my sleeping quarters from the rest of the floor, Rio was pushing Mercy face-first onto her (Rio's) side of the bed. Rio squatted behind Mercy. Mercy's torso was on the bed but her legs were still splayed over the edge. Rio probed forward, took a lick of that cunt, then another, before spanking Mercy's right cheek. "Has anybody else been using what is mine?" Rio inquired threateningly. Mercy shook her head violently in the negative. "Are you sure?" Rio persisted. "You are pretty clueless. Someone might have sexed you up while telling you they were doing your taxes, or something stupid like that. Did you let someone do your taxes?" Again Mercy shook her head 'no'. "Well ,  I don't trust you," Rio mused. "Zane, come over here." By this time, I was naked, I take off my clothes really fast because I hang around with some impatient women, and Iona was down to her socks and panties. "Sure," I responded. I walked around the bed until I was looking over Rio's shoulder. "Does this cunt and asshole look used to you?" Rio asked me. I reached out and with my forefinger, rubbed along Mercy's slit, starting with her clit. It was still a small nub but a few circles by my finger brought her out to play. Mercy moaned, wiggling her hips as she did. I scooped up from there, dipping between her labia until her fluids coated my fingers. I brought the finger up for a taste. "Yum," I grinned at Rio, who double-pumped her eyebrows and smiled like the madwoman she was. I stuck my finger back in Mercy's cunt to get it nice and wet again, causing Mercy to moan repeatedly. This time, I placed my finger against her anus. I rubbed it around but didn't try to press it in. The moment Mercy decided I wasn't going to give it to her, she thrust back, trying to drive my probing digit inside of her anyway. Rio smacked Mercy's ass to make her stop. "No, you don't, Wench," Rio threatened. "Rio, your baby-girl is pristine, she's nice and tight," I informed my buddy. "Thanks, Zane," Rio snickered. "I can never tell with this slut, she's always so horny. Or maybe I'm always so horny for her, I get those confused." "How about option three: you both are hot, horny babes addicted to each other's bodies?" I offered. "I really don't care what Mercy feels," Rio lied. "She's only serves as a vessel for my lusts. Don't you exist to be solely a receptacle for my lusts, Slut-Bunny?" Mercy slid down the bed until her knees touched the ground. She turned around to the less than amused Rio, waddled up to her lover and wrapped her arms around Rio's waist, hugging her tight. "Yes, yes, yes," Mercy murmured contentedly. "What the, listen, you sk- --" Rio started out angrily. She never finished calling Mercy a 'skank'. She hesitantly, then gently, ran her fingers through Mercy's hair. "I missed you so much, I was going nuts without you; just ask Zane," Rio gave her heartfelt confession. "Rio," Mercy looked up as Rio petted her head, "I've given this a lot of thought and I want you to be my first, tonight, right now," Mercy pleaded. Rio's eyes shot a panicked look in my direction. 'You can handle this,' I mouthed my assurance to my Best Buddy. Rio returned her gaze to Mercy and tilted her lover's head up until their eyes met. "You know there is no coming back from this," Rio stated. Mercy nodded. "This will make you mine forever," Rio said next. Mercy nodded with greater vigor. "You know I am a complete fucking train-wreck and am more likely to ruin your whole damn life than make you happy." "I am yours and you are mine," Mercy whispered, mimicking the tattoo Rio had placed on Mercy's back. "I can't do this," Rio stroked Mercy's cheek. Mercy looked devastated. "We are both wearing clothes, how can we properly make love if we are both still wearing clothes?" Mercy gawked, then shoved her face into Rio's stomach and bit down, hard, it appeared. "Ow, Bitch!" Rio screamed. "That hurt." "Rio, you nearly scared me to death." Mercy sounded so pitiful as she looked back up at Rio. I really had no idea how Rio's twisted, crazy mind would take that. For a second, I thought she'd explode, Rio didn't take pain like a rational person. "I apologize, Love. I have no excuse," Rio responded softly. She even used the 'L' word. "Really?" Mercy whispered. Rio nodded. "Will you do me one favor?" "Okay," Rio replied cautiously. "Please never apologize to me again, my Love," Mercy pleaded. "It scares me nearly as much as you being mean to me a moment ago." Rio studied Mercy for a few seconds. "Did you use the 'L' word?" Rio glared at Mercy. Mercy's eyes grew wide; she then buried her face back into Rio's stomach and began kissing away. "No, you don't, Wench. I will not be mollified by your sloppy, wet kisses. Strip your ass down and get into bed. Mom is going to go primeval on every inch of your smoking hot Temple of Babylon." Mercy smiled, spun around, and quick-stepped as fast as she could back to the bed while still on her knees. Rio flashed me a look that spoke of a happiness I had never seen in her before. She was slipping out of her skirt as she hopped her way to her dresser, undoubtedly to get some toys. As for me, I crawled past Mercy and slipped under the covers held open by Iona. "Should we leave?" Iona whispered to me. "Mercy is somewhat of an exhibitionist and I doubt Rio cares," I answered quietly. "In that case, let me get close to Mercy in case she needs some comforting," Iona told me under her breath. Before I could reason that out, she snuck her naked, tight little body over mine and slid under the covers to be close to Mercy. Iona reached out a hand tentatively toward Mercy. Mercy regarded it, gave Iona a warm smile, and placed her fingers in Iona's palm. Rio affixed her modest-sized strap-on and lubed it up before walking over to Mercy. Her lover seemed entranced with the way the false phallus bobbed about as it approached her. Rio threw back the blanket roughly so she could gaze down at Mercy's beautiful naked form. Instinctively, Mercy began to move her knees up to her chest. "What's that?" Rio pointed to Mercy's hand being held by Iona. Mercy started to withdraw it when, "Did I tell you to move it?" Mercy stopped. "Put that hand back and put those legs down, you insipid cow." Down came Mercy's legs with a muffled thud. "Now I'm going to fuck you like I own you," Rio growled. "You do own me," Mercy chirped. "I'm yours." "Are you ready for me to pound that cunt?" Rio glared. "Yes," Mercy moaned softly. "Well, tough," Rio smirked. "You don't tell me what to do. I'm going to do this at my own pace, damn it." She sidled down to the foot of the bed while still facing Mercy. With delicate ease, Rio lowered her lips to Mercy's right big toe, kissed it then began sucking on it. Mercy had raised her chin to her chest so she could meet Rio's steady gaze. As Rio began playing with her toes, Mercy shivered and groaned. When Rio switched to the left foot, Mercy whimpered. "Please, Rio," she moaned. "Hush, you," Rio mumbled around the current toe she was sucking on. "You are my plaything and I'll do what I want with you." Mercy's head fell back on the pillow as she clutched Iona's hand tightly. Iona seemed totally taken with events. She had rolled on her side so I cuddled behind her, my cock pressing against the small of her back, and began kissing her shoulder. Iona pushed back into me and wiggled her ass against my thighs. She also reached back, took my free hand in her own then placed them together on her stomach. She matched me as I traced small circles over her torso. "I hope I find someone who makes me that happy," Iona murmured. "You'll find someone worthy of you, Iona," I replied quietly. She tilted her head to give me better access to her neck. "I believe I will, Zane," Iona purred. "Now I know what to look for." Rio was taking her sweet time with Mercy, torturing the poor girl with lust. Iona actually scooted over and gave Mercy a quick peck on the cheek to comfort her. She was back in my arms before Mercy could decide to take shelter in Iona's innocent sexuality. This was Rio and Mercy's moment and we knew she shouldn't forget that. When Rio got to the knees, she pressed Mercy's legs farther apart and rotated the hips so she could access the back of Mercy's knees. She was running the tip of her tongue along the inner joint, driving Mercy nuts. The girl was humping her crotch up in the air and began pinching her right nipple. "None of that, you cougar-wannabe," Rio snapped. "You can't toy with my playground. It's mine." Mercy's face scrunched up in frustration as a single tear escaped her left eye. Mercy's free right arm began to flail about as Rio reluctantly stopped teasing the knees and began nibbling her way up Mercy's thigh. Iona felt the sympathetic energy and began massaging her left breast. "Please don't," she gulped as I moved my hand to her right breast. "I'll lose it and this should be their time, not mine." "Yes, Mistress Iona," I teased quietly. "Whatever you desire." Iona pummeled me with her ass against my thighs. "Behave," she sighed. Rio kept pushing Mercy's legs to the side until she was face (and lips) to Mercy's smooth cunt, letting the breath from her nostrils tickle the surface. "Something's been drooling, all," was all Rio got out before Mercy exploded into orgasm. "MotherfuckingChristGoddamn!" Mercy howled. Her whole body shook like an epileptic seizure had taken over. "Cunt-muncher," Rio sputtered. "Did you just squirt in my face?" Mercy was in no shape for an immediate reply. I didn't help matters when I snickered at Rio as her face rose above Mercy's thighs. Syrupy vaginal fluid was dripping off her nose and chin. Rio glared at me. I had a sinking feeling she was about to exile me from my room. "I'm, I'm sorry," Mercy groaned. "I was thinking weak, pathetic, or nasty," Rio grumbled. She began stalking up Mercy's body on all fours until she was face-to-face with her toy. "Was that the extent of your apology?" Mercy propped herself up feebly and began to lick Rio's face clean. "If I'm not satisfied, no fucking for you tonight," Rio taunted her. That spurred Mercy on. She was sucking Rio's eyelids and eyebrows, licking her cheeks, jaw and neck as if her life depended on it. Mercy ended up trying to French kiss Rio but she was having none of that. "Do you think I've got some of your cunt juice hiding under my tongue?" Rio quizzed her. Mercy gave a short, energetic nod. Rio cracked a smile and her lips and Mercy dove up to literally tongue-fuck Rio's mouth until she was thoroughly satisfied she'd gotten every drop. "No, you don't," Rio chastised her. "I know what you are doing and it is not going to work. I'm going to spank that sopping wet kitty and there's nothing you can do to distract me." "Have mercy," Mercy pleaded convincingly. "Oh, I am going to have Mercy again and again and again," Rio mocked her lover. Rio retreated down Mercy until her false cock slipped past her pubic mound. Rio used her right hand to guide the dildo up and down between her labia. The response was tiny simpering noises from Mercy. When Rio let the tip enter her cunt, Mercy became very still. "Relax, Babe," Rio urged her gently. "It will make it less uncomfortable." Rio avoided using the word pain. "Deep breaths, Babe," Rio soothed her. "Think about how much pleasure you feel when I shove this cock up your ass. It will be the same way with your cunt, but better." I could tell Mercy was really trying and that was the problem; she was trying too hard. Rio had an answer for that though. "I've got a better idea," Rio grinned wickedly. She pulled out of Mercy and waggled her phallus at her mate. "I'm not going to do all the damn work, you perverted minx. Hike up those legs and spread them wide, none of this folding at the knees crap. I'm going to mount you like John Smith ambushed Pocahontas, leaving you stupefied and wondering who the fuck just hammered you through the New World." "I'm going to fuck you harder than the Pilgrims screwed over the Wampanoag, you are going to ride my cock 'til dawn." I image the rest of us clearly showed our amazement that Rio knew so much, well, of anything, much less American History. "What the fuck?" Rio took in our gawking. "I read, things, occasionally. Don't look so shocked." "Iona," Rio added, as she went back to looking down on her woman, "get my camera phone. I want to record this moment for posterity." "Zane?" Iona whispered to me. She didn't want to put either Rio or Mercy at risk of exposure. "Its fine," I petted her shoulder. "You can make sure the file is secure." "I'm okay with it," Mercy assured Iona. "I trust Rio." "Be quiet, Pumpkin," Rio sneered. "This is going up on YouTube fifteen minutes after we are done. I'm going to title it: Lush Virgin Innocent plundered by Psycho Mistress." I groaned as Iona slipped off the bed to get the phone. "What; not descriptive enough?" "Plunder me! Plunder me!" Mercy meeped. Rio slapped both of Mercy's nipples. "Hush, you," Rio glared at Mercy. "The only thing I want coming out of that mouth had better be your tongue in my cunt." Iona walked up and handed the phone to Rio. "You keep it, Iona," Rio told her. "You'll get a girl's point of view. With Zane, it will be nothing but tits and ass." We both knew that wouldn't be the case, most likely wouldn't be the case. Iona returned to my side but was sitting up on her knees. She looked at the image in the phone and edged forward. I moved in behind her so that my stomach was against her buttocks. I remained reclining. Iona reached out and took Mercy's hand once more. "I'm ready," Iona said softly. Mercy paled, biting her lip over her dual anxieties. Rio had let slip a serious yet compassionate facial expression which reaffirmed that her Mistress was about to take her. The other was the originally unlooked for trait of Mercy the Exhibitionist. Oh, it terrified her that her sexuality would be discovered, but that thrill only made her actions that much more vibrant and alive. Rio positioned her fake phallus at the gateway to Mercy's virginity again. She leaned over Mercy, her arms resting on her fists to either side of Mercy's breasts, but her lady was taller and Rio couldn't quite span the gap between their faces. "Get up here and kiss me, Mercy," Rio said, choked with emotion. "Kiss me one more time as my fuck toy. Next time we kiss, you'll be my girlfriend." Mercy used her right elbow to prop herself up until her lips met with Rio's. "Are you going to own me, use me, and protect me forever and ever?" Mercy pleaded. "Baby-cakes, I own you for all time, I am never going to become tired of using you, and if anyone except me lays a finger on you, I'll wipe out their whole fucking family," Rio recited her twisted version of a marital vow with the tenderness of a child addressing a kitten. "Thank you for choosing me," Mercy fought back tears. The kiss she gave Rio was long, passionate, and steeped in familiarity. Mercy was still enraptured with the declaration and kiss when Rio pushed forward. Mercy's hymen tore, completing her evolution from the blindly obedient school girl that had come to my room as one of the Chancellor's enforcers so few weeks ago into the woman who dared to experiment with her deepest erotic desires. Mercy's eyes welled up with tears due to the pain. She trembled and her lips quivered. Rio didn't relent despite her lover's pain. She drove the dildo in relentlessly to the hilt. She ground the strap-on's base against Mercy's clit, withdrew a half inch, then slammed down hard. At the same time, she moved her left hand around to the back of Mercy's head, grabbed a handful of hair and forced Mercy into another kiss. "What are you, my little Orgasmic Bombshell?" Rio demanded. "I'm your girlfriend," Mercy sobbed through the renewing pain. "You don't sound very convinced," Rio insisted. "Am I going to have to put a ring on that clit?" she bumped Mercy's clit again, causing Mercy to gulp and whimper. "Not enough to teach your confused, simple mind who the boss is? Nipple rings it is, then," Rio taunted with all apparent seriousness. "You still don't get it?" Mercy shook her head, tears starting to seep down her cheeks as Rio kept fucking her. "Nose ring?" That suggestion seemed to scare the girl, probably because hiding such a piercing would be difficult. "Oh, sigh," Rio exaggerated. "I guess nothing but putting a ring on that finger will beat the point home." Mercy's eyes grew wide and her mouth gaped open. "Of course, that makes me your husband and Master, none of this wife-shit for me. You'll have to do double duty as wife and sexual gratification machine, available for sex on demand." "Okay," Mercy wept joyously. "I am so annoyed with you right now, Annoyer." Annoy equals love; that pretty much symbolized those two. "Mercy, if you fail me this time, I'm going to clone fifty of me and fuck you until you explode," Rio threated. Damn, Rio was so often unhinged from reality and common sense. I figured the only reason Mercy didn't rebel right then and there was that she knew Rio couldn't really clone herself. Otherwise, death by multiple orgasm was exactly how Mercy would chose to exit her mortal coil, and Rio knew it. She also knew she was hammering Mercy into another orgasm quickly. "Christ-fuck-shit-hell!" Mercy screamed. Her legs vibrated then fell to either side of Rio. She wept, screamed, and convulsed on the bed but her Mistress held her firm by the hips and head. When Mercy finally collapsed, boneless from the exertion, Rio gently withdrew her cock from Mercy's cunt and settled on Mercy's right side, studying her intently. Mercy's chest rose in ragged pulses for over a minute. Her first act was to release Iona's hand and carefully place it on her labia, dabbed it gently, then drew the results up to her face. Vaginal fluid mixed with a trace of blood was what she saw. Mercy's smile returned then. She rolled facing Rio and curled submissively into Rio's body, her head resting between Rio's breasts. The four of us were quiet for some time. It was Mercy who broke the silence. "I'm okay," she murmured into Rio's chest. It took Rio nearly half a minute to respond. "You talk too much," Rio whispered to Mercy as she stroked her hair. "I think you can find something better to do with that mouth, so get to it." Mercy began suckling. "Good girl." By FinalStand for Literotica.

Playback (A Novel) — Carla Malden — 9781644284872 — Hardcover — 216 pages — Rare Bird Books — Published August 12, 2025 — $28 — ebook versions available at lower prices Time travel fiction is among my favorite literary genres. I’ve been reading time travel novels avidly since I was a kid. I am sure […] The post Carla Malden: Playback (a novel) first appeared on WritersCast.

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 29 Barbie Lynn s Genetics In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.   Nymphomania, while enticing to consider, is still utter madness when experienced. "Why Mr. Zane, my Barbie Lynn has told us so many wonderful things about you," she sounded so sugary that the honeyed words flowed off her tongue in a manner that was barely coherent. Also, her eyes flickered to the shower where I'd nailed Barbie Lynn repeatedly for forty minutes not all that long ago. Next to me Thomas grunted something that sounded like 'hello'. "I'm sure she's exaggerated to my betterment," I pulled that banter out of my tush, my brain was suffering catastrophic blood loss. "I can't wait to live in this dorm next year," Laramie came across with a nearly a molasses like drawl as well. "Zane, will you let me use this room next year?" "Dude! This is your room?" Jefferson perked up. "Mom, I have to come here next year!" "Um, yes Laramie, I'm going to hold this room open to every girl, and perhaps guy, in the dorm. I don't need much space," I said, "so keep out of the way of housekeeping and we are good. Also, you are immune from Handmaiden's Duty while here." "Oh, I was thinking about the game stations, satellite dishes and cable hook-ups," Jefferson added. Jefferson Davis, that name rang a bell. "Come on now Honey, a man can't go to a women's," Savannah let that sentence die unfinished. For me, it was keep the lone male status quo; or to get a good night's sleep'. "Mrs. Masters, I offer a thin hope for your son; if your daughter could line up some upstanding seniors and juniors, he might slip in under the Zane Exception to the enrollment policy," I told her. "You'd do that for Jeff?" Savannah took off her sunglasses and bit one of its arms. "Ma'am, I'd wrestle an alligator blindfolded for your daughter. I would certainly put in a good word for her brother," I smiled. I had no idea how tough alligators could be but I knew about crocodiles and those were some mean mothers in their own right. Still, faced with alligator wrestling or no anal-sex with Barbie Lynn, I was getting a belt, handbag and new shoes, damn it. The odds of getting Jeff in were long, Victoria barely suffered Heaven being around, and it would take an act of the Southern Baptist Convention to bring in a male to replace me when I was gone. "It would give your Father another option for Jefferson if you could do this Barbie Lynn," Savannah politely replied. "That would be great," the kid rejoiced. Yes, he was a fully functioning teenage male. "Zane can move mountains when he sets his mind to it," Barbie Lynn winked at me. Thomas saw it but was caught off-guard. "Let me show you my bedroom," Barbie offered her kin. They turned and the women sashayed away while Jeff had an almost run-in with Raven and 'company'. Each woman shot a look over their shoulder and smiled at me at some point along their journey which boded trouble. "I apologize, Zane," Thomas mumbled. "I thought, deep down, you were weak for submitting to your lusts. Now, I don't, I don't think that anymore." "Don't sweat it," I smiled. "It is only another day for me ending in y." "And don't you be forgetting about me, and how tough it has been resisting Zane," Vivian warned the man she was hoping to marry. "A wife should obey her husband," he started, "and a husband should know when to shut up." Lunch and what comes after I dropped Ms. Reveal's lunch off with just enough sassiness to make her smile and believe that our bad episode was behind us. She sent me to the Vice Chancellor's office a minute later, and while Doctor Victoria Scarlett was conversing over the phone, I felt comfortable to set her meal up in front of her and mine across her desk. Victoria only had this canned ice tea in her mini-frig so I swiped two and set one before her and opened mine. I wasn't exactly sure what it was, it was pretending to be Southern Ice Tea and I pretended to like it. The best thing I could say about it was it was cold. This was our fourth "working" lunch where she would insidiously fill my head with her philosophy and I'd causally remind her that women ran this government, not me; I was a figurehead. "What are you doing for New Year's Eve?" she inquired as she daintily cleaned off some crouton crumbs on her cheek. Her look was very intense. I wasn't getting 'quite' sexual signs from her but something, somehow this was personal. That could only mean one thing. "I'm spending it with Ms. Rio Talen but no set location has been chosen," I replied. "Oh," she paused then, "There is a Science Fiction convention in Seattle that runs from December 29th to through the 1st. My friends and I are attending and Hical asked about you." "Deal but we have to fit Rio in," I agreed. "I can send some Universe, TV and movie series and well as costuming information for her to look over," Victoria agreed tentatively. "No need, she's a Klingon, a small craft captain whose Father betrayed the Empire and whose survival is a stain on her honor," I told her. "With that barely constrained fury, she's a natural. You teach her how to use that bat-a-rang and," "Batleth," Victoria interjected. "Wicked-curved-bladey thing," I continued, "and you'll see. Oh, I'll need an Orion Slave Girl outfit and some green body paint for Mercy and all of her stuff by October 30th, cost is not an object." "I'll call my outfitter when you leave and I must say you are taking this rather well," Doctor Scarlet noted. "Why? I had a blast in your office that time," I admitted. "As long as I'm not crawling in, screaming fur-balls, I'm okay. I'll be a human Starfleet Doctor Xeno-biologist who has done surgery on multiple species. A "Doctors Without Borders" kind of guy. I'll get Cordelia to build me an actual tricorder, trust me." We ate, she asked for my sizes, I gave her Rio's and Mercy's sizes; at the Con we were all 'Next Gen' except Mercy who would be Old School for Halloween. She offered me a chance to be a Borg but since they all looked to be in desperate need of a sun tan, I declined. All in all, it barely took twenty minutes. "You did a very good job as Mediator this morning," the Vice Chancellor added as I made to leave. "It is not so rough," I grinned. "WWKSD?" "Wha, oh," she smiled warmly. "What would King Solomon do, clever." "Hell, the Bible has a whole book called Judges. This shit ain't so hard," I laughed as I breezed out the door. Ms. Reveal was waiting, as was Heaven. Heaven had to exert some will to not kiss me on the spot. Christina had lectured us on P D A, public displays of affection, during Homecoming. The more people who knew about us, the more the outcry and the stronger Chancellor's radical decision to keep Heaven on as part as the student body, would be challenged. As it was, our hands would casually brush one another until we got inside my dorm where I chased Heaven up the stairs, pinching her ass every time I caught up. After entering my code, I gauged Heaven's mood deciding we needed some quiet time; there would be too much traffic over most of the floor, and Heaven being too vocal, to get away with sex; and cuddling would be fine anyway. I caught sight of Rio with one of my Marksmanship team mates, Genesis. "Hey Zane," Genesis stood up. She was a weird one, going from borderline contempt to grudging respect over the last two weeks. If I didn't know the impossibilities, I'd think she had a boyfriend. "Hope wants everyone at the Amory for an equipment check at seven. We leave at 8:15." Heaven held my hand tightly. "Boudoir occopodo," Rio snickered as Genesis made her exit. Heaven's grip nearly crushed my hand, ouch. "Babe," I whispered to Heaven, "let me check this out." I disentangled myself and went for the wall of screens that separated my bedroom area from the rest of the floor. "Get some popcorn and get ready to sit a spell," Rio joked to Heaven who grumbled. I went around to see who, or whom, were using my room. Inside was not what I expected. Savannah Belafonte Masters had taken off her top (which was peach) and was rummaging with growing frustration through Barbie Lynn's bra drawer. I saw some grape juice splashed on her beige skirt. She saw me, pulled up her shirt to cover her bra-covered assets while looking a bit fearful and upset. "What are you doing in here?" she asked softly. "It is my bedroom," I replied. "What are you doing in my bedroom?" "But, but Barbie Lynn's stuff is in here," she gasped. "That would because it is her room too, we sleep together," I answered. That slowed her up for a second. "Can I help you with something?" "I, I, I spilled juice on my shirt," she began. "And your skirt," I pointed out." "Oh no," she choked back a sob. "What am I going to do? I'm a mess and none of Barbie Lynn's bras, shirts, or skirts are going to fit me." I mused over that for a second. "I've stashed some bra extensions around here somewhere and that should allow for the difference is sizes between you and Barbie," I said. "Now give me your skirt and I'll find a replacement." She hesitated so I added. "I'm not going to molest one of my best friends' mom, Savannah. Give me your skirt and I'll take care of everything." This time she did it, though I had to turn my back. I padded back out to Rio and Heaven who had just returned with the popcorn. "Rio, Heaven, I need you to break into Chancellor Bazz' residence and steal a skirt like this," I offered up Savannah's. "Hell yeah," Rio exulted. "Time for a little Breaking  Entry." "Oh, what the fuck," Heaven shrugged. "Count me in." She gave me a quick kiss and the two miscreants headed out on their nefarious mission. I went back to the bedroom and stumbled into Savannah, now with her bra off, eyeing two of Barbie Lynn's double barreled slingshots. Our eyes locked. "Right," I spun away. "Bra extensions." "Zane, do you think I'm attractive?" Barbie Lynn's Mom asked. When women say that, they can mean three things;          the truth,          the lure, or          the lie. Some women want to know if you find them attractive. Others want you to find them attractive for nefarious means. Lastly, a few woman want to be reminded that they are beautiful. Savannah was the latter. "If you are asking me if you are as good looking as Barbie Lynn, Mrs. Masters, I'll have to say no but that's because you are a lady who is fully a woman and Barbie Lynn is still leaving some of the girl behind. There is no comparison. You are both hot," I affirmed. "I don't know," she sighed. "It is with my husband, then seeing you and Barbie Lynn, in the shower, What's wrong with you and your husband, if I may intrude?" I asked. "He had an accident at work, one of his factories, and he hasn't been the same," she sniffed. "Do you love him?" I questioned. "Honestly." "Yes, yes I do," she sighed. "But he's just not there." "Do me a favor; come over and sit next to me and I promise to be as well behaved as a Montana Miner (hey, it is where my family comes from)," I said as I sat at the foot of the bed. Savannah very, very reluctantly came over and sat at my bed, but I said nothing. "Yes?" she broke down and inquired finally. "I want you to laugh," I related to her softly. "Laugh, laugh like you do with small kids." "But, I'm not sure," she began then I poked her in the ribs. "What?" So I tickled her under her arms. Savannah covered her breasts by mistake so I got some finger in and began making her giggle and squirm. "Stop it," she gasped for breath, so I rolled onto my side and tickled her other underarm until she finally flailed in surrender. "See Savannah, I'm not the bad guy," I grinned. "I'm not seducing you because I think you love Barbie Lynn's Dad and you simple need to worry a little bit less, and love yourself a little bit more." "How do I do that?" she panted. "I want you to try on some of Barbie Lynn's new clothes and see what you like, and what your husband might like," I suggested. "I'm not asking you to dress like a teenager; but not every day is Sunday school either." Oh God, I was talking clothes therapy to someone's Mother. "But," she stammered. "There is a screen right over there," I pointed out, "that you can change behind and the armoire over here has a mirror." "But I'll be parading around here, in my bra and panties," she worried. "Well, that's a bonus for me," I shrugged, "but a lady with a body like yours should be wearing bikini's with less material. Look at it that way." "Well, don't ogle, alright?" "Sure," I lied. What was I going to say? 'I'll pluck out my eyes?' After several tentative steps walking to the dresser and looking over her shoulder at me with real worry that I might find her either too attractive or not attractive enough, I gave up. I covered my eyes because they gravitated toward her backside like a plant seeking the sun. A minute later she finally spoke up. "I can't find anything that I think will fit," she said in desperation. I had the answer to that; I went up and picked out the clothes Barbie Lynn wore to the concert a few weeks back. "I can't wear this," she gasped in fright. "Barbie Lynn wore this to a social function," I assured her. "It is perfectly fine and you aren't going to leave here in it, only try it on." You see, the beauty of this pants/halter top combination was the lacing. I knew it would fit her, but she'd be showing a bit more flesh than Barbie had. She looked mortified when she stepped from behind the screens, and a little better when she saw herself in the mirror. I withheld my comment until she looked at me. "I'm dressed like a hussy," she stated sadly. "No; a hussy dresses like that when she goes to the supermarket. A wife wears that around the house to remind her husband he's a man and that she's his woman," Caveman mentality. Savanna gave her reflection a second, longer glance. This time she took in the sides, and dare I say, her ass. All her curves were smoothed out and pulled tight by the leather. "My ass looks younger," I caught her whispering to herself. "My Boobs appear like they are about to bust free," she addressed me once more. "Yes Ma'am!  Yes ma'am, they do," I smirked. "That is the whole purpose of the design of the shirt but I assure you, Barbie Lynn hasn't had one escape yet." "Oh, that's nice," she went back to looking at herself in the mirror. "Now there are some nice shirts in there, as well as some, short, skirts," I directed Savannah. She came out in the first shirt, trying to make the buttons hook but they wouldn't. I came off the bed and helped her. That is, I left most of them unbuttoned. "But they, my husband can see my bra," she worried. "Mrs. Savannah, that would be the point," I nodded. "Let him get a peek of the bra." We both heard the quiet footfalls and it couldn't be Heaven and Rio back so soon. Savannah froze and I reclined passively on the bed. "Mom, Zane?" Barbie Lynn gazed back and forth. "Baby Child," Savannah blathered. "Wow Mom," Barbie clasped her hands in approval. "The golden shirt with the plum bra is a wonderful combination for you." See, I trusted Barbie Lynn more than her Mother did. "I was trying on some clothes and, um, Zane was helping me," Savannah gulped. "Oh Mom, don't worry about it," Barbie hugged her mother, "Zane sees eight girls getting dressed every morning. He's used to it." "Oh, she trailed off. "So he's safe?" "I'd never say that," Barbie Lynn glanced back my way and licked her lips. "But he's a good friend and I think that's more important. Let's try on this next; the black leather will look good with the knee boots." It continued like this for a while. Rio and Heaven slinked back in with the now rather redundant set of conservative attire. We retreated to the head of the bead with Heaven snuggling next to me and Rio right beside her. Heaven and I shared a pillow, on our laps. "Do you think they have any idea that we're all bi-sexual," Heaven whispered as Barbie Lynn was prying Savannah into a red bustier. "Momma Mia," Rio hissed. "Those are some mounds. Big fluffy mounds." "Seriously," Heaven nudged us both, "I'm going to need a blowjob if this goes on much longer." I moved my hand behind Heaven, worked it up her skirt and up against her panties until I was giving her bunghole quite a workout. "Fine," Heaven ground out. "You can fuck me but I'm coming all over the sheets damn it." "What was that?" Savannah called out. "Do you think this is too much?" "Oh no Mrs. Masters," Heaven gulped. "If I wasn't totally into guys I would think you look, delicious." "Why thank you Ms. Vickers," Savannah smiled. "And if I wasn't totally into guys I'd have you chained to this bed and be ripping your clothes off right now," Rio added gleefully. "Oh, huh, thank you?" Savanna responded more cautiously. When Barbie Lynn, now totally torturing us, convinced her mother to wear a thong and a short skirt something had to be done. I reclined sidewise on the bed while Heaven built a pillow fort behind me and Rio dove under the covers to suck my feisty transvestite off. It was a half-assed endeavor and a minor miracle that nothing went wrong. Finally Heaven yanked my shoulder back and took a big bite out of it. I could hear Rio slurping up Heaven's cum and prayed the others couldn't. Is everything okay?" Barbie Lynn called out. "Heaven's got a muscle cramp but we are working it out," I fibbed. Second later, Rio's tussled head reappeared and she punched Heaven in the ribs. "Shit Bitch," Rio scooped up some errant semen with her finger, "Have you been holding that up all week long. You nearly choked me." "Why don't you come by every morning and we can work out an installment plan?" Heaven shot back quietly. Regrettably, Savannah noticed our, acquisitions and reluctantly put them on but I caught sight of her running her hand over some of the racier things left lying around before she and Barbie Lynn left. I had barely gotten outside with Heaven and Rio, to see if I was needed, when a squeal manifested right behind my ear and a body slammed into me, bowling me over. Paige "Lover!" Paige greeted me. "Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend Zane." Now, I was on my back, on the floor with Paige in my arms and with her skirt flapping far, far too up her ass when darkness descended on my world. It took me a moment to realize that the two Joten (Norse giants), standing behind the sofa were her parents, they were freaking huge! Her Dad alone looked like he played two simultaneous positions on an NFL team. Paige's Mother was dainty, only in comparison to her husband. Not that she's fat, oh no, this woman was simply big boned and brawny. I had to ask myself: what happened genetically? "Zane, I want you to meet my parents," Paige studied my face. "Sure," my smile wasn't too forced, "but you have to remember to give me a kiss for luck, for tomorrow's match." We rose up and my arm easily wrapped around Paige's waist. Mom and Dad seemed guarded and wary. "What game do you have tomorrow?" the Dad, Roger; finally asked. "Marksmanship Sir. I'm the spotter to the team captain, Hope Song," I smiled. "I'm Zane Braxton, by the way." I can do this. I mean, how many other girls here think they have their hooks in me? "We have the impression that you and our daughter are, romantically involved," her Mom asked me. It was the way she stated it in disbelief that astounded me and pissed me off, as if a big healthy strapping guy like me would choose their 'flawed' daughter. "Paige is an upperclassmen so mainly we hook up for the hours of hot sex," I pulled her close. "Come here, you," I turned and looked down at Paige she pushed up and kissed me deeply. "What are you doing with my daughter?" Roger rumbled. "I'm kissing my lady," I smiled at him, "What does it look like I'm doing Sir?" "I don't know what you think you are going to get out of this," he snarled. "Paige," I addressed the sultry albino who was all but humping my leg at this point, "what do I get out of your relationship?" "Hot steamy White Russian sex," she purred in a Russian accent. Yes, this side of 'poor pitiful Paige' was new to her parents. "But our daughter can't," the Mom stumbled verbally. "Oh yeah, and I'm taking Paige with me on a cross country motorcycle trip this summer," I kept grinning. "I hope you don't mind, she's our computer tech and back-up bar bouncer." Maybe the bar-bouncer bit was too much. "She'll get hurt," Roger sputtered. "Ah, I bleed more than she does and there will be a dozen of us; so if she kicks someone's ass and ends up in jail we'll be able to bail her out," I kissed Paige's forehead. "Baby, Paige," Roger muttered softly. "How about we talk about this?" "Sure thing, Daddy," Paige agreed. "Zane, I'll catch up with you before you head out for the tournament." I swatted her ass, in full view of her parents, which Paige loved. She sauntered off like a woman victorious. "You are such an idiot," Rio snickered in my ear. "That girl is a nut-bag and you are feeding her dynamite." "Speaking of feeding someone some dynamite," Heaven took my hand. "No one seems to need me at the moment," I squeezed her hand back. "Let's run for it!" and we raced for the bedroom like lovers possessed. Heaven I lay between Heaven's legs, her thighs arching up against my own. She wiggled her hips against me and her cock against stomach. I bit down at her nose but she laughed and turned her face away so I nipped her proffered neck instead. "Oh," she gasped. To show me how much she liked it, she rotated her hips, rubbing my cock around inside her. "My Honey likes?" I teased. "You know I do you bastard," she panted. "Nice, slow and hard." I withdrew my cock and then eased it back into her depths. Heaven hisses out her pleasure and with her hands on my shoulders she pulls me in tight. "God, I love you," she whispered to me. "I love the woman grinding up against me too, Heaven," I smiled to her. She hiccupped in passion then began thrusting harder up against me until I could feel her ready to erupt. I took hold of her shoulders and begun pounding her in sympathetic penetrations. "God Damn!" she seethed into my collarbone. Dampness flushed up my stomach and onto my chest to the very edge of my neck. Face to face sex really appealed to Heaven and she was really shooting off hard because of it. I slowed down; I hadn't ejaculated yet but I didn't want to wear her down while I worked up to it. "Oh no you don't," Heaven gasped. "I, I know what you want," she giggled weakly. Heaven struggled against my hold. "You don't have to," I said softly. "I want to you dummy," she kissed me. "Now let go and I'll roll over." "No, let me," I related before I leaned in for a French Kiss full of need. She gave one more surge of defiance then relaxed. Then I shifted my arm down until I reached the back of her left knee. I pushed it up until she passed my hip. Heaven was glowing with anticipation. I was folding her up and then I was going to pound her thoroughly and fully. Heaven brought up her right leg all on her own but the real gift was the way she arched her back in ecstasy when I bottomed out in her with all the muscle power I could muster. We held eye contact as I drove into her time and time again. A tear escaped her eye and scarred her cheek. "Babe?" I worried and slowed down. "I'm happy Zane," she breathed deeply. "Happy." I resumed my energy and the very essence she was lending me set me off by surprise. "Oh God," I gasped and gave her my seed. Heaven bit her lower lip as I sizzled up her rectum with my hot semen. A smile must have etched my features because Heaven became quizzical. "What are you thinking about, Lover?" she asked softly. "I think I've had the best homecoming ever," I answered. It took her a second to get it. "You can keep coming home as often as you want," Heaven licked her lips and bucked her luscious ass against my still rigid rod. Brandi Hand in hand, Heaven and I had barely exited my bedroom when Brandi came rushing up with a girl in hand. "Hey!" she beamed. "This is my sister, March; and she's coming here next year. I wanted her to meet you, Zane." How bad could this be? I squeezed Heaven's hand. "Hello March, this is Heaven Vickers, my girlfriend," I shook March's hand with my free limb. "Hey Zane," March said shyly then, "Brandi says you do things, with lots of girls here?" "See how Heaven is smiling," Brandi whispered to her sister like some conspirator. "He makes me smile just like she is." Well, I had to think, not exactly like I do with you. "Brandi, what did you tell her?" Heaven intervened. "I told her," the two giggled, "that he's magic with his fingers and tongue; and he'll do all the things, to her." "You pimped Zane out?" Heaven snickered. "It, it isn't like that," Brandi back-pedaled. "I sent her a link to his website and told her to hide it from Mom and Dad." "And Brandi says we can have sex here with you, and God won't hold it against us," March piped up. I had to go 'What the Hell?' I give out dispensations from God? He really ought to tell me these things. "I wouldn't go that far," I got out. "Oh, being with Zane is a spiritual experience," Heaven snickered. "Ten minutes ago I swear I was seeing Angels." I wanted to stomp on her toes because March seemed to be buying it. "Are you a virgin?" March whispered to Heaven. "I swear on the Bible that Zane's never penetrated my cunt," Heaven raised up her hand to God. "Did he, you know, the other way?" Brandi leaned in expectantly. "Until I cried tears of joy," Heaven teased her right back. I really wanted to stomp on Heaven's foot. "What other way?" March joined the conversation. "You know, like Barbie Lynn," Brandi giggled to her sister. Oh fuck. "Didn't it hurt?" March sounded concerned. "Oh no," Heaven stroked March's arm. "He's slow and gentle." "Okay; fun conversation!" I declared. "I see someone who wants to kill me. March, you are a beautiful young lady with an exceptional sister and I'll see you next year." I stormed deeper into my apartment only to hear. "Look at that ass go," Heaven sighed. "Yeah," Brandi murmured. "Those pants are so tight. They are hot! Cappadocia Rio was getting downright mopey when we headed for dinner. As we were going in, I spotted Cappadocia and what had to be her little brother, mother and father. I wasn't sure if she wanted to have me meet the folks so I tried to quietly move passed. "Zane," she turned and called out. I deviated my path and went over. Rio tagged along. "Hello Cappadocia, Mr. and Mrs. Davis and, um, young man," I greeted them. "Tobias," the young guy offered his hand and I shook it. "This is my good friend Rio Talon," I brought her forward. Mr. Davis stepped up and shook my hand next. His grip was stronger than needed in that alpha male style. "It is good to meet you Mr. Braxton. My little girl says you are a promising candidate on the new to the first squad," he grinned smugly. "Well, Cappy would know, she's Team Captain and I'm sure she'll be Captain next year when she'll get to decide if I stay on First Team," I tried to be nice. "So does it feel bad to be beaten up by girls?" he joked. "Well, if I ever get beaten up by a girl I'll let you know," I gave him my best steely grin. "Here I get beaten up by women, really tough women." That brought the big guy up short. "Oh well, my daughters a real fighter alright," he stammered. "I believe you, she's knocked me unconscious once, in a practice session. She laid me out cold for about a minute," I enlightened him. "Zane knocked Coach Gorman down Father," Cappy came to my defense, "and took down three men who threatened some girls once." "You girls shouldn't be leaving campus," her mother chimed in. "Mother, we go out in groups and we are just fine," Cappy insisted. "Are you responsible for this new attitude?" the Dad asked. "Sir, I'm one freshmen in a school of 900 women," I shrugged. "The fearlessness was here before I ever arrived. It will be here long after I'm gone. I belief the unofficial motto for the Karate program is 'I kick ass for the Lord'," I sort of lied. Cappy said it and she smiled slightly the hear me repeat it. "Yes," he muttered, "we want our girls to be strong in their faith for the Lord. It is good to see Cappadocia having a vibrant faith." "Oh, I've seen Cappadocia vibrant," I smirked her way. She restrained herself from hauling me off and punching me because our act of vibrancy had everything to do with sex and nothing that she wanted to tell her parents. Her dad missed it, her young brother wasn't even paying attention but her mother caught our undercurrent. A smirk creased her face as she looked the two of us over. "Cappy dear, you to practice safety when you spar, don't you?" she cautioned her daughter. "Yes Momma," Cappy gave a sly smile of her own, "I'm always careful, even when I have Zane down on the mat." "As long as you keep control of the situation," the Mother nodded. "You keep winning Girl," the Dad rejoined the conversation, "because you have one more year of playing around then you need to find a job and let God give you a husband." Cappy didn't flinch but I knew how hard she struggled for the team and having it disregarded by someone who meant so much to her. "Maybe Cappadocia can either compete on a National level or train students when she goes home," I offered. "She's real hardcore," Rio added. "No one trains as hard as she does and the other girls know it. Hell, when I first met her I thought she was some Inner City Gangsta Chick, she was such a bad ass." There was my girl Rio, the Conversation Killer. Sure, Cappy was African-American but that never came up with us. As I recalled, she came from a moderately-sized town outside Atlanta Georgia. "What?" the father darkened. "Rio," I tried to pull her away. "No," Rio growled. "Listen buddy," she poked the man in the chest. "Your daughter is an athlete and a damn fine one. If she was a he and in football you'd want him to try for the NFL so why are you treating your daughter any different?" "I don't think you know what you are saying young lady," Cappy's father stated angrily. "Maybe I should have a word or two with your father." "My father is a self-righteous self-serving asshole," Rio began before I started dragging her away, "and he knows I'd kick his ass if he treated me this way!" she finished screaming at him. "Whoa Rio," I calmed her. "The truth is only going to rub that situation raw." "Cappy deserves more than that," Rio spat. "Face it, you are channeling some Mercy into this Bro," I said. "She'll be okay and back in your arms come Sunday. Cappy is tougher than her father knows." "You hope so!" she groused. "I swear, with some of these bitches, they are perfect bright and confident then you roll a man around and out go the lights, nobody's home." "Then we'll have to find a way to set them on fire so the light never goes out," I suggested. "Face it, you are the schools premier pyromaniac." "That I am," Rio grumbled. "I'll find a way to burn this shit up." Opal "Hey you two," Opal greeted Rio and I as we started eating diner. "What's wrong, Rio?" "Plotting the end of male domination of the Western World," Rio grinned wickedly. "Is there something I need to know," Opal looked from one of us to the other as she sat at my side. "Are we mounting a rescue mission for Mercy?" "Mercy?" Rio said suspiciously. "Sure," Opal sampled her fare, "give the word and I'll get six or seven girls together for a run at her family if you need it." Rio stared at her for a second. "Why would you?" Rio asked suspiciously. "A lot of us like her since she came over to our side," Opal grinned, "and she keeps you in line, most of the time." "Just to keep things straight," Rio sneered. "I keep her in line damn it." "Oh please," Opal rolled her eyes, "one little whimper and a look from those soulful eyes and off to the bedroom you two go." "Gurrr, as long as everyone knows that she's mine," Rio was now embarrassed. "And that's why we would come to help you, Rio," Opal gobbled a quick bite. I tried not to laugh. "Zane," Rio pointed her fork at me, "if you are trying to tell me I have friends, I'll bleed you like a little bitch." "Who me?" I grinned. "Perish the thought that anyone likes you or considers you 'user-friendly'." "I'm the soul of friendliness, fuck you," she snipped then smirked at me. "Opal, Rio met Cappy's dad and that didn't go well," I enlightened my shower buddy. "What went wrong?" Opal sighed. With Rio, you never knew. "It is the whole bullshit of get your degree, go home, get married and start pumping out babies because that's some twisted vision of God's will," Rio stated angrily. "Most of the girls here are like that Rio," Opal responded. "Now hold on, they want to get married but we can certainly help them find the right guy and not some bum foisted on them by their families." "Opal, that's positively human of you," Rio wondered. "I was the bad girl before you two arrived," Opal snickered. "I wasn't in your league but I had radical thoughts." "The first day in the shower showed me as much," I confessed. "Well, that first body wash confirmed you weren't a girl," Opal bumped my hip with hers. "With Rio, well, it took us a while to figure out she wasn't a guy with a really small cock." Rio reached across me and smacked Opal. "My desire to be in the driver's seat doesn't make me a guy," Rio griped. "You are only the second person on this campus to have a girlfriend Rio," Opal rubbed her shoulder. "Give us a chance to adjust." "Adjust? I'm hoping for some conversions," Rio quipped. "Okay then, what are you doing tonight? Brigit and I are at loose ends," Opal offered. Rio stopped eating and looked over at Opal. "Sure, but the first one to suggest a pillow fight or that we paint our nails gets an attitude adjustment," Rio demanded. "I can hear Brigit's quim quivering already," Opal leered. "It's a date." Raven, and Paige again We had packed the last of our firearms away in the van modified to be a secure courier when the families in attendance and some of the other students gather around the bus. I spotted Raven hanging back with an older woman who was a bit heavier than she was. I walked over to make sure she was okay. "Hey Raven," I slipped past her guard and gave her a hug. She tensed up and muttered something. "What?" I wondered. "This is my mother, Carol," Raven said softly. She kept looking down at the ground. "It is nice to meet you Mr. Braxton," Carol greeted me. She seemed to be studying me intently as if she was expecting something from me. "It is nice to meet you to Ma'am," I grinned. "Raven is a really good friend to me and I couldn't be doing as well in English without her." "Do you and my daughter have a close relationship?" she pried. I could feel Raven start to fold up next to me in embarrassment. "I don't know what you mean?" I inquired. "Mom, we are just friends," Raven said sadly. Oh, now I thought I understood. "Mrs., Raven's Mom, Carol, please understand that being the only male in such a large female student body, several girls put all kinds of pressures on me," I began. "Your daughter is unique in that she treats me like a student first and that she truly helps me get by. If I couldn't touch base with her from time to time I might go nuts." "Oh," the Mom sounded somewhat disappointed. "Raven, how many girls have you helped me get away from?" I tried a different angle. "I, Paige, oh God Paige," Raven rumbled then, "and Barbie Lynn, and Rio and that girl Iona." "You really do help him with other girls?" Carol sounded surprised. "Yes Mom," Raven perked up. "Girls are always swarming around Zane, they won't let him study unless I'm around." Not totally the truth but hey. "I hope you understand that my daughter thinks a great deal of you," Carol drilled me with her over-productive Momma eyes. "The feeling is mutual," I nodded. The bus's horn beeped, it was time for us to board. "Raven, give me a kiss for luck at the meet?" Raven looked shocked but reached up on her tip-toes and kissed me on the cheek. I reciprocated the gesture and turned to leave. I had made it half way when I got blindsided and staggered. Several kisses smothered my face. "Hey Lover," Paige panted. "Good luck shooting shit and taking names." "I'm a spotter Paige. I don't actually shoot things," I clarified. "Good," she purred then stroked my cock. "Save more of that for me." "Who is that?" I heard Carol ask her daughter. "That's Paige," Raven growled with menace. Yeah, lots of love there. "Zane," Hope said evenly. We were ready to go. I gave Paige one more kiss and a squeeze on her ass then slipped passed Hope and got on the bus. Hope got on after me and Gorman started up the bus. "Well, that's not a send-off I'm used to," Genesis chuckled over Paige and I. "If it breaks his concentration, it won't be the only thing I'm sending off," Hope informed the bus to even more chuckles. Hell, it's a gun club; a bit of bloodthirstiness was to be expected. Working Past Homecoming. As Rio and I pulled into the driveway of my house, I noted both the progress Aunt Jill's contractors were making on the extension being built to shelter the motorcycles that were now hanging out at the place and their number. I also saw a bike that I didn't recognize with a brazen gang emblem on the saddle bags, Stormrider's, not Valarie's. Rio was still sulking over Mercy being with her parents. It was Saturday night so she had less than a day to go before Homecoming ended and Fall Break began. The hope was that Mercy could convince her parents she was required to stay on campus for the week school was out. Considering what her family patriarch thought of women's opinions, we didn't think she had a prayer. "A lot of bikes," Rio noted. "I don't care what Jill says, I'm grabbing a few beers." "Don't run around the front yard naked or swing from the rafters and we'll do fine," I joked. I wasn't going to fight Rio on this, I was preparing for a hung-over Rio at Church in the morning. We heard laughter as we stepped onto the porch. I swung the door open and announced us. "Jill, it's me and Rio," I said. The laughter died down and I heard footsteps coming my way. Jill and I met at the entry to the living room. We hugged, kissed and then she showed us in. Belle and Willa were regulars and Valarie was expected. The ginger-haired woman with a beer and a smile was unknown to me, though. "Zane, Rio, this is Fontana Palmer, Valarie's mother," Jill introduced us. "How's the leg, Old Lady?" Rio grinned. That's Rio for you. Fontana turned to Valarie. "You were right, you can't go ten minutes without wanting to punch her," she chuckled. "I got it for you," Belle hopped up. Rio, in her foul mood, was ready to get in a scrap right then and there but I knew that was plain stupid. "Come on, Belle," I intervened. "GF problems." "Yours or hers?" Belle hesitated. "Hers," I answered. Belle leaned past me and looked seriously at Rio. "Mercy's in trouble?" Belle sounded concerned. Willa half-turned on the sofa to get a better view of things. "She's with her," Rio bit down on the expletive for Jill's sake, "parents." "Ah, what a bitch," Belle moved past me and led Rio to the sofa. "Isn't it great when the folks decide that you aren't good enough for their little pride and joy? Been there, done that." Belle handed Rio her beer then looked back at me. "Zane, two more beers," she ordered. "Hi, Zane," I mocked myself, "Glad to have you back. How did the match go?" "It is good to have you back, Zane," Jill touched my arm. "How did the match go?" "What was the match in?" Fontana inquired. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Palmer," I corrected my rudeness. "He was in a marksmanship competition," Valarie jumped in. "How did you and Hope do?" "Hope took top spot but it was close," I informed them. "The number two guy came in .02 points behind and third was .08. The team took third place." All I have to say is those two guys scared the crap out of me. Apparently they shoot moose with .22's in their spare time or some shit like that. "Congratulations, Zane," Willa grinned. The room followed suit, except for Rio. I motioned Jill to return to her chair and made for the stairs. "Beers, bitch," Belle teased me. "Sorry, Jill, beers, Punk." I opted to not make a scene so I dropped my bag, went to the fridge, and got two beers. By the time I got back, Rio had buried her first beer and grabbed for her second. Belle took hers and winked. "What? No tip?" I wondered. "Oh, what were you expecting?" Belle tilted back her head. I ran a hand through her hair, leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Our tongues darted forth, then danced back and forth within our mouths. I put a hand on her shoulder then let it migrate down to her breast. I squeezed it gently and Belle moaned. I broke the kiss and smiled at her. "That'll do," I chuckled. Belle's eyes were alight and she was smiling as well. Jill was looking into the fireplace and blushing, Rio was blas , working through her beer, but the other three women were staring at me. "Beer, Zane," Valarie leered. Fontana, far from being protective, patted her daughter on the shoulder. "Oh, hell no," I waved off. "I was crawling through the woods all morning then spent the rest of the day riding in a bus with other smelly athletes. I'm putting my bag in my room and taking a shower." "Are you sure you know what to do showering alone?" Valarie called after me. Bitch. The first thing I noted was that someone had been sleeping in my bed. My money was on Fontana. I'd deal with that later but at the moment, all I wanted to do was get clean. As the hot water scalded away the grime and sweat I thought happy thoughts about Hope. She hadn't complimented me but she hadn't a bad thing to say about my performance either. In a way I felt 'in the zone'. I caught the range, slope and wind changes like a pro and I thought her score showed it. I knew she wanted the team to do better but with the youth of the squad, coming in third out of a field of twelve felt good to me. For Hope, nothing short of first would do. By the time I got downstairs, I was shirtless, wearing gym shorts, and drying my hair with a towel. The group had migrated to the den, the TV was on, and the conversation was muted. Jill's look told me I should have put on more clothes. I only wanted to unwind. The looks the other women were giving me were far less motherly. I groaned, shook my head and went to the kitchen for some OJ. When I returned, I looked around for a seat and decided to sit down at Jill's feet. She leaned forward and patted my shoulder. That was fine. Valarie and her mother constantly stealing my glances my way was less so. Rio was nursing a beer and her hurt feelings, Belle was running her hand through Rio's hair in a strangely comforting gesture, and Willa seemed amused by the whole affair. At the commercial break, Fontana stood up. "Zane, can I talk to you alone for a minute, outside," she requested. "Sure," I half stood then, "Wait, does this involve me and pain?" She snorted mirthfully. "No," she smirked. "If you behave I won't hurt you too much." "Go on, you wuss," Rio teased. "It isn't like you've despoiled her daughter or anything." "But I didn't," I explained desperately. "That's right," Willa joked. "It isn't like you two have rolled around in that, it's not a bed. What is it?" "It is a sleeping platform," I mumbled. "I got tired of girls taking a header off my bed." "That's awful considerate of you," Fontana smiled warmly. "A moment, please." I followed her into the hall, then reluctantly outside to the porch. I was wearing shorts and it was cold so I folded my arms to conserve some warmth. Fontana moved a few more steps down the porch, turned, and looked me over. "Zane, thank you for being a good friend to Valarie," Fontana began. That wasn't what I was expecting to hear. "Umm, okay," I responded. "See," Fontana went on, "when her father forced this on her to make her into his mold of what a good Christian woman should be, I was afraid the experience would leave her bitter." "Why is she doing this anyway?" I asked. "She's eighteen and can make her own choices." "Oh," Fontana mused thoughtfully. She paced back and forth once. "She likes you so much I assumed she told you." She paused for a moment. "After my problem with the law, my ex threatened to keep my other two daughters from me unless Valarie came to FFU." "Oh, the fuck you say," I growled. My arms came down and I balled up my fists. "Listen, I know a pretty good lawyer if you want someone to have another go at your case, or I can shove his head down a toilet until he changes his mind." Fontana laughed. "No, you are doing enough. Stormriders take care of themselves most of the time but it's good to have friends too," Fontana smiled. "Valarie is having a great time at school. She likes the girls she's met, well, some of them, and she's happy that so many are heading out our way over the summer," Fontana went on. "She's very proud." "I would have never guessed," I replied sarcastically. "No, really," Fontana faked her surprise well. "I know she hides it well but she's really proud of where she comes from. Honest." She paused again. "Can I ask you a personal question?" "Sure," I shrugged. "Why haven't you and my daughter hooked up? She won't tell me," Fontana questioned. "I'm not sure," I worked out. "I've never pressed her. She may not like having sex with the eternal audience that hovers around me. Maybe she's respectful of all the other women in my life right now. All those answers sound plausible." "Ha," Fontana laughed. "Stormriders aren't exactly bashful. She says your girlfriend, Heaven, shares but I think she really likes you because you aren't hitting on her." "She likes me because I respect her boundaries? Oh, Gawd," I groaned. "At times I really wish I was an asshole. As it is, I'm afraid that one day my cock is going to fall off." Fontana walked up, patted my crotch. "That would be a pity," she whispered into my ear before heading inside. Because I Must Secretly Abhor a Good Night's Sleep Later that evening At school, I slept on a contraption that easily slept twelve and was often occupied by eight. I go home so I can sleep, on the sofa? See, Valarie and her mom were in my room, they were guests after all. In the prepared guest room, now Belle's room, Willa and Belle had crashed out. We had three other rooms upstairs but Jill hadn't gotten around into making anything of them. Rio was supposed to join Valarie and Fontana in my bed but somewhere between the 12 and 20 beers she and Belle were sharing; Rio decided to grab a throw pillow, curl up on the floor and pass out/go to sleep. An effort to rouse her failed so I put a quilt over her and let her sleep it off. After 11:00 Jill went upstairs and the rest followed her to bed. I put a few logs on the fire and laid down to sleep on the sofa. I couldn't have been asleep more than an hour when I felt something nudge my hip. I looked up to see Fontana's ass pressed against my side, her looking down into my eyes. Fontana was beautiful but in a hard, flinty way. She was mature but compact, like a she-wolf with little padding or softness to her. Her long ginger hair was pulled back in a ponytail though her bangs were hanging loose. She wore a tight grey t-shirt that said 'Eyes Up!' that highlighted her breasts. Sure, a bit of a sag in her 36C's but very nice. The shirt only came halfway down her belly, fully exposing her bright red bikini brief panties to my gaze. Her eyes were the same blue as Valarie's and danced in the fading fire's light. There were lines around her eyes and her face was weathered but strong. I could have stupidly asked what she wanted but, hey, she was sitting next to me, dressed like that after 'lights out'. I propped my upper body with my right elbow while reaching out with my left and cupping her right cheek. As I drew her to me, Fontana twisted her body around so that she straddled me. I had to scoot my body toward the edge to give her knee room to settle down. She kissed me with a steady intensity that slowly pushed my head back to my pillow. "Man, you are easy," she breathed playfully after we broke a long embrace. "I thought I'd have to explain myself or some other shit like that," she added. "If there's anything else I need to know, you'll tell me," I said softly as I brushed her bangs aside. "I fig

In this special episode recorded at the Aspen Literary Festival presented by Book of the Month, debut authors Kristin Koval, Anika Jade Levy, and Eliana Ramage give candid thoughts on first novels, family themes, and the pure magic of getting published. From origin stories to audience questions, they discuss what it takes to go from blank page to Book of the Month pick. About Penitence: When murder rocks a Colorado family, old secrets resurface, and long-lost love returns. Spanning decades and coasts, one family grapples with guilt, forgiveness, and the mess of trying to make things right. About Flat Earth: In a crumbling near-future New York, a young woman spirals through grad school, sugar daddies, and watching her best friend become the next big thing. This darkly funny debut explores transactional love, female friendship, and some unexpected conspiracy theories.  About To the Moon and Back: Steph Harper is determined to escape her past—and Earth—with a dream to become an astronaut. As she pushes toward space, and past the Cherokee Nation where she was raised, the women around her navigate their own journeys of identity, ambition, and belonging.  Get Penitence, Flat Earth, and To the Moon and Back at bookofthemonth.com.  Learn more about Book of the Month LIVE at bookofthemonth.com/botm-live.  

651. This week we talk to Skye Jackson about her poetry. Skye was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. She writes about love, femininity and the challenges of navigating our modern world as a young Black woman. Her work has appeared in Palette Poetry, The Southern Review, RHINO, RATTLE and elsewhere. She is the author of the chapbook A Faster Grave (2019) and her debut collection of poetry, Libre, which was recently published by Regalo Press and distributed nationally by Simon & Schuster. Liberty in Louisiana: A Comedy The oldest play about Louisiana, author James Workman wrote it as a celebration of the Louisiana Purchase. Now it is back in print for the first time in 221 years. Order your copy today! This week in the Louisiana Anthology. Eloise Bibb. Poems. "Eliza, in Uncle Tom's Cabin."  HER MARRIAGE. See! the moon is smiling Down her brightest beams, And the leaflets sleeping, Whisper in their dreams; Hear the merry music, And the peoples' lays, Hear the happy voices Joining in the plays.     There in old Kentucky, On a summer's night, Stands a quadroon maiden, Clothed in robes of white; On her raven ringlets, Orange blossoms sleep, O'er her slender figure, Bridal vestments sweep.     There we see her mistress, Smiling now with pride, On her handsome fav'rite, Whom she sees a bride. There is much rejoicing O'er Eliza's match; Misses Shelby fancies George is a good “catch.”     So the banjo's sounding, And the people sing, Hear them gayly dancing, To the fiddle's ring. But the dawn is breaking, Guests must now disperse; Quick the bow is silent, Ere the sunlight bursts. This week in Louisiana history. November 8, 1893. First LSU v. Tulane football game (held in N.O.). This week in New Orleans history. Born in New Orleans on November 8, 1876, Arthur Joseph O'Keefe, Sr., was the 48th mayor of New Orleans. A graduate of St. Aloysius High School, he operated his own coffee import company. Before becoming mayor, O'Keefe was a prominent member of the Regular Democratic Organization, the political machine that had dominated New Orleans for decades. This week in Louisiana. The City of Kenner's 4th Annual Food Truck Festival Sunday, November 16, 2025 11:00 am - 7:00 pm hkenner.la.us/384/Kenner-Food-Truck-Festival-2025 List of Vendors Kenner's Laketown (by the Kenner Boat launch) from 11:00 AM - 7:00 PM. Admission is free. Live musical performances by Amber Drive, The Wiseguys, Rock Show Nola, and Timothy Wayne. Experience Arts & craft vendors, a kids' activity zone, and the delicious cuisine of over 30 local food trucks! Stay tuned for more updates. Postcards from Louisiana. Delfeyo Marsalis. Snug Harbor.  Listen on Apple Podcasts. Listen on audible. Listen on Spotify. Listen on TuneIn. Listen on iHeartRadio. The Louisiana Anthology Home Page. Like us on Facebook. 

Jordan shares some news about author talks in the area. Get all the news you need by listening to WBZ - Boston's News Radio! We're here for you, 24/7. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

See the exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. Get all the news you need by listening to WBZ - Boston's News Radio! We're here for you, 24/7. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Details of this year's Boston International Antiquarian Book Fair. Get all the news you need by listening to WBZ - Boston's News Radio! We're here for you, 24/7. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

William L. Shirer and the American Centur. Get all the news you need by listening to WBZ - Boston's News Radio! We're here for you, 24/7. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 28 Sandwiches? In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.             Some masks hide who we are. Others show who we want to be                I could bowl Mercy over with a feather. Rio and I are doing the same social mechanics and come to the same conclusion. There are three reasons to marry a gay guy; 1.      money, 2.      social pressure and 3.      camouflage. Felicity doesn't need the money, so we simply assumed it to be number two. We totally missed the other reason; Felicity is a lesbian. Rio takes it in her slow and easy style. She walks up and puts Felicity in a gentle Mercy, Felicity, Rio sandwich. "I am going to have so much fun breaking you in," Rio whispers affectionately to Felicity. "When you get good at it, I'll let you play with Mercy, she likes to be played with but you have to be firm. Do you like it firm and hard, my most favorite and annoying little Ass-Tramp?" Subtle like a freaking tsunami. Mercy recovers from her shock to nod her head vigorously. "What about Barbie Lynn?" Felicity inquires with velvet hunger. "She's Zane's," Rio informs her. Felicity looks a bit disappointed. "Zane shares her though, so don't expect her to fall in love with you," then leans in and up, "but you'll find out her lips, titties and ass are to die for. Now let's go back to my room and let me show you some things," Rio grins, looks over her shoulder and gives me a wink. Who's room? Barbie Lynn pats my ass then skips after the trio. "We are going to lube up Mercy and try out some of the basics," Rio instructs Felicity. "We'll see what intrigues you then I'll send you home with some toys to practice with and, well, loosen you up a bit. Mercy didn't become fantastic overnight. I had to work on her a lot. See, and the conversation is drowned out by the rest of the students on the floor. No one has batted an eye about Mercy, Rio, and/or Felicity either. Maybe I really am the downfall of the Judeo-Christian tradition after all. Rio is taking responsibility for Mercy. Mercy just stepped out to the World as her true self, a tiny, tiny step anyway. Barbie Lynn is playing Dorm Mother in spades and in a manner way beyond the Handbook's job description. Valarie, Vivian and Iona have gathered together then when Vivian finger-beckons me over. I saunter over to see what's going to go wrong with my life next, and if they have any Tribbles hiding there I'm going to burn the little bastards in the sink. That's not what brings me over. "All the Advocate-candidates have been approached and agreed to serve," Vivian seems amused to inform me. "They want what little ceremony exists to be performed and the Advocates sworn in at 9pm." "Has someone worked on an Oath of Office," I groan. 'To one's self be true', what else can I say? "It seems some of the prelaw students actually had a little contest and they've put something together," Vivian smiles warmly. "It has been downloaded to your phone, it is under Advocate Oath of Office." "Why are you being such a smart ass?" I look her over. "Hasn't my day been bad enough?" "Zane, have you seen your phone log for the past twelve hours?" Vivian asks me. I have been ignoring my phone, in fact. I check it now and I bless those hard working Taiwanese and the huge memory capacity they've put in my global lifeline; otherwise my phone would have melted down hours ago. Fuck, I have phone calls from people I don't even know, who live in, France, Germany, Brazil and Belarus? I rack my mind to remember where Belarus is, blonde-haired, blue eyed Slavic ladies, now I know! The viewing of Star Trek humiliations seem to be universal but at least they don't know my name or face. There is some serious Time Lord Mafia paddling over this one. They've used my damn private phone number. "When do you think you'll talk to Rio," Iona asks cautiously. "I'll take care of that right now, while she's feeling happy and playful," I comfort Iona. "Besides, it could be worse; everyone is looking for a pudgy Sasquatch, not me." The three ladies all stare at me. "Oh fuck," I groan. "Well," Vivian looks away (oh hell), "the footage sort of shows you taking a shower plus your name and phone number." "But your transformation into is a fur-ball is truly precious," Valarie comforts/mocks me. "All my gal-pals out West think you are so cute; Phoenix, one of my Mom's jailbird friends, even used the 'too cute' emoticon and I didn't even think she knew what emoticons were. She sent it to all her buds still in lock-up too." "Great, I'm popular in a women's correctional facility, at least it is in another state," I sigh upward. I pray to God that never becomes relevant. "Hell, I have a housewife in Belarus she wants me as a house pet." "What does she look like?" Valarie seems curious. "How would I know?" I am somewhat offended. Valarie takes my phone but I don't resist too much. She scrolls a bit then hits the number. "Don't call her," I bark. Valarie laughs then hands me my phone back. She shows me the 'entirety' of the girl's message. Nice bikini, or what there is of it and I can't imagine it being too practical that far north. She is divorced, with a one year old son, 22 years old and fresh out of college with a job as a PR specialist for a real estate development firm. She also speaks seven freaking languages, I feel like such an underachiever right now, or male underwear model. Maybe I'll make her a pen pal ~ she's a half a world away. I should be safe. Right now I can't play it safe though; I have to go play with Rio and I know that violates my health insurance under the 'feeding dangerous animals' clause. "Zane," Iona offers to take my phone so I give it to her (why should I distrust her right?). Her delicate little fingers fly across it then she hands it back. "You now have a fifteen minute warning," she is trying to be helpful. "Paige seems to have vanished," I request, "so when you see her, tell her to give us some peace please." The three of the saner women I know give me a nod. I round the final screen and there is my sleeping platform. Barbie Lynn and Felicity are examining a stunning large collection of sexual aids (that my credit card must have paid for), which Rio is sedately explaining to them, sort of what you would expect from a Mary Kay or Avon saleswomen. Mercy is bent over the bed, pushing up her ass by standing on her toes, skirt and panties gone and surreptitiously undoing her blouse buttons when she thinks Rio isn't looking. Mercy even flashes a precious grin my way when she sees me. It is the 'Weeee! I'm about to get fucked' look. While amiably chatting away, Rio puts her hand over one of Felicity's hands and leads it over to Mercy's flank. Felicity puts up a token resistance. "Do that again and it will cost you," Rio purrs. Felicity stares at Rio's feral nature, seeing her truly for the first time then obeys. "Good girl," Rio coos in Felicity's ear. That reminds me what I've forgotten to do today, the air filters. I look around the various wardrobes for some sort of precision tool like a baseball bat, crowbar, sledgehammer, fire axe or chainsaw, I have a cricket bat? What the hell am I doing with a cricket bat? Isn't that the National sport of India; is it even played on this continent? It may be one of a kind; I'll spare it. "Zane!" Rio snaps. Apparently she's been calling my name for a second or two. "Yeah Bro, what do you need?" I answer. I'm not being attacked by someone so she must need something from me. "Felicity is self-conscious about being naked in front of us girls," Rio grins. "Could you pick out a swimsuit for her that is conservative and demur?" In Rio-speak that means three small circle Band-Aids and some dental floss. "What color would you like Felicity?" I ask. She says white; I groan because when you sweat/drip on white it becomes translucent. Maybe she's teasing me. I pick out a Rio-approved set (she has a whole drawer labeled 'Slut Wear' after all), hides it from her until I walk around and hand the 'suit' to Rio. Top lesson: 1.      Rio is in charge. Rio approved approves the look suit then hands it to Felicity. "You expect me to wear this?" Felicity gasps. "That's going to cost you Sweet-cheeks," Rio grins wickedly. "I can't wear this," Felicity stammers. Rio puts a finger to her lips to stop Felicity from saying anything else. "I apologize, Ms. Tolliver," Rio nods, "I think you are in the wrong place. Thank you for the books; good-bye now." Felicity is looking back and forth between Rio, Barbie Lynn, Mercy and me. Barbie Lynn gives Felicity a friendly shrug; I mirror that gesture while Rio takes up a medium lavender dildo, a bottle of lube and pours an expertly delivered thin stream on the tool and Mercy's asshole as if they are one. She's pointedly ignoring Felicity. Felicity is a 'Prom Queen' type and now some jumped-up freshman has dismissed her like she is nothing; I doubt that has ever happened before. On the other hand, Rio is brazenly open with her sexuality and sexual desires; a freedom Felicity has always felt denied her. Felicity almost makes a crucial mistake but I catch her starting to form the words 'I'm sorry' to me but I redirect her with a tilt of my head. "I apologize," Felicity whispers. "Zane, could you take over for me please," Rio says. I step around to her far side and start working my dildo slowly into Mercy's rectum. She wiggles her ass playfully to the intrusion. Rio steps up to Felicity, rises up on her tiptoes and grips Felicity's head firmly but gently. Rio tries to kiss Felicity but I can tell the taller blonde's jaws clench and her body stiffens. "One last chance," Rio insists. She lets the implications sink in then kisses her again. It is a close thing but Felicity finally breaks down and let's Rio's tongue master her tongue, mouth and lips. Felicity moan eradicates a decade of repression and denial and it is with some reluctance that the taller blonde lets the short, darker Rio settle down. Rio presses a finger to Felicity's lips again. "This is going to be the last time I'm nice to you for some time," Rio begins. She stops Felicity from speaking once more. "Zane and I are closer than family, he's number 1 in my book; there is no other. I will call you whatever I want to call you and you will not talk back. My safe words are 'That fucking hurts' or clapping your ankles together if you can't speak." "Mercy is mine; hurt her and I will bury you, my hand to God. Outside of that, I will use you like I want to. I will show you things you've only read about, make you dress in clothes that terrify you, and press you as hard as I can because I care about you Felicity. Are you a virgin?" Rio inquires. "Yes," Felicity moans somewhat frightened. "Your vaginal virginity is yours, your oral and anal virginity are mine," she explains. "When I say come over, don't make excuses, bring your ass to wherever I am. I am going to be hard on you and give you to my friends to play with because it amuses me, clear? Are you okay with this; if you aren't, this is your last chance to back out because I will hunt your ass down after tonight." "I can, I'm okay with this," Felicity says with less trepidation. "Okay Bitch," Rio growls, "Take off your shoes, panties and skirt; pick out the paddle you think you deserve to be spanked with and bed over the bed. That shirt better not be in the way. Oh, you are leaving your bra with me tonight, go home without it. You only wear panties if you have my permission as well." "Yes, Felicity falters. "Call me Rio," she clarifies. "I'm not afraid of who the fuck I am. You've looked down at people like me all your life and now you are going to be as degraded as what you wanted me to go through. Payback is a bitch." "Yes Rio," Felicity confirms softly. "Well, get to it," Rio snaps and swats Felicity's ass. "I want to waste some time on my beautiful, wonderful, annoying slut here," she moved to Mercy, "and her tricky little self has been taking off her clothes without my permission." The slap Rio plants leaves a red handprint on Mercy who exhales contentedly at Rio's attention. "Oh, you've been a naughty little fuck-slut, and you are wetter than the damn river," Rio whispers in Mercy's ear as one hand pumps the vibrator in her ass and the other strokes her wet cunt. Yeah Rio, that's putting the fear of God in Mercy, right. Felicity takes the most-wicked looking paddle available and I've never even seen Rio consider using. "Bro, we have a meeting at 9pm so we need to break it up in about an hour," I give the bad news. "Zane, damn, take over Mercy once more; I trust you with her but I want tears and if you could get her to bite up a ball gag, I'd appreciate it," Rio asks. Mercy has been placated and her position with Rio affirmed. She's a happy little Bottom once more because Rio finds her annoying, which means 'love' when translated into sane people-speak. "Barbie Lynn, warm her up for me," Rio requests of the blonde bombshell as she falls on Felicity's behind's like a Bedouin dying of thirst. I can see Felicity about to turn and plead for Barbie Lynn's attention because she mistakenly believes BLT will be hesitant. Boy, she's in for a surprise. Barbie Lynn's thumbs push the base of Felicity's softly resistant ass up and apart. Barbie Lynn is lapping like a dog at Felicity's cunny alternating flicks of the tongue along the labia and short, rapid intrusions. "What kind of sick masochist are you?" Rio snarls, waving Felicity's chosen paddle before her eyes. "I use this to crush the skulls of rogue water buffaloes; where was I supposed to hit you; on the asses of your ancestors cause that was where you were headed? What the hell was this even doing in my collection anyway?" "Also, what are you doing with your bra still on? I'm going to want those bad boys milked before you escape tonight," Rio grumbled. "You didn't, Felicity starts to protest even as Barbie Lynn twirls her toward orgasm. "Shut up!" Rio hisses. "Barbie Lynn, teach her a lesson." Barbie Lynn frees up one hand long enough to give her one 'moderate' spank. "Where is Paige; I need her nimble, spider-like finger of Evil." I can't seem to spot her so Paige is forced to clear her throat, she has carefully hidden herself behind my, pillow; she's hiding by the simple expedients of being in semi-darkness and being very still. It is so eerie I almost love her, love her. "Jesus H. Christ," Rio jumps. "I'd put bells on you but I'd probably end up with them in my cunt, now that actually, focus Rio!" she chastises herself. "Paige, help me strip my latest toy down and give her nipples a stress test," Rio requests. "Deal, but you need to do me one favor," Paige starts crawling over toward Felicity. "Sure, now get snappy," Rio urges her on as starts to pull Felicity's shirt over the girl's head. "Forgive me for forcing Iona to help me and the Time Lord Mafia," Paige cashes in her favor immediately. It is all the more self-sacrificial in that I suspect Cordelia kept Paige out of the whole plot. "Bitch," Rio seethes at Paige, "if you messed up Iona I'll still find a way to make you pay, I promise you." "You granted me a favor," Paige reminds Rio cautiously. "Zane, do something," Rio pleads. "I've already sworn not to make the responsible parties pay, beyond what Cordelia has already granted me," I grin. "I get Paige's ass whenever I want, how often I want, until the end of October," I add. Paige lowers her head and trembles with fear and anticipation; the 'threat' of anal sex is something Paige and I are working through plus, since Paige fears it, Rio will love the fantasy vision of Paige squirming on my 'meaty pole', see Barbie Lynn's thesaurus. Rio can't get away from Paige fast enough, falling into the narcotic pleasures of Mercy's treasures. Rio is often misunderstood; pain is a daily part of her life brought about by her blatantly aggressive lifestyle and the wraiths of her past. Mercy isn't in any danger; she could hardly be safer at the moment, figuratively speaking. Mercy's ass and cunt are getting a workout to the point I'm afraid that Rio is going to shove that dildo all the way into Mercy's colon and Rio's tongue might end Mercy's 'pesky' virginity by tongue-muscle action alone. Paige shoots me a sad smile before she gets on her back and starts sliding under Felicity. When they are face to face, but running in different directions, Paige and Felicity exchange some wistful kisses. "You are beautiful," Felicity moans down at the pale pink lips and snowy skin of someone who is working both overtime at being my lover and more importantly, a friend to my group of friends. "I know," Paige responds confidently before wiggling her way further under Felicity. Soon she has the first taste most likely anyone has had over of her breasts and nipples. I can tell when Paige draws in the first full gulp of tit because Felicity goes off like a bronco mare with a cougar cub on her back. She is making deep, guttural moans but at least she's not screaming her head off. "Rio, do you want Felicity to taste my tits?" Paige asks. Rio is being petulant. "Rio, if you want I'll never talk to Paige or Iona again because they are both Time Lord Mafia and they all had a part to play in this," I declare. "I know of only one who didn't, and if she's my sole friend with them after this, so be it, but you have to let me fight my own fights alone from time to time and let me decide what counts as a victory." "Fuck the bitches," Rio pops up, much to Mercy's astonishment, "One is more than enough." "Fine, Iona is out Rio. The only one who didn't have a part in this morning was Paige," I tell Rio. "I'll go tell her that you two are done, but I'll have you know she was operating under my orders, sort of. I told her not to go against Cordelia and she did as I asked." Rio seems truly conflicted for the longest time then she drapes herself over Mercy's body. "Honey-hole reach back, take over and keep yourself going or I'll make you feel up each Karate Club member during practice Monday," Rio purrs to her lover. Mercy hastily obeys because I think something about the way the situation playing out intrigues her. Rio shuffles down to Barbie Lynn, Felicity's posterior and Paige's head. "You fucking lied to me you freaky douche," Rio declares venomously at the albino Paige. Paige wisely keeps silent, there is nothing positive she can say. SheRio plants four resounding smacks on Felicity's exposed bottom. Felicity squeals, distracting Rio momentarily. "You'll pay for that, you skank," Rio hisses at Felicity. "Paige, how fucking dare you disappoint me," she growls. "How dare you act above my expectations; you are almost a human being," Rio finishes - as if the term 'human being' is as horrid a term as ATF agent or fashionista. Rio stands up and views her domain. Mercy is going all out though she clearly misses her Top and Felicity is panting herself toward another, more prolonged climax. "Barbie-licious, would you take care of my prize for me; you know what she likes," Rio requests with a hint of her normal madness. "Paige, give her some nipple-age and I'm going to break in Felici-hump's whore-hole." For the English-speaking public that means (I think) that Paige is to open her own shirt, unfasten her front-access bra and lead Felicity's lips to those translucent, succulent breasts I find so tasty. Felicity is clearly in a sexual buzz; otherwise she might spend precious minutes trying to figure out that Rio just declared her intention to introduce Felicity to anal sex of the strap-on variety. "Hey, pansy-boy," Rio mocks me and my reclining majesty, "get over here and give me some of that magic tongue and finger work that will turn her back into a straight." That's just mean. "Please don't make me like men," Felicity stammers. Her eyes are glassy and feverish. Rio smacks both buttocks this time and Felicity squeals louder. "You don't get to talk, you listen," Rio commands. "You are a perfect lover, a lesbian," Rio explains from some teasing twisted core. "We simply sleep with men to control them, but I don't want you sleep with Lance without my permission, is that understood?" Felicity keeps her words within her lips as well as going back to use another one of Paige's nipples for further succor. This is just bizarre, the bi-sexual is demanding/empowering the lesbian to not sleep with her gay fianc , I couldn't write stuff this weird and then avoid rehab. "In fact, Zane has an in with your future Mother-in-law and she'll tell him if she even suspects her baby boy is having sex with a woman," Rio double-pumps her eyebrows at me. Rio doesn't 'know' that I'm having sex with Rochelle Wellington; Felicity's soon to be MIL. We do both know Lance, the fianc , likes playing with other men's cocks. We have the video file to prove it too. "You step out on me and I'll sell you to that sorority next door to Zane's house for a weekend," Rio threatens. Felicity isn't Mercy, she's repressed while Mercy is perverse (by outside standards). Full exposure to the town at large frightens Felicity because she doesn't want deal with the social consequences of being labeled homosexual. Mercy is actually afraid of her sexual proclivities themselves as well as the real physical danger of exposure. Once Felicity finds her own identity her relationship will change, in essence she'll never replace Mercy in Rio's heart. There is never going to be that vulnerability and utter acceptance that those two have. Felicity is going to be fun and in time I think Hudson Lane may be a better match as a companion. Hudson and Felicity are adults where Rio fights adulthood with every breath. Rio's choice in strap-ons is odd to say the least; the only time Rio had shown it to Mercy, Mercy had been afraid, afraid that Rio would waste their time on something so, unimpressive. Until I noticed Mercy's distress that morning I didn't think Rio had something so, (training wheels?) in her arsenal; this was what Rio picked to break Felicity in. No one knows my buddy like I do. Rio is still working Felicity's bunghole over with a sole finger when she leans over the tall slender blonde's back. Rio uses one hand to cord that long hair until it is one thick mass, and then she pulls it back like a corded rein. It isn't until the tip of the dildo nestles into the cusp of Felicity's sphincter that Felicity figures out what's about to happen. "No Rio, please, I don't want this," Felicity panics. "Sssh," Rio coos, "it is going in and I'm going to teach you how." "Rio, I don't," Felicity trembles. "Why?" Rio whispers her question. 'Why is Felicity afraid of this violation' is what Rio is aiming for. They stay there locked and silent. After a minute, Rio picks up her actions. "When I begin to thrust forward, I want you to use your inner muscles to push back," Rio says tenderly. Rio goes forward and Felicity tenses so she stops. "Relax, it won't hurt, only feel funny," Rio assures her. Not always true but, This time things culminate with Felicity gives a sharp gasp followed by a whispered sigh. "Okay," Rio murmurs to her prey, "I am tired of doing all the work. You need to push back now," she continues. "Come back against me you cunt-loving whore." Felicity bucks slightly and shakes her head. "No, no," she pleads at barely above a whisper herself. "It's okay," Rio runs a hand along Felicity's spine. "You can come back later if you like. Your ass is mine but I'll wait for you to give it to me but, no cunt for you to taste or lips upon your cunt until then Felicity. I'll be taking care of Barbie Lynn for you". Rio winks at me, "Or more likely you are leaving her for Zane, man that he is; you know she'll get addicted to that cock eventually." Bang! Felicity looks heart-shot. Felicity starts working Rio's artificial cock down her asshole. Rio looks at me and gives the best 'Home Alone!' face I've ever seen. She's floored that Felicity has been sucked into our mad circus. She then puts both hands on Felicity's hips. "Slow down Felicity, and welcome to the club," Rio grins down at her. Felicity rests for about thirty seconds then Rio spanks each flank. "Giddy-up now; you still have four inches to go." "I thought I could stop," Felicity whined. "You said, "You stopped; I let you stop," Rio sneered, "Now I'm telling you to back your sweet ass up." I'm going to give Rio a Janus mask for Christmas. I'd get her medication for her insanity but I know she'd eventually slip it into my food no matter what. "Come on now Felicity-Sugah," Barbie Lynn joins it. "You always had such a gentle hand training me in Karate. It'd be a crying shame if no other girls got to feel the way you made me feel. You have always been so strong, be strong now." Felicity rotates her head somewhat foal-like and stretches the hair Rio is using as a rein before she pushes back again. This time when Felicity stops Rio slaps her ass lightly. My buddy also grins madly at me and mouths 'I am so going to Hell over this' then giggles. I mouth back 'Right beside you'. Felicity is finally all the way back and resting when Mercy begins to shudder violently. "Holygoddamnfuckingpieceofshit!!!!" Mercy howls into the sheets. Barbie Lynn hammers her bunghole and mangles her clit so much that she repeats the phrase three times in rapid succession and all the time she looks as compassionate as a mother changing a newborn. Felicity takes that inspiration and runs with it. Rio is pulling back with the strap-on when Felicity pushes back hard. Rio pushes her forward and rotates her hips for more of a sensation before snatching up a slender blue paddle that seems more flexible than rigid. She quickly makes good use of it, stinging Felicity's rump and making the ride home for her interesting. Paige starts flicking Felicity's clit but that is more than Felicity can take. Thankfully she releases Paige's right tit before she clamps her teeth and bows her back up and down multiple times as orgasm hits her. Rio has to grip Felicity's hips tightly to not be bucked off and she's loving it. Felicity collapses on Paige but I quickly roll Felicity on her back, Rio's strap-on slides out painlessly, so I can pull Paige to me. Paige and I exchange a heated kiss while Rio unfastens the dildo, lets it fall to the floor. Rio crawls on the bed, hooks a finger into Mercy's collar and forces the exhausted beauty to follow her farther up the bed. Rio reclines against the headboard with Mercy resting her head on her Mistresses stomach, hair cascading over Rio's stomach, crotch, and thigh as well as her own face. Rio is running her hands through her lover's hair with an affection few at the school would believe. Barbie Lynn decides to take her own approach with Felicity. She mentioned experimenting with girls before meeting me on the day I first moved into this dorm, downstairs and a long, long time ago it seems. With the fear that permeated this place, it was probably furtive touches at night in bed with your roommate or a quick grope in the showers. Felicity barely has the time to register Barbie's presence before Barbie Lynn has Felicity's legs up, bent at the knees and cunt full exposed. Barbie doesn't dive in, instead crawling onto Felicity's body until they are face to face. Felicity gets this surprised, I can't believe this is finally coming true' face, the Barbie Lynn's lips are pressing hers. "Hey Honey-Trap," Rio snaps playfully, "what do you think you are doing with my Thing Two?" (Note: Never combine Rio and Doctor Seuss on You Tube; legions of little minds will be forever corrupted) "Give it a rest Rio," Barbie Lynn looks up and grins at my Bud, "Felicity gets a time-out and she gets to have it with me, are we clear?" This is not a fight I'm stepping into and Rio, Mercy and Barbie Lynn know it. Barbie Lynn doesn't ask for much from Rio and is pretty tolerant of her so now that Barbie Lynn is making a stand and, "This is really hard on her," Rio says affectionately. "Take your time." I leave Barbie Lynn and Felicity to play and carry Paige around to the far side of Rio. Paige is coiled around my body so I doubt she could be happier outside of 'bouncy, bouncy'. "What's going on Babe," I whisper to Rio. "What's your game?" "Don't tell anyone because they won't believe you but I've been reading," she tilts her forehead against mine. "I've been reading the diary of an actual dominatrix by the firelight of me burning 'Fifty Shades of Someone Stupid'." "You are right," I snicker, "no one would ever believe you actually read a book." She punches me then Mercy shoots me a weak blow to the ribs. "Hey you," Rio tapped Mercy's nose, "who said you could get in a fight? I think someone is getting hog-tied and ice cubes rubbed up and down their spine." Mercy shivers happily. "Do you want to do anything like that with me," Paige purrs. "I want to sneak into your parent's room and fuck you hard on their bed in every position we can think of," I state calmly, as if I've given it great thought. Paige's dampness streams down onto my left hip and thigh as she shivers in delight. It is all about knowing your partner. This forbidden act knocks her right out of the ballpark. "Are we, you and I, any closer?" Paige murmurs. "You know who has my heart, Paige, but we are closer, if that matters," I tell her. "When did that happen?" Paige smiles up at me. "About fifteen minutes ago," I kiss the tip of her nose. "So I had to lie to a total nut-job to save another friend of yours and risk a beating to take us a step forward, and it wasn't the black leather micro-mini," Paige moans as finds the perfect spots on my chest and lap to settle into. It is a precious few minutes we share, with Rio alternating tender caresses with pinches to the nipples and slaps to the breasts, buttocks and thighs. Mercy makes mewling little sighs in response to both sets of gestures. Felicity has finally rolled Barbie Lynn over and engaging in every less-than-vanilla sexual act she thinks she's missed over the three years she's known, showered with, and competed with my Georgia Honey-box. By the play of Barbie's right hand, the thick, sloppy sound that's emanating from between Felicity's thighs and Felicity's shortness of breath, Barbie Lynn is driving her former classmate made with lust. "Bro, can I turn Mercy into an ice cream dispenser? Sort of 'squeeze these wonderful titties' then scoop out some Neapolitan from her cunt," Rio snickers my way. She loves yanking my chain, and Mercy's, from time to time. "No! That has to be cold as hell and you may not make Mercy poop or pee dairy products," I command, "Rio-saurus Rex!" "Oh, that's gross," Rio dares to look offended. "I would never put ice cream up my favorite Lust-receptacle's butthole. That is for the ice cream cones." "Fine, you may not stuff Mercy like an clair," I clarify. "I'm putting my foot down and if Paige and I have to do full body cavity searches to make sure you behave, so be it." Felicity erupts through her final orgasm of the night, her body twisting and stretching as sweat drips off her body. Barbie Lynn keeps subtle control of Felicity's body which is both touching and frightening, she's getting sexually wound up and she's going to corral my cock and drive it up her ass, my approval being optional. The dirty, sexy look she shoots me is as good a piece of proof as I need. "I can't have you two touching my bitch without supervision," Rio states angrily, yeah right. "I'll have to check out all her opening once you two get done, a triple check." Mercy looks over toward Paige and me. Her eyes are open wide with lust and anticipation. "I suppose we could simply trust Mercy and take her word for it," I tease. "No," Rio goes off, "I can tell you right now; she's one sneaky little slut." "I don't trust her," Paige nods. "The pretty ones always need to be kept in line, harshly." Mercy merely shakes her head vigorously in affirmation of her devious and untrustworthy nature. "Where are you people from?" Felicity pants through her fatigued smile. "The People's Republic of None of Your Damn Business," Rio slaps Mercy's thigh. "We keep Rio in a steel box," Barbie Lynn pets Felicity's left nipple. "The rest of us are regular students. Okay, Zane's a tad irregular, but he means well." My phone buzzes from the far side of the bed. "Time to wrap it up team," I give out the bad news. "Felicity, you can sweep step out with Barbie Lynn to the shower, different showers because giving the freshman student body an alternative lifestyle exhibition is not an option for tonight. The rest of us will give it a few minutes and go out and pretend the world is a normal place." "Felicity, I want your bra and panties up here on my pillow," Rio demands. "I'm going to use them to bind up Mercy tonight. She's been, umm, mediocre so I'm gagging her with that boring underwear and hooking her hands over her head with that sad, old bra of yours." "I thought you only wanted my bra," Felicity questions? "Spank her for me BLT," Rio growls. Barbie Lynn gave gives three sharp, alternating smacks on each ass cheek. Felicity bites her lower lip and whimpers. "No back talking now F; I said no bra tonight, but also no panties ever without my approval." Felicity nods. Barbie Lynn takes Felicity by the hand, over to the towel closet then leads her somewhat reluctantly out into the main floor. "Rio, did I do you a good turn," Paige asks. Rio thinks that over for a minute, making small circles in Mercy's hair. "Yes, yes you did, you albino deviant," Rio allows. "Can I have Mercy for my use for one night sometime soon?" Paige requests. "That's not how it works," Rio scolds Paige after a few seconds. "She's mine to use, no one else's. I can have someone use her for my pleasure but she's a damn human being, not a bean-bag chair. I will give you this though, because you can be so incredibly stupid about people, I'll let Mercy know that it would make me happy to see her with you; how is that?" Mercy is resting on her head on Rio's lap, so she clearly hears what's going on. Rio is really the best friend in the world, and one of the best people I've ever known. I can live with the crazy. Homecoming. So, it was Friday, Homecoming Day at FFU, and several dozen of us were not doing what we were supposed to do but I wanted this headache taken care of before the rest of the day's festivities. All the Advocates were gathered as was Ms. Goodswell, as a Student Advisor. Other people were gathered to observe the spectacle and guessing which way I would jump. This first major crisis of my role as Mediator since the creation of the Janissaries wouldn't have been complete without Iona, my trusty sidekick, and Rio, my chronic pain in the ass & truest friend. In fact, Rio was the reason for this meeting. She had been given the writing assignment of 'place the writings of a juvenile story into an adult setting'. The train wreck wasn't hard to foretell. Rio had chosen four works of the late, lamented Doctor Seuss (if he wasn't dead he would be after reading halfway through Rio's creation). Rio had attacked the project with a gusto that made Ms. Tucker, her English instructor, hopeful that Rio was finally fitting in (read: conforming). Rio turned in the pornographic Tales of a Cat with a Really Big Hat on Tuesday. Ms. Tucker had flunked the effort and dragged Rio down to Doctor Victoria Scarlett's office but that senior educator had volleyed this time bomb into my lap. I promptly told them to pick an Advocate and get back to me after dinner. Rio Talon/Christina Buchanan's argument had been that the vagueness of the instructions allowed for a liberal interpretations of the assignment. Athena Varna (representing the rest of Ms. Tucker's class)/Joy Jefferson had argued that the standard was what 'any reasonable individual going to a Christian school would find acceptable' as their defense, which meant that it wasn't acceptable in their opinion. Two days of mediation went nowhere and I wasn't going to let this matter fester through the weekend. I had called all the concerned parties to join me after breakfast and received Doctor Scarlett's blessing for missing Assembly where many of the students and their families were gathered in our daily religious/social function. "Okay, I've given the matter serious thought and I saw merit to both arguments but I found Ms. Jefferson's argument to be the more compelling," I led off. "We live in a society; each person should be free and act with freedom but that cuts both ways, we have to give our society some support to retain our harmony. This is my judgment." "I would hope that since Rio did make an exceptional effort in her creative writing work that Ms. Tucker would consider allowing Rio one additional week to make up the assignment since this is one-quarter of her grade and her effort, while misdirected, was acknowledged as a vigorous attempt. That is my suggestion anyway," I said hopefully since I wasn't sure if I could instruct a teacher in any manner, much less order a do-over for Rio. It took a few seconds for my words to sink in. This was hardly re-writing the Charter of the Commonwealth of Virginia but it did mean I'd ruled against my best friend and the woman I wanted to marry and several girls looked at me in some disbelief that I hadn't gone that way. "Thank you Mediator," Joy was the first to offer me her hand, and she was still technically the enemy, being in the Traditionalist faction here at school. "Your argument carried the day, Joy. I'm pretty sure there was no favoritism involved," I smiled. "I will get you next time," Christina came up and shook Joy's hand. She turned and clasped my hand after that. "You were wiser than I thought you'd be," Christina winked to me. A few people came by and went through the same routine until Rio approached last of all. She hit me in the shoulder causing multiple heads to swivel our way. "You threw me under the bus Bitch," she laughed. "Don't look so surprised," I rubbed my shoulder, "you built the bus I rolled over you with, ya Deviant." Iona gave me a shy wave right before she slipped out to go meet her parents and most of the girls did likewise. Finally it was Ms. Goodswell, Christina, Faith, Rio and myself. "Faith and I will polish off the minutes of your final decision Zane," Christina said before turning her imperious head away and leading Faith out to do what seniors do. "So, are you two going to be hiding out all day?" Virginia Goodswell looked Rio and my way. "I would but two dozen over-eager and overly-endowed students have asked Zane to be available to meet their ancestors or some other such cheesy crap," Rio ranted. "Besides, I'm sure there is some law or ordinance that causes the rest of you to never leave me alone." "Yes Ms. Talon," Ms. Goodswell said with some gravity, "That is the Self-preservation Act of 1908. You are listed under 'Elements with Corrosive properties." "Woot!" Rio hollered, "I'm a corrosive influence!" "Thanks Virginia," I addressed my teacher and Spiritual Advisor, "like she needed more ammo." Goodswell laughed and headed out toward the main campus while Rio and I headed for our dorm. "I think I'm going to become a superhero," Rio teased me. "My X-ray vision will vaporize the panties off of unsuspecting stuck-up babes." "Wasn't there a time when heroes were heroes and villains were villains; none of this gray crap?" I half-grinned. "Zane," Rio sounded exasperated and but motherly aka Ma Barker, "you keep saving girls and they keep kicking you in the teeth." "I look at it as opportunity to get back up again," I smiled. "That's called masochism, look it up," Rio sneered. "Let's go to my room," I said, rather redundantly, as we'd reached the elevator door and I'd hit the button. Rio became oddly close to me as we got on board and even let me wrap an arm around her. For me, being parentless today required I convince Aunt Jill that parking would be a bitch and I'd see her Saturday night, we had our first Marksmanship outing tomorrow morning in Kentucky, so I'd would be back to have dinner with my sole family member. Rio's parents hadn't asked Rio if she wanted them to come. They hadn't made any contact at all, denying Rio the ability to scream at her parents and tell them to 'fuck off'. Adding to the misery, Mercy's parents were here and everyone in our close circle had convinced Rio that being close to Mercy would be disastrous, in the belief that Rio had poor impulse control, imagine that. When the end of Assembly sounded and the parents began exiting the building to join up with their kids, we proceeded to my Solarium level of the dorm. The parents would meet their girl's friends, teachers, & the key members of their various clubs. We opened my 'vault' door and Rio led me upstairs then gave a start. I slipped around her to see what the problem was, Cordelia Dresden. To her credit, Cordelia and her Time Lord Mafia had either been behaving or doing things in such a sneaky manner as to avoid my notice. Besides the three of us, only three freshmen girls occupied the rest of the floor, leaving us effectively alone. "Hi Rio!" Cordelia led off, "Zane, I only want you to know you have our full support," was her cryptic statement that I was still digesting when Rio hurled herself at the slender brunette. Cordelia cried out as Rio toppled them both to the floor. Rio rose up on her knees and slapped Cordelia across the face. "Get her off me," Cordelia screamed as she raised her hands to defend herself. "What's the fucking secret you're hiding?" Rio growled. "Yank Rio off me right now. Zane," Cordelia snapped as she took a second slap to the cheek. "You know what I can do." "Cordy, Rio wants to live free or die trying; so you might want to consider your next words carefully," I shrugged. "She prefers to exist free of fear. Rio, I'm going to the shake dispenser; do you want something?" "A strawberry shake sounds good," Rio smiled as she began pinning Cordelia's wrists down. Once she finished that maneuver, Rio glared triumphantly down at Cordelia. "Great," Cordelia met that glare with one of her own, "what's your next brilliant plan; a little sexual assault to go with your brazen attack?" "Nope, I'm going to drool spit on your face and ears Cordelia-baby," Rio answered then began swirling her tongue in her mouth to gather up her first glob of spit. "Zane," Cordelia pleaded. "Rio, let her up," I requested (Rio knew my vocal tones). "She's agreed to help you with your Mercy problem." Cordelia had done no such thing but Rio would need help dealing with her lover's parents and Cordelia could be a powerful ally. Cordelia could lie her way out of things, except she would be lying to me and our trust was a fragile thing. If it was just Rio, Cordy would lie in a heartbeat but I believed I was somewhat special to her. Cordy said nothing and Rio got off of her. It wasn't Rio's style to offer Cordelia a hand up even though she knocked her down. Rio joined me making shakes and grinned evilly. "Cordelia, do you want a shake," I called over to her. "Peach," she replied. Somewhat reluctantly she walked over to us. Cordelia, like Rio and me, had no parents coming. "So, are you going to tell Zane what your secret is or do we go for the best two out of three falls?" Rio sneered. "Let it be Rio," I nudged her. "It isn't something bad. If it was bad, she would have coughed it up already." "I don't know what you see in this wacky Whore," Rio asked me, with Cordelia standing beside us. "She's Ra's al Ghul to my Bruce Wayne," I explained. "How can I step beyond the streets of my own personal Gotham without her?" "Wait, does that mean I'm Harlequin?" Rio mused. "No, you are the Joker, Rio," Cordelia huffed, "and yes, that makes Mercy Harlequin." "Cordy, there are times I wish you weren't so evil and manipulative," Rio observed. "Titles such as Evil, like genius, are the hobgoblin of small minds," Cordelia countered. "Zane sees that, which is why I tolerate the rest of you." "You just want to play jockey to his thoroughbred," Rio snorted. "Never said I didn't," Cordelia bantered. Rio stole a look toward the door so I leaned into Cordelia. "Thank you," I whispered. Cordy nodded. "Pist," Rio hissed. "Iona is here with a slightly larger version of herself and two guys who look vaguely related to her as well." I looked over and there was Iona pointing what had to be her mother my way. She didn't look furious but she wasn't beaming sunshine and happiness at me either. "Scatter," Rio whispered. "Pissed off Momma on the way," before dashing off behind the showers. "I'm gone," Cordelia gasped playfully, took her peach shake and slunk away. Iona "Mr. Braxton?" this conservatively dressed woman with a slight build and shoulder length black hair addressed me. I'd seen a few pictures of her on Iona's Facebook page. "Mrs. Beckett, I am Glenn Zane Braxton, but please call me Zane. Your daughter is one of my closest friends." She seemed to mull that over, whether to be stiff or to give me a chance. "Zane, is there a place we can talk in private?" she inquired. "Absolutely," I nodded; then led her to the far corner and sat down on a sofa with her so that we could both look out over the changing leaves on campus. "Mr. Brax, Zane, what are your intentions with my daughter?" she came right out with it. "She was my second friend here and constantly supportive of my often precarious situation and she's never asked for anything in return," I stated. "I'd paint her house if she asked me," I continued, "or drive across country to help her move. She's that great a friend." I didn't brag about killing or even hurting someone for her, though I would, because that wasn't the kind of extreme friendship her Mom was looking for. "Very well, Zane; but I am worried about you and Iona in another way," she sidestepped. "You are an attractive young man and there are rumors that you have several girlfriends on campus." "I think I can answer the real question with three statements of my own; the only person I have ever called girlfriend is Heaven Vickers, a senior here. "I love Heaven's best friend, Christina Buchanan, and they are both aware of our relationship. Second, your daughter is the second-smartest, most level-headed, and most forward thinking young woman I have ever met; you have done a wonderful job raising her," I related. "Lastly, I have offered to have sex with your daughter twice and she's said 'no'." "You did?" she studied me intently. "And she was naked in bed with me both times. She's seen me have sex, too, but she's decided that when she's ready, she'll ask me and I'll say 'yes' because I'm positive that she will pick the moment when it is right for her and no one else." "Wha, what?" Mrs. Beckett's eyes grew wide. "Naked in bed with you? And nothing happened?" "Yes; but I felt safe because I trust her," I said calmly. "You have to admit she is diligent and organized and she's not going to simply jump feet first into anything." "I have to admit I was afraid you were taking advantage of my daughter's kind nature; but you seem oddly frank about everything you two have done. I admit I expected you to be, more deceptive and evasive," she mused. "Do you have sex with any of the girls on campus?" "Tons; though thankfully, things eased off with midterms approaching," I smiled. "Is that so," she said in a clearly questioning tone. "I want you to understand that Iona thinks the world of you. She writes home every day, and you often figure in her experiences, though I knew she was editing some things, like why she appears to be friends with Ms. Talon." "When we started out, Rio and I were doomed to be expelled but Iona joined with us and together we survived some really rough times." "I recall getting several letters from the Chancellor from that time. Was Iona in any danger?" she asked. "Yes, she got a pair of bloody knees but please believe a whole lot of us were looking out for her," I responded. "Trust me, Ion has a fair number of friends who appreciate her numerous qualities." "Mom," Ion called out as she came over. "I hope Zane hasn't been scaring you." "Iona, it is only that you didn't have many friends in High School," her mother smiled at her daughter. "Mom, I had no friends in high school, but Zane gave me the courage and opportunity to come out of my shell," Iona interrupted. "Zane says you two have been sleeping in his bed, naked," Iona's mother met her daughter with an even gaze. "Yes," Iona blushed furiously, "but I bet he's also informed you that we haven't had sex," she leaned into her mother, "and there he lied." Mrs. Beckett stared at me, a bit peeved. "Mom, that is only because what Zane considers sex and what you would consider sex are two slightly different things. Suffice it to say, I am still a virgin as far as the marriage bed is concerned," Iona assured her parent. "And I have Zane well in hand, because I have control of his phone." "I keep telling you that smarts count for more to in life than a model's good looks," Iona's mother reminded her daughter. "I'm glad Iona has both," I chimed in. Both women looked my way then grinned. "He is such a good friend, Mother; that I forgive his exaggerations," Iona reached over and kindly touched my cheek. As that gesture ended, Iona's face grew shocked. "Mom, I think we need to go see Mrs. Worsham's class now, if we are going to get everything taken care of before lunch," Iona hurried her mother. "It was nice to meet you Zane," we shook hands as we both stood as well. Hope I followed Iona's gaze and my heart stopped. It was Hope, looking so do-able in her school-wear. With her were a petite woman, smaller and maybe a bit heavier than Hope, three more little Hope's in descending age and lastly, a male version of Hope, but this one was made out of Lego bricks, really big Lego bricks, it was Yeong Song. Yeong Song had charisma in spades; he wasn't the Angel of Death, he had grabbed that punk by the short and curlies and taken over his job. That was how he appeared to me at that moment. Oh yeah and he was looking right through me. As if on cue, Hope smiled and whispered something to her father and they both came my way. Imagine a choreographed interpretive dance troupe; you had Hope's three younger sisters spread out over the middle half of the room, having fun with some of the few freshmen girls that were hanging around. Yeong was like his eldest daughter in the way they moved, you could tell they were walking toward you but I couldn't recall their feet moving or even hearing footfalls. That was probably just my fear speaking. From personal experience I knew Hope was human with all our frailties and imperfections, she was simply more perfect than most. "Father, this is my good friend Glenn Zane Braxton, who is known by the name Zane to both his friends and enemies," demurred Hope. "Zane, this is my Father, Major of the Republic of Korea, retired, Yeong Song," she introduced her father to me. I extended my hand, he took it in a granite grip and gave it two sharp shakes. I stood there like an idiot but at least my heart was beating and I was breathing again. "Your pulse is racing young man, your palms are sweaty and you are staring at me with dilated pupils," Yeong noted dispassionately. "Well, since I've lain down with your naked daughter for a variety of bedroom antics on several occasions; I naturally assumed you had come here to kill me," I blathered. "You have been naked with my eldest daughter," he said in a way that could be contrived as a statement or a question. "You didn't know?" I groaned. I wondered if this counted as suicide. "You have honorable intentions toward my daughter," he informed me. Huh? "No," I gulped. "I was thinking we could fool around, mainly." "I understand you are the last of your line," he glared at me. Uh oh, wait. "You know who I am, so you must have already been told by Hope what's really been going on," I breathed a sigh of relief. "See Father, Zane's not dense," Hope hugged her father's arm, "he's simply terrified of you." "I noticed," Yeong almost smiled. "Mr. Braxton, I don't mind you seeing my daughter socially, but please learn at least to fight as well as my youngest daughter, she's nine." "You learn from people who are better than you, not from people you are

This week Andrew talks with New York Times bestselling author Margaret George. Over the years, Margaret has become one of the best in the world at her craft. All six of her novels have been New York Times bestsellers — and one of her books was turned into an Emmy-nominated ABC TV miniseries. This conversation is a behind-the-scenes look at how one of the world's most successful novelists performs her craft.  It's filled with powerful stories & ideas that apply far beyond writing. ** Follow Andrew **Instagram: @AndrewMoses123Twitter/X: @andrewhmosesSign up for e-mails to keep up with the podcast at everybodypullsthetarp.com/newsletterDISCLAIMER: This podcast is solely for educational & entertainment purposes. It is not intended to be a substitute for the advice of a physician, psychotherapist, or other qualified professional.

Discover how to avoid preachy storytelling while keeping your message powerful. Zena Del Lowe shares tips for letting your characters discover truths naturally, engage audiences, and drive the plot — without lecturing.

Here's what we're reading, recommending, and revisiting this week.Catherine's library find is a pair of twisty, plot-filled novels. She recommends them both: A Very Inconvenient Scandal by Jacquelyn Mitchard and All the Other Mothers Hate Me by Sarah Harman.​Terri's random recommendation is another book: A memoir by TV and film producer Ed Zwick called Hits, Flops, and Other Illusions: My Fortysomething Years in Hollywood. Bonus content: You can hear our thoughts on Dancing with the Stars every Tuesday night on YouTube; here's our chat on this week's episode, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Night. Mentioned: Mournful covers of "Hey Ya," "Take on Me," and "Love Shack.".​In the archives, we checked in on an episode from 2021, Parent Saving Time.Next week's lineup: Lost S4 E3, "The Economist," on Tuesday, November 11The Lowdown S1 E1, "Pilot" on Wednesday, November 12Weekly roundup on Thursday, November 13Until then (and anytime you're in need), the archives are available.

In this episode Miles is joined by Anne Rowe (University of Chichester/Kingston), Rachel Hirschler (Kinston University) and Rosanna Hilyard (Chatto & Windus) to celebrate the publication of 'Poems from An Attic: Selected Poems 1936-1995', published today by Chatto and Windus. https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/470920/poems-from-an-attic-by-murdoch-iris/9781784746124 ANNE ROWE is Visiting Professor at the University of Chichester and Emeritus Research Fellow with the Iris Murdoch Archive Project at Kingston University. She has published widely on Iris Murdoch, including The Visual Arts and the Novels of Iris Murdoch (2002), Iris Murdoch in the Writers and Their Work series (2019) and most recently is Co-Editor of Poems from an Attic: Selected Poems 1936-1995 by Iris Murdoch (2025). Rachel Hirschler works at the Kingston University archives and is lead transcriber for Murdoch's poetry and much else besides. Rosanna Hilyard is Assistant Editor at Chatto and Windus, and has been shepherding Poems from an Attic to publication. Her fiction and non-fiction has appeared in The Isis Magazine, The Northern Echo, and several anthologies including Tactical Reading, Adrift and Outside Of Me.

Send us a textIn this engaging episode of Living the Dream with Curveball, we welcome John DeDakis, a seasoned journalist, novelist, and writing coach with an impressive 45-year career in journalism, including a notable tenure as a White House correspondent. John shares his unique journey from aspiring lawyer to accomplished writer, detailing how his experiences in the military and journalism shaped his creative voice. He discusses the evolution of journalism in the digital age, the challenges of transitioning from reporting to fiction writing, and the importance of authenticity in storytelling. Listeners will gain insights into his six mystery suspense novels, which tackle themes of grief, resilience, and the complexities of female identity. John also opens up about his upcoming projects, including a memoir and his motivational speaking endeavors aimed at using writing as a healing tool for those facing grief. Tune in for a thought-provoking conversation that inspires creativity, self-expression, and the courage to share your story.www.johndedakis.com

Bridget, Caitlin, and Hilda wrap up "Anathema," book 1 in Keri Lake's Eating Woods duology. Listen now for all their thoughts and feelings and whether or not they think you should read this even though Spooky Season has come to an end.  Join our Patreon for exclusive behind-the-scenes content and let's be friends!Instagram > @Booktokmademe_podTikTok > @BooktokMadeMe

Helen Schulman is an acclaimed novelist, screenwriter, short story writer and New York Times Bestselling author. In my 40th episode, we talk about the concept of "sympathetic happiness", as she shares her impactful encounter with the Dalai Lama many years back.  She was visiting Portland, Oregon for the first time, exploring the city, when she basically stumbled over His Holiness: he was giving a free public audience in Pioneer Square, Helen had never heard him speak before so she stuck around. His topic was "sympathetic happiness". The idea being that if you can join in the happiness of others, your own happiness will multiply. His deceptively simple and profound theories really struck her - she had been teaching grad school for quite awhile by then, and realised that if she could be really happy for her students' successes, if their joy became her joy her life would become fuller and richer and well, happier. She always felt happy for them, but now she could focus on also being happy through them. It was a small good thing that happened to her that day, but it has really affected the rest of her life and her work as an educator.Once Helen understood this concept, it made it easier and more compelling for her to build programs that she thought would help her students reach their dreams, and also, pragmatically, help them find agents and editors, and outside work.Helen also talks about her new book "Fools for Love" that was just published in July during this recording, and she had a book launch at Rizzoli's in New York City. It's a collection of short stories, that she edited and interconnected so that they relate to each other. She also shares how she learned how to waltz from her grandmother, and how she relearned it with her husband last year in a dance class in a beautiful castle in the South of Germany (she wrote a piece about this for the Condé Nast Traveller).HELEN SCHULMAN is a novelist, screenwriter and short story writer. A collection of stories, Fools for Love, has been published by Knopf in July 2025. Prior to publication, the title story was published in The Atlantic. Her newest novel, Lucky Dogs, was one of Oprah Daily's top ten novels of 2023. She is also the author of the novels Come With Me (San Francisco Chronicle ten best books of 2019) This Beautiful Life (a New York Times and International Best Seller), A Day At The Beach, P.S., (made into a motion picture starring Laura Linney, Gabriel Byrne, Paul Rudd and Marcia Gay Harden, for which Professor Schulman has a screenwriting credit), The Revisionist and Out Of Time (Barnes and Noble Discovery), and the short story collection Not A Free Show. She co-edited the anthology Wanting A Child with Jill Bialosky. Her fiction and non-fiction have appeared in such places as Vanity Fair, Time, Vogue, GQ, The New York Times Book Review, A Public Space and The Paris Review. She is the Fiction Chair at The Writing Program at The New School where she is a tenured Professor of Writing. She is also the Executive Director of WriteOnNYC.com. A 2019 Guggenheim Fellow, Professor Schulman has been a NYFA Fellow, Sundance Fellow, Aspen Words Fellow, a Tennessee Williams Fellow (Columbia University) and the recipient of a Pushcart Prize.####On another note: I am so proud and excited to announce that SHIFT HAPPENS' Season 5 is supported by London based jewellery brand Tilly Sveaas. Its founder, Tilly Sveaas creates gorgeous, timeless pieces that have been featured in Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Marie Claire, The Times, The New York Times etc. … Her jewellery is for women of all ages. Guess who is wearing it too: noone less then Taylor Swift. Go to www.tillysveaas.co.uk and use my code SHIFTHAPPENS to get 15% off. To learn more about my guest Helen Schulman, please visit her Wikipedia page.To learn more about SHIFT HAPPENS, click here To learn more about Claudia's business Curated Conversations and her Salons in New York, Zurich and Berlin, click hereYou can also connect with Claudia on Instagram @shifthappens.podcast and LinkedIn at ClaudiaMahlerNYCThis podcast is created, produced and hosted by Claudia Mahler.

Nick Jeffery and John Granger do a Compare and Contrast test of the latest Cormoran Strike novel, The Hallmarked Man, and the previous seven books in Rowling-Galbraith's longest series of novels. Adapting a list of ‘Greatest Hits' moments from the first ‘Reading, Writing, Rowling' podcast John did with Katie McDaniel and a panel of Potter Pundits in Roanoke, Virginia, Nick and John share their favorite moments first from the series and then from Strike 8 before contrasting the quality of these highlights.The point of the exercise? Besides being a fun review of Strike-Ellacott adventures, a Greatest Hits collection of their highs and lows, Agency cases and sub-contractors included, the absence of any Hallmarked Man moments that merit a ‘Best in Series' badge suggests that Strike 8 will be remembered best for how it set up Strikes 9 and 10.Whatever your thoughts about that thesis, please share the scenes on your Greatest Hits list, both for the series and Hallmarked Man, per the numbered categories below. Nick and John have a few more to run through that they couldn't get to on their first ‘go' at this; feel free to share categories they should discuss in addition to the ones listed here:* Top Pat Chauncey scene* The One Scene that You Remember Most Often or ‘That Changed Your Life'* Top ‘Text-within-a-Text'* Funniest Scene* Top ‘Drop the Book' moment* Best ‘Narrative misdirection/Ostrananie' Moment* Conclusion: Series and Hallmarked manJohn is working on his charting of Hallmarked Man for the paid subscriber list as well as reviewing and revising his 2017 online course, ‘Wizard Reading Formula.' More on those projects and the Kanreki Series in his next conversation with Nick; stay tuned!Links to Ideas, Posts, and Theories Mentioned* Talbot's ‘True Book' in Troubled Blood* Kathryn Kent's weblog post in The Silkworm* The Goldfish in the Agency Office* Running Grave and Hallmarked Man overlaps, and Ryan Murphy's involvement.* Three Take-Aways from Hallmarked Man: What We Know Readers will say in Ten Years about Strike 8 Get full access to Hogwarts Professor at hogwartsprofessor.substack.com/subscribe

Brooke and Tyler investigate one of the most powerful figures in the entire Cosmere and what it truly means to be a Dawnshard. Rsyn's interlude may have been short but her clash with Hoid is immensely important to both the future and past of the Cosmere. #AllSpoilers Support this podcast by becoming a Patron on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/CosmereConversations) Original music by David Gruwier (https://twitter.com/DGruwier). "Radiant" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5CFAZUv4C0) by David Gruwier.

This week on Sunday Night Teacher Talk, we're unpacking what it really looks like to build a classroom and school culture from the ground up—especially when you're new to the building. CJ shares updates on how shared experiences like lunch invites, Spirit Week, and hallway antics are shaping connection at his new school.Other big topics this week include how to use ChatGPT to streamline grading while still giving meaningful feedback, what to do when group work falls apart, how to scaffold large writing tasks for struggling students, and why you don't need to post the Ten Commandments to live your values in the classroom.As always, we're getting real about the teacher life, student behavior, faith, and showing up with joy—one week at a time.

There will be no explanation of the title. Join the AniTAY crew to learn more, and to explore the Fall 2025 Anime Season! This episode's members: Hybridmink, Requiem, Marquan and DocKev with Reikaze handling the editing duties.The AniTAY Podcast is a bi-weekly podcast brought to you every other Wednesday. It is available on all your favorite podcast services! If you like us, be sure to subscribe to your favorite service and give us 5 stars! Your support is much appreciated and will help us grow and continue to provide this style of content.ItineraryIntro: 0:00:00–0:01:05Housekeeping : 0:01:05–0:04:34ShowsA Star Brighter Than the Sun : 0:04:34–0:09:27SANDA : 0:09:27–0:15:40Touring After the Apocalypse : 0:15:40–0:24:14Dad is a Hero, Mom is a Spirit, I'm a Reincarnator : 0:24:14–0:27:26Wandance : 0:27:26–0:31:35GNOSIA : 0:31:35–0:36:31Hybrid Grab Bag : 0:36:31–0:39:01My Status as an Assassin Obviously Exceeds the Hero's 0:39:01–0:44:42One-Punch Man Season 3 : 0:44:42–0:47:39SPY x FAMILY Season 3 : 0:47:39–0:56:46The Dark History of the Reincarnated Villainess : 0:56:46–0:59:26Magic Knight Rayearth 0:59:26–1:01:15Question of the week: Which property deserves a better anime adaptation than what it got? 1:01:15–1:25:41End 1:25:41–1:27:08Missed the previous episode of the AniTAY Podcast? Check it out here: https://medium.com/anitay-official/anitay-podcast-s10-e17-enshitificationand-the-fecal-charge-d168c4582ace

Welcome back! This week, after the rigamarole, Ron wonders if there were any good things to come out of the COVID pandemic. Chris wants to know 10 pieces of media to get to know us. As always, please like, subscribe, and share with your friends. Come join the discussions on the Discord Channel (https://discord.gg/TbxA7gcUky) and follow us on Twitter, @cltruitt22. Thanks and take care!

650. Nathalie Dessens is returning to her work on Gentilly and Creole New Orleans through the recent publication of Gentilly: A New Orleans Plantation in the French Atlantic World, 1818-1851 (a book she co-edited and translated with Virginia Meacham Gould. It features letters from the manager of the Gentilly plantation, providing insight into 19th-century plantation life and its connection to the city. Dessens is a historian who has previously written on the topic in her book Creole City: A Chronicle of Early American New Orleans. Nathalie Dessens is professor of history at the University of Toulouse. Now available: Liberty in Louisiana: A Comedy. The oldest play about Louisiana, author James Workman wrote it as a celebration of the Louisiana Purchase. Now it is back in print for the first time in 221 years. Order your copy today! This week in the Louisiana Anthology. Katharine B. Judson. Myths and Legends of the Mississippi Valley. "The Hunter and the Alligator." ALL the hunters in a village killed many deer one winter, except one man. This one saw many deer. Sometimes he drew his bow and shot at them; yet they escaped.    Now this hunter had been away from his village three days. He had seen many deer; not one had he killed. On the third day, when the sun was hot over his head, he saw an alligator. Alligator was in a dry, sandy spot. He had had no water for many days. He was dry and shriveled.    Alligator said to the hunter, “Where can water be found?” The hunter said, “In that forest, not far away, is cold water.”    “I cannot go there alone,” said Alligator. “Come nearer. Do not fear.” The hunter went nearer, but he was afraid.    “You are a hunter,” said Alligator, “but all the deer escape you. Carry me into the water, and I will make you a great hunter. You shall kill many deer.”     The hunter was still afraid. Then he said, “I will carry you, but first I must bind you so that you cannot scratch me; and your mouth, so that you cannot bite me.”    So Alligator rolled over on his back and let the hunter bind him. He fastened his legs and mouth firmly. Then he carried Alligator on his shoulders to the water in the forest. He unfastened the cords and threw him in.    Alligator came to the surface three times. He said, “Take your bow and arrow and go into the woods. You will find a small doe. Do not kill it. Then you will find a large doe. Do not kill it. You will meet a small buck. Do not kill that. Then you will meet a large, old buck. Kill that.”    The hunter took his bow and arrow. Everything happened just as Alligator had foretold. Then he killed the large, old buck. So he became a very great hunter. There was always venison in his wigwam. This week in Louisiana history. November 1, 1966. New Orleans Saints become 16th NFL football team. This week in New Orleans history. Second TV station in New Orleans goes on the air on Sunday, November 1, 1953. What is currently known as WVUE-TV FOX 8 began life on All Saints Day, 1953, as the second television station to sign on in the city of New Orleans — originally under the call letters WJMR-TV on the dial position Channel 61 (The Crescent City's first UHF signal), broadcasting live TV programs from CBS, ABC and DuMont networks. This week in Louisiana. 31st Annual Holy Ghost Creole Festival. November 7-9, 2025 600 N Oak St, Hammond, LA 70401 Phone: (985) 345-3360 Creole Festival Raffle Drawing Sunday, November 9, 2025 Donations $2.00/ticket Tickets are available after all weekend masses and at the Parish Office Creole Festival Parade Sunday, November 9, 2025 Dinner Tickets Friday, Nov 7 Fried Fish Saturday & Sunday, Nov. 8-9 BBQ Pork Steak or Chicken Pork Stew Beat the ticket line and get your tickets early. Tickets are available at the church office or after all weekend masses. Postcards from Louisiana. "Walking to New Orleans." Brennan's brunch band. Listen on Apple Podcasts. Listen on audible. Listen on Spotify. Listen on TuneIn. Listen on iHeartRadio. The Louisiana Anthology Home Page. Like us on Facebook. 

Pete Trainor joins the book club to discuss Realm of the Damned by Alec Worley and Pye Parr. Check out Alec's Substack for great notes on horror. The Sons of Balaur music is on Youtube and you can find Pete on his website and on Bluesky.You can find a list of all the upcoming books on the Facebook page, follow the podcast on instagram, Threads, Mastodon, and BlueSky. And email me comments and suggestions to MCBCpodcast@gmail.comMusic used in this episode is Circuit Breaker by the artist Robodub. Click here to listen to the episode online. Or Download here Right click and choose save link as to download to your computer.

Agatha Christie, Ethel Lina White, and sad books – welcome to episode 143! In the first half, we use Geraldine’s suggestion – do we avoid books that will upset us? In the second half, we compare They Came To Baghdad by Agatha