Podcasts about Saturday Afternoon

Joe Zagacki and Don Bailey Jr are back from calling the Spring football game last Saturday Afternoon. They recap the game, the roster, and everything. They talk about the upcoming season the canes will have and how everyone is excited to go to Dallas to play SMU. Alex Donno from Locked On Miami Hurricanes talks to Locked On Irish host Tyler Wojciak to talk about Miami Notre Dame week 1 of the College Football Season.

Joe Zagacki and Don Bailey Jr are back from calling the Spring football game last Saturday Afternoon. They recap the game, the roster, and everything.

Coverage of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ Saturday Afternoon General Conference. The dust has settled, the teleprompters are cooling down, and the Tabernacle has gone quiet once more. Now it's time for the real analysis. PLEASE CONSIDER SUPPORTING RADIO FREE MORMON BY DONATING HERE – https://donorbox.org/radio-free-mormon In this episode of Radio Free… Read More »April 2025 Saturday Afternoon LDS General Conference Post-Mortem

Coverage of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ Saturday Afternoon General Conference. The dust has settled, the teleprompters are cooling down, and the Tabernacle has gone quiet once more. Now it's time for the real analysis. PLEASE CONSIDER SUPPORTING RADIO FREE MORMON BY DONATING HERE – https://donorbox.org/radio-free-mormon In this episode of Radio Free… Read More »April 2025 Saturday Afternoon LDS General Conference Post-Mortem The post April 2025 Saturday Afternoon LDS General Conference Post-Mortem appeared first on Mormon Discussions Podcasts - Full Lineup.

Whenever Floodster Emerita Michelle Hoge makes one of her rare treks back to West Virginia, it's a good excuse to try to land a gig somewhere at which the band's beloved “chick singer” can be the guest star.This time the good folks at Charleston's Edgewood Summit retirement community accommodated that mission, and yesterday the entire Family Flood rolled into that gorgeous facility for an afternoon of tunes, laughs and stories.Sitting in front row, Flood manager Pamela Bowen shots video. Here are four numbers from the show. Incidentally, if you'd like the history of these four tunes, here are links to earlier articles in the newsletter's Song Stories section:* “Peggy Day”* “My Blue Heaven”* “All of Me”* “Up a Lazy River”Yesterday's gig was a return visit to Edgewood for The Flood. Michelle and the band had a similar music party there in October 2023. Click here if you'd like to see a video from that earlier do. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit 1937flood.substack.com

Reaction to Saturday's Scottish football as Celtic & Aberdeen returned to winning ways, St Mirren hammer Kilmarnock, plus Rangers edge a seven goal thriller at Dens Park.

Ken breaks down the Signalgate Scandal, how to fix the millennial generation, and how A.I. can be an asset for humanity.

Ken breaks down the Signalgate Scandal, how to fix the millennial generation, and how A.I. can be an asset for humanity.

Ken breaks down the Signalgate Scandal, how to fix the millennial generation, and how A.I. can be an asset for humanity.

Post-match reaction to Motherwell's win at Ibrox as Celtic stretch their lead to 16 points. A big win for Ross County & bottom two Dundee and St Johnstone share the spoils.

It's been a while, not gonna lie. You're all what brought things back, innit.

Welcome to the Jesus Church in Watertown, South Dakota!Join us for service at: 500 14th Ave NW, Watertown, SD 57201 https://goo.gl/maps/WgUmDc1iH7jB8za98Our Service Times: Sunday Morning Service at 10:00 am CDT Sunday Main Service at 11:00 am CDT Wednesday Service at 7:00 pm CDTYou can find us online at: Website: https://jesuschurchsd.org/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JesusChurchSD Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jesuschurchsd/

On the latest RAW Guy Drinkel is joined by Karl Matchett & Dave Hendrick to discuss the 4-0 win over Accrington Stanley in the FA Cup. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Where can the Texans grab the high ground vs the LA Chargers in Saturday's playoff game in H-Town??

Heritage of Faith Ministries International || Witbank  Pastor John Bendixen Preaching at Heritage of Faith Ministries International Witbank on.  2024-12-14 Saturday Afternoon - Ps John Bendixen - WTB  For more information: https://hofmi.net/ 

It's another edition of the Saturday Afternoon extravaganza with Ken Broo!

Thanksgiving Service Saturday Afternoon (Ronald Lawrence)

It's another edition of the Saturday Afternoon Extravaganza with your host, Ken Broo!

Patching things up with Yasmin  and  Nikita plus complications. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Strength is equal parts Body and the Mind, but true strength comes from a relentless Spirit.” (Late Saturday Morning) "Why is she here?" Yasmin asked me, giving a nod toward Buffy. Buffy was a good ten meters away, technically fulfilling her duty as my bodyguard. Yasmin had agreed to meet me at a park. "Her name is Buffy Dubois and she's my bodyguard for the weekend," I explained. "At least I'm back at my apartment." "What happens with her if you don't go back to work Monday?" Yasmin inquired. "Does your 'bodyguard' kill you?" "Nah, not Buffy," I gave a lop-sided grin. "My co-workers believe in overkill. I bet they'll send at least three to make it nice, swift and quiet." "Why do you joke about this?" Yasmin studied me. "As opposed to what?" I chuckled. "Lashing out is futile. Running isn't much better. I chose to fight when I must, love when I can and laugh when I should be crying." "Do you think they will come after me?" she murmured. What Yasmin really wanted to know was if her 3-year old son was in danger. From everything I'd learned and seen about Yasmin, she was tough as nails. I had given this some serious thought. I couldn't read Katrina's, or Hayden's minds, so I had to go on my limited experience. Yasmin had seen and heard a great deal yet Elsa let her walk away, and that had definitely been Elsa's doing. Elsa was the worst kind of racial Supremacist; the benevolent one. She didn't base her status on some pseudo-scientific mumbo-jumbo. She based it on the feats of her ancestors, the training she had endured and the devotion she and her sisters dedicated to their craft; violence. She was better than the rest of humanity because she could kill us if she desired and take what she wanted. We had what we had, even our lives, because she allowed it and she had no orders to the contrary. That was her generosity; her benevolent act. "Might," I sighed. "If I fuck up my balancing act, they might use you to hurt me, or as an object lesson." Yasmin's face clouded with anger. "Why did you invite me over if you thought things would develop this way?" Yasmin glared. "Not being insane, I cannot fathom the minds of the insane," I reasoned. "As soon as I find a way around one challenge, they throw up something new. I certainly didn't know there was a 'members only' facility along with a gym for the rest of us peons." She looked down at her hands. "They really are some kind of crazy cult," she muttered. She sighed. "You can't get out and now they know I exist; this is screwed up. What are we going to do?" She could be referring to herself and her son, or herself and me. "I've got some money," I said. "A few thousand. I can get you plane tickets and you two can take off somewhere safer than here." "You are a real man," Yasmin slowly smiled. What? Sensing my confusion. "You take responsibility for your actions, protect the weak and those in need, and you are brave in the face of pain and adversity. Where I come from, that is the definition of a man." "Funny; where I come from that is the definition of bad Hollywood scriptwriting," I grinned. "Ha," she laughed. She'd decided to stick around and fuck me despite the specter of eminent death. She was not callous to the fate of her child. Far from it. The only ally she had in this fight was me. She'd beat the fuck out of her husband with a bullet in her shoulder. When surrounded by hostile Amazons she still struggled to get to my side. "What about your Jason Statham?" she prodded. "He's English. Besides, I prefer Chiaki Kuriyama," I eyebrow pumped. "There is something about a chick with cast-iron balls." "Who?" Yasmin searched her memories. "Gogo Yubari from Kill Bill Volume 1," I informed her. Yasmin thought that over. "That girl was clearly insane!" she thumped my chest. "Believe me, female mental health issues have never stopped me in the past," I shrugged. "I'm beginning to think you have low standards," Yasmin smirked. "That implies you think more of me than most women who actually know me," I snorted. "Let's go get something to eat. There is a place that serves authentic Acarajé and Vatapá close by," Yasmin stood and took my hand. I went with her. "So, what are those things you mentioned?" I asked. "You'll have to wait and find out. I owe you a few dozen surprises after what you've put me through," she teased. After a few seconds, I started laughing. Yasmin was confused. "As bad as it is going to be for me, think how rough it is going to be on Buffy," I chuckled. "As far as I know, she doesn't even speak Portuguese, much less traveled to Brazil." The restaurant taught me a few things. Yasmin was a regular, the men knew her and were afraid of her. A little bit of eye-ball psychology taught me that Yasmin was apparently a one woman domestic abuse arbitrator. Translation: if you were a man who hit your wife, or girlfriend, she pointed you to the closest Emergency Room after she was done with you. In Brazil, men could use the 'machismo' defense; basically, the bitch had it coming because she threatened my manhood. In Yasmin's New York City, machismo worked a 'little' differently. Essentially, there wasn't a 'straight' Brazilian man alive who would admit that Yasmin, a woman, had beat the ever-living Hell out of them. The Brazilian ladies who stopped by introduced me to another quaint Yasmin term. It was called 'parroting'. Parroting was what happened when some asshole became a real, repeat problem. Yasmin dragged them to the roof of whatever building she found the dumbass in and threw him off; technically aiming for the closest dumpster. The men often flapped and squawked like parrots as the plummeted down, thus the term. Women were stopping by because I appeared to be an aberration; a man on a date with Yasmin. Best of all, 80% of the conversation in a language I didn't know. The first serious question thus caught me out of the blue. "Do you date many women?" one sultry number purred. "I'm not sure I would say 'many'," responded after some feigned concentration. "I only date women from Manhattan; and the Tri-State Area; pretty much the East Coast; and the Ohio Valley and the Mississippi Valley. I should include the Deep South; okay, maybe every women this side of the Rockies; and the West Coast; Hawaii and Alaska would be a change of pace as well." "I've met some nice Asian girls," I continued to muse, "and South America is looking real promising at the moment. At this point," I looked over the small clique of women hanging about, "ignoring Africa, Europe, India and the Middle East would be short-sighted." "Do you fuck as good as you exaggerate, (along with some pet name I didn't know)?" the waitress asked. I could so do her. "No," I sighed. "I'm a virgin boy fresh out of Catholic School and have never known the intimate touch of a woman." For a second, they all wanted to believe that. Guys aren't the only ones who want to 'break in' a virgin, believe me. I've used the 'I'm a nervous virgin uncertain if I want to attempt sex' mystique more than once. It is a win-win. Sexually under-confident women know they won't be judged against any other women and when the sex becomes stellar, they think they are great teachers so they become more willing to experiment. After all, if they get it wrong, I; the young virgin; won't know the difference. Now, it is not that I always lie. It is just that the truth doesn't normally get me what I want. As an example, if a girl is terrible at giving a blowjob; don't tell her that. Tell her she's doing fine, but maybe this (a technique you know works) might feel different (i.e. better/less painful). Sure, I lied to her. Instead of making her upset and not want to continue in the art of fellatio, she learned a valuable lesson and will not only make me happy, she'll make happy every other man she is with later. Others can keep their slavish devotion to honesty. I'd rather dispense happiness. Besides, I'll give them other reasons to be pissed with me soon enough. "Hardly," Yasmin laughed. "I imagine the closest you've come to religion is thanking God when you've discovered your date had a horny sister and was willing to share." "Wow; break room talk much," I had the decency to appear embarrassed. "Why yes," Yasmin smirked. "Ms. Reichmann was very expressive in her recounting of your bedroom antics with her and her sister after the sister's date passed out." "To be fair, I hadn't had sex all day and I was kind of wound up," I offered up. "Do you like toying with women's affections?" my original questioner asked. "Wha; wait," I frowned. "You think I'm going out with Yasmin because I want to have sex with her?" Of course I was. "She's interesting and we both practice Brazilian jujutsu." "Why would I hunt down a studio when I found a perfectly good practitioner on the job? Plus, my work place had the sparring mats," I explained. Remember, when lying, tell a lie your audience wants to believe. Yasmin was a feminine titan, standing alone (with her son) against a hostile male world. The women around me counted on that. Dating a hot, physically fit hunk for the purpose of sexual gratification was totally realistic. Dating me because I knew her martial arts style was far less believable, but made them happier, so they went with option B; the workout buddy. "The truth must be like gold to you," Yasmin snickered. "It is so valuable, you hardly ever use it." She looked at her buddies. "I have wrestled him to the mat and he was VERY interested." "Yasmin, that wasn't me hard. When aroused, I'm much bigger," I pleaded. "Liar," she smacked me in the bicep. "I need to take care of something. Don't run off with him," she told the girls; in English; for my benefit. Yasmin left our small table and headed for Buffy who was leaning against the wall right inside the doorway. I couldn't overhear what they were saying. Buffy smiled, nodded and took a table. A minute later, Yasmin had ordered food for Buffy then came back my way. "Is that your girlfriend?" my waitress asked. Why she wasn't working wasn't clear to me. "No, she's his bodyguard," Yasmin interrupted. "Yes, she is," I countered half a second later. I looked at Yasmin. "You know that woman who beat me into the ground?" I met Yasmin's gaze. She nodded. "Well, she was giving Buffy crap for all kinds of reason; only peripherally for befriending me. I didn't have sex with her to get back at that lady. I did it because she needed me and I needed her. After this, we can't engage in intercourse for; 71 days. It's complicated." "Sex with you is some sort of gift?" another one taunted. "Absolutely," I grinned. "Ask every other woman I've been with. Hell, they love me so much, when we break up they normally take some sort of weapon to me, books being the most popular, but I've been shot at, stabbed, punched, slapped and wracked too." There was a moment of silence. Yasmin had her own war story that was well known. "I've seen him naked," Yasmin's smile cut through the tension. "He has the scars to prove it." "You peeked when we were changing?" I gasped. I wasn't really all that surprised. "Yes," she snickered. "They only have Women's changing rooms where Cáel works," she related to the other ladies. The conversation may have flipped back to Portuguese yet the words were definitely descriptive. Either that, or my penis had slipped passed my zipper and the buttons on my shirt had burst off exposing my broad chest and rock hard abs. Yasmin looked at me and said, "É o meu P.A." The girls all laughed. "Anyone going to clue me in on the joke?" I requested. By mutual consensus, they agreed not to; bitches. For a while, this man had been yelling from the kitchen. If finally dawned on me, and our waitress, the cook had been calling her to pick up her orders. I could have ignored her short denim skirt and seductive sway of the hips, but that would have been disingenuous. Besides, in some cultures, if your 'man' wasn't noticing the women around you, he was somewhat less of a man. I unleashed my inner 'machismo' and oinked. Yasmin shoved me while laughing. The other women found my being distracted amusing as well. I could really get used to Brazilian culture especially when that included Brazilian women. After lunch, we picked up Buffy on the way out. Buffy 'thanked' Yasmin; in Portuguese. Mother-fucker. That was so unfair. Never one to miss an opportunity to make a bad situation better; or worse, I asked Buffy what 'É o meu P.A.' meant. Buffy said something to Yasmin in Portuguese. Yasmin responded. They both laughed; bitches. "It is a term of endearment," Buffy assured me. Sure it was. That is why neither one would tell me what it meant; I repeat yet again; bitches. [FYI: 'É o meu P.A.' (P.A. stands for Pinto Amigo) literally means 'my friend Penis (or) my penis friend'. In Brazilian Portuguese slang (many thanks to a buddy from Portugal who saved me from a grievous linguistic error) this is a term of sexual endearment indicating trust and a sexual history, but don't tell Cáel that.] Yasmin and I walked a ways before she had to head in a different direction. We kissed. I kept my hands firmly on her hips like a good boy. She put her hand down my pants and stroked my cock for about a minute, in public. "Next time, I think we have sex," Yasmin winked before departing. I watched her walk away until she vanished in the crowd. She didn't look back. She was far too confident. "Well, she seems nice," Buffy caught me off-guard. She'd snuck up while I was watching Yasmin and she was still being so horribly friendly to me. Best of all, she assured me she'd be back to her normally aggressive self-come Monday morning; right about the time I finally got used to her being nice to me. "Yeah; she is," I sighed. "What's wrong?" Buffy inquired compassionately. "What do you mean?" I stared evenly at Buffy. "Hanging out with me could get her killed, that's what's wrong." "That's not likely to happen," Buffy to reassure me. I shook my head. "I'd ask you if you were nuts, but I know you are nuts," I grunted. "Elsa wouldn't kill you yet she'd kill Yasmin and her son without batting an eye if she felt a severe lesson was in order. Buffy, you work for animals. We both do. The difference being that you are one." "I don't think you appreciate how popular you are with the company," Buffy insisted. "You've worked really hard to impress them and they value your efforts." I screamed to the Heavens. Elsewhere, I would have drawn some serious looks. In NYC, I barely drew any notice. "Yeah; great. Remind me to clap like a pet seal Monday morning. Buffy, you, Katrina and a few others are grinning, thinking you've made great strides on this New Directive and the crime for a security guard shooting me as I walk in the office every day is the same; a transfer to someplace less pleasant. Correct me if I'm wrong," I laid into her. "The difference is that they don't want to shoot you," Buffy countered. "Wow, if you put 'you-Buffy' in place of 'you-Cáel' you will realize how inconsequential that is," I informed her. "I'm a human being; unless I'm in Havenstone. Inside, my well-being is based solely on your sufferance; just like a test monkey." "If you really empathized, you would realize the only other people that walk around think 'gosh, I shouldn't murder that person today' are serial killers. Yet you expect me to be thankful for tap dancing faster than you shoot at my feet. You have this happy dream that I've accomplished anything," I shook my head. "In 71 days one of you is going to kill me; that is the reality I'm staring down," I gazed at her. "Why do you think we'll turn on you then?" Buffy actually appeared upset. "Havenstone has been letting me play with this '84 Day' fiction because it amuses all of you," I took a deep breath. "Whatever I can do in the last 71 days of my life probably won't matter." "You've made a difference with Aya and Oneida," Buffy rallied. "Great, I saved the life of someone who would stab me in the heart if I slapped her," I countered. "As for Aya; I dread to think what she will go through when she figures out you've put me down like a rabid dog. I help her because I have to try, because the rest of you have written her off." We walked the rest of the way to the apartment in silence. "Katrina is not going to like the results of our little chat," Buffy mumbled. I laughed. "Buffy, she knows. When the time comes she's sending Elsa to take me alive. I don't know how I'm going to beat her. It is one of the thousand, or so, things I'm working on," I chuckled. "I know Katrina better than you do," Buffy rolled her eyes. "I think you under-estimate her affection for you." "I don't doubt her affection for me," I told Buffy. "I simply deem it to be valueless. Listen, it took me ten seconds to figure out what Aya needed at the Archery range." "Not a God-damn person who knew her their entire lives would have ever done what I did," I continued. "It wasn't that they didn't understand what needed to be done; show a little faith in her. It was that none of them would have ever had the humanity to do it. Katrina could think the Sun rises and sets on me. It doesn't change a damn thing that happens in 71days." I neglected to say that Katrina murdered/dueled her own grandmother to bring Desiree into the Epona fold. That was the head of her household. I wasn't an Amazon, or even a woman. Buffy was making shit up to keep the insanity of her life at bay. Oh, she'd kill me if Katrina gave the order. She'd hate herself for it. That wouldn't do me a damn bit of good though. (Saturday Afternoon and then some) Our conversation died for two reasons as I led the way into my apartment. First off, it was Havenstone business and neither one of us was foolish enough to talk about it in front of Timothy and Odette. The other reason would have been Brooke and Libra sitting on Timothy's sofa. Those two stood up as we entered. "Hi;” I got to say. "We just came around to tell you that you are an;” Libra spat but then, "Which one is this?" "You could have called first," I snapped back. I reached for my phone; which wasn't there. Odette sheepishly lifted my phone up from her side. I imagine that bitch had been ringing off the hook since my departure. There was a major bitch-fest coming down the pipeline. I wasn't going to let that happen. There is an advantage to people having a low opinion of you. It gives you the unspoken permission to act like a crass asshole whenever you feel like it. "This lady is Buffy Dubois and she's my bodyguard for the weekend," I tried to sound bored. "Listen, the restaurant we went to was long on sizzling hot food and short on ceiling fans, so I'm going to take a shower," I callously stated. "Brooke, want to join me?" No, Brooke didn't want to join me. She wanted to rip my hair out in large, painful clumps. She was the Princess and I was the bottom feeder with dirt under my fingernails (huge salary be damned). "No, I don't want to shower with you, you Jerk!" Brooke snarled. Sadly, now I was making poor use of my loyal Odette. Such is life. "We only stayed long enough to give you a piece of our minds." "I'll come with you!" Odette peeped. She had been on the floor, back to the small space of wall between the workout alcove and the door to my bedroom. Timothy was leaning on the portion of the living room wall next to the short hall that led to the bathroom and his bedroom. He seemed more and more amused as the encountered unfolded. "No," Brooke squalled. "I'm not done with him yet." She followed me to the bathroom. Now normally, I would get a towel from the bathroom, go to my bedroom to strip down then return to the bathroom for a shower, or soak in the tub. This time I went straight to the bathroom. Brooke had built up a good head of steam, I slammed the door shut the second she came in. She was about to unload some truly spectacular vitriol on me. That wasn't the game plan. I shoved Brooke into the door and pressed my lips against hers, conveying my deep desire for her and dowsing her rage. "No, you don't;” she got out. Game plan. "God Brooke, I've been worried sick about you. Have you been holding up okay?" I turned on the concern. This is what she wanted to hear. I wasn't indifferent to her emotional state. In fact, I was so wrapped up in her Brooke's turmoil I was nearly paralyzed into inactivity. These are the words that Brooke wanted. What mattered to Brooke most was Brooke, followed up by how much Brooke mattered to other people. "I; ah," she mumbled before we kissed once more. This time she was hungry and passionate. She had reaffirmed that I was in her 'corner'. Now she could get down to the real reason she'd shown up to a place where some middle class guy who didn't return her phone calls lived; sex. "Work's been a mess since Trent jumped ship and took that promotion," I grumbled, still focused on giving Brooke oral stimulation. "The important thing is how have you been recovering? How have you been coming along?" Seduction is multi-layered. Know your partner; not just their erogenous zones, but their likes, dislikes, mindset and goals. Thus I used words like 'Trent jumped ship' and 'promotion' to fixate Brooke's anger on Trent, not me. He deserved it. Also, I used 'recovering' and 'coming along' to insinuate that Brooke; strong Brooke; was getting through this trauma all on her own, so now she could let me help her and not be in a weak, desperate position. All that led up to Brooke justifying to herself that she could let me ravish her in the shower without her looking like some insecure, post-breakup slut. The first words that came to mind were 'Pound Puppy' though 'Pound Kitty' was more apropos. I was nice, tender, gentle and loving as I drew her into the tub with the shower on. She cuddled against my chest, got off a few tears; mainly for my benefit to express how much she still needed comforting. Then I began tearing her up. I went VOA this time out; vaginal, oral, anal; and she had no doubt that I was Fucking her, capital 'F'. She was no Chalmers' girl, but she certainly spared no expense on the screams, howls and caterwauls as I ripped piece after sensual piece off of her; body and soul. Thankfully I keep six condoms beneath the shampoo dispenser. It is indicative of the state of disrepair of our apartment building that the water heater didn't exhaust the water supply and turn cold; it turned lukewarm. More screwing for Brooke and me. When she finally came crashing down from her trash pile of depression, self-doubt and rage over a world that had suddenly stopped making sense, I cut off the water, held her tight, and exited us from the tub. Both being players, Timothy and I had stocked up on nice, plush terry-cloth towels. Nothing builds up a mood for a repeat performance like drying off in a really comfy towel, or kills it faster than being wrapped up in some rag. I partially dried off Brooke because she was still craving close, romantic contact. Again, the most important person in the room was Brooke, and by attending to her, I was reinforcing that. I even stopped what I was doing to watch her put her underwear, socks then pants back on. She loved it. Then Brooke began looking around the small space for her bra. I had been hiding it behind my back. I revealed it, avoided having her swipe it back then used one finger to beckon her forward. Her resistance was enough to assert her independence, but not enough to dampen the sensuous course of events. She stepped forward, I tapped my lips indicating she had to kiss me to get back her undergarment. Brooke faux-resisted then kissed me. Then she French kissed me. I gave her bra back, still she pushed her body against mine, kissing away. She gave up the oral gratification when she wanted to give it up. She was the one in command, she asserted that by giving me what I wanted, so I was okay with things. She kept radiating her confidence as I kept very still, looking her over as she finished putting on her clothes. I cannot stress this enough: give the girl what she wants. There was absolutely no difference between lashing Rhada, instructing Odette in sensuality, finger fucking Elsa, upping my game to the highest levels with Buffy and going at Brooke in a romantic-aggressive style. Oh yeah, it is rarely productive to actually ask a girl what she wants. Most of the time they want to please you, so they'll lie. Lie better than they do and read what their body likes. Go from there. That was another gift from my mentor. When she was teaching me ancient love poetry, literature and culture, she was doing more than that. She was teaching me how to read women, get inside their minds and make them happy with things they may not even acknowledged they liked. God, I miss her. We/she decided that graduation was the end of the road for our romantic journey. She'd find another young man in need and start over. I would go out in the world and spread the passion and love, my fidelity failings be damned. Libra wasn't far from being a happy camper when Brooke and I came back out of the bathroom, one arm around Brooke's waist, the other holding my clothes and me in a towel. "Woot!" Odette, sitting on the floor once more, fist-pumped. "You knocked it right out of the ballpark." Brooke glared. Libra scowled. Odette basked in the knowledge that she was on the 'inside' of my little world now. She didn't have to play games. If she wanted to hang out, or have sex, she could come on over and I'd do my best to accommodate her. Odette had gone from hook-up, to fuck-buddy, to friend. She was still a girl around me with all the resulting pitfalls. That wasn't going to go away. What she had decided was that she was getting to hang out with cool, adult people. Dating in high school had never been difficult yet in the transition to adulthood, she'd be caught in a state of limbo. One night she met this young, dark stranger and she'd decided to take a chance. Now she had a big, musclebound gay sofa-buddy who was a relatively famous tattoo artist, a woman bed companion who apparently kicked ass for a secret society of some kind (Odette wasn't stupid) and that gorgeous, dark stranger to make love to her, to cuddle with and to wake up next to. I'd even kissed her before I raced off to work. I never kicked her out once I was 'finished' with her. We hung out, watched movies and talked about adult stuff. Timothy had offered to take her to a gay club; even a gay strip club. She couldn't wait. Odette wanted the three of us; she liked the idea of being a trio; going clubbing. Sure, she'd be sponging off me, but Timothy said I wouldn't mind. Timothy even insisted that we both really liked her. He also told Odette that 'with all the wacky bitches in his life, he needs you'. Before this, Odette had always thought of one boy-one girl. After a few days with me, monogamy flew out the window and she honestly couldn't recall why she'd been so hung up on it. I gave Brooke another steamy kiss, before heading to my bedroom. I bent over Odette, stroked her cheek as she looked up and smiled at me, and met her lips in a tender, caring moment. Yes, she knew she was special to me. Libra was ready to bifurcate me; verbally. Blood is so difficult to get out of clothes. Why was I going to get away with this? I banged the Trent out of Brooke; again. She could assume I was either ignoring her; Heaven forbid; or I was working up to her; a far more appealing illusion. I nearly closed my door. I wanted to hear what was going on. "Let's go," Libra groused. "Why don't we see if he wants to go out to eat?" Brooke suggested, ignoring Buffy, Odette and Timothy. "We had Brazilian for lunch," Buffy calmly informed them. It was mid-afternoon. "Oh, how was Yasmin?" Odette inquired in a friendly manner. "Are you his social director?" Libra sneered. "Oh no," Odette chattered back. "Cáel Nyilas and I are buddies. We have a lot of sex, but mainly I hang around for the meals and company." "Is he fucking you too?" Libra snapped. "Yes," Buffy sighed happily. "Yes he is. It is only for this weekend. After that, I have to wait for the end of his internship." "Damn," Libra seethed, "Is he fucking you as well?" "No," Timothy said regretfully. "Cáel isn't even bi-curious, despite my dreams and fantasies." "I guess that's something," Libra grumbled. Right then I stepped out, looking all male-scrumptious. For guys, imagine a D-Cup tanned blonde, in a midriff exposing damp, white t-shirt, no bra, and red bikini bottoms. This is pretty much how most women demean me in their libido clouded minds. I've never actually felt demeaned by this. I mean, if the opposite sex finds me sexy, do I really care if that's going to be the limit of them getting to know me? I think not. By the way, for all you curvaceous blondes out there who gripe and groan about men only seeing you as sex objects; really? That bothers you? Do this; tease them the say 'now sit there and listen to what I have to say, or no nookie for you'. Talk away. Will they understand you? No, but then very few of us understand Stephen Hawking either. Consider yourself in a select group that includes the smartest human on the planet. That guy/girl on their knees before you pleading for intimate contact? They will agree with you in a heartbeat. Congrats; you are a genius. I also don't mind. If women stopped wanting sex, I doubt my life would not be worth living. Less I be allowed to savor a victory, there was a knock at the door. I headed that way. "Oh yeah; Cáel," Timothy called out. "Nikita called and said she was going to stop by." And here I was with two sexually dressed (it was hard for Libra and Brooke to not look sexy) hotties, plus Odette and a Havenstone Stormtrooper in my crib. Had I whispered for Odette to go hide in Timothy's room, she would have hopped to it. Had I fell on my knees, begged, pleaded and was shown to be speaking the Words of God, Libra and Brooke wouldn't have moved an inch. Fortunately (?) this happens to me a great deal. "Hey Nikita," I gave her a sleepy smile. I started to usher in my policewoman/somewhat-girlfriend. Yes, I was acting like nothing was going on, much less like I'd done something wrong. I was aided in this by the fact that the sex had all been shower-based, thus not odiferous. This wasn't a great plan, or even a good plan. It was a weak plan, in fact; rather desperate and last ditch. "Hi," Nikita scanned the room. "Who is this bimbo?" Libra insulted both Nikita and me. "New York City Policewoman Nikita Kutuzov," Niki snapped back. "Who the fuck are you?" "That's Libra Chalmers," Odette spoke up when the two girls wouldn't. "Her sister and Cáel Nyilas were friends at college." "The raven-haired woman is Brooke Lee and her boyfriend was a total douche and made work difficult for Cáel Nyilas and life horrible for her," Odette finished. That was so sweet of her; it was almost 'me'-like. "Are either of you Havenstone?" Niki studied them. "That would be me," Buffy spoke up. Since she wasn't dressed like a desperate cry for sex (like the other three women), Nikita hadn't truly soaked her in yet. For starters, Buffy was clearly older than the rest. "Do you have any weapons on you?" Niki glared. "Yes; do you want to see my Concealed Weapon permits?" Buffy remained serene. "Nice and slow," Niki told Buffy as her hand came to rest on the grip of her 9 mm. Nikita was off-duty so this was an awkward situation. "You have girlfriends with guns?" Brooke gasped. She seemed excited. Libra was uncertain. Nikita being Nikita, she took Buffy's word for nothing, using her cellphone to call in and check the three permits; gun, knife, knife. She wanted to card everybody, but I nixed that. These were my house guests. I put my foot down. Niki became truly angry with me. "I need to talk to you; outside," Nikita insisted. I didn't hesitate to go with her. By outside, she meant to her car because she was sure my place was under surveillance. She was most likely right. As soon as I put my ass on the passenger seat, Nikita wrapped me in a smothering embrace. "I've been so worried about you," she sniffled. No, Nikita wasn't brain damaged, or forgiving. She knew that if I hadn't already had sex with some, if not all, of the four women in my place, I most likely would in the next 36 hours. Don't forget that she knew I was a philanderer, had come to grips with that, and was beginning to count up my allowed indiscretions before she finally gave up on my worthless ass. "You shouldn't do that, Nikita," I hugged her tightly to me. "You have a freaking dangerous job and I'm a big boy. I'll deal with my work problems. You deal with yours and we take what time together as we can." "This is not how the World is supposed to work," she mumbled. "There are two ways of looking at it, Nikita," I stroked her hair. "Peace is merely the interruption of the otherwise endless cycle violence, or life is a constant struggle to avoid the inevitable slide into anarchy." "For such a loving, joyous man, you have a terribly dark side to you," Nikita looked into my eyes. "I read this in a book on the philosophy of social collapse; Imagine that last legionnaire standing atop Hadrian's Wall, his companions ready to march away yet knowing the Picts remained just out of sight, waiting for the last guardians to depart," I recalled. "Did he contemplate that, despite generations of sacrifice, nothing had change, or did he realize that, with their lives, those fellow soldiers bought centuries of peace to an otherwise war-torn land?" "Nikita, no victory is permanent," I explained. "One day the lights will go out in this city and never come back on. One day everything you've worked for will fall. That doesn't mean what you are doing doesn't have value, or that I don't appreciate what you do. Every life you save is still precious; it is invaluable to that person, if no one else." "Every day you take up the badge and gun means hundreds of others get to live their lives wrapped up in the illusion they live in a lawful society," I said. "I say 'illusion' because people tend to not understand that nothing lawful is permanent. They don't understand that one day that last legionnaire will be looking out over their neighborhoods. It is inevitable." "Is that why you don't give a crap about any of your relationships; is this the excuse that you use to cheat; that nothing is ever permanent?" Nikita's gaze hardened. "Remind me to never be honest with you again," I opened the door. Yeah, I was pissed. I'd broken my rule; lie to make the girl happy; and this is what it got me. "Damn it," Nikita yanked on my arm, not letting me leave, "Cáel Nyilas, what am I supposed to think after you tell me that?" I hesitated. I hated honesty. "I don't give a crap about some nebulous, transitory victory, Nikita," I kept looking away. "I don't see monogamy as pointless any more than I feel law enforcement as pointless." "That doesn't mean I want to be a cop, or in only one relationship. My Dad loved my Mom. He never dated after she died. He loved me and raised me the best he could. That is one of the best examples of monogamy I've ever witnessed. It simply isn't me," I told her. "Of greater relevance is my initial comment about the value of victory." "You think you can 'fix' my situation; that somehow the rule of law can apply to people who live outside of it," I turned around. "That isn't happening. You are more likely to convict every banker that had a hand in the 2008 housing loan collapse than you are to ever bring a single senior Havenstone employee up on any charges." "It is wrong," Nikita insisted. "I'm not being naive. No criminal conspiracy is ever impenetrable." "They are not a criminal conspiracy," I sighed. "They are a nation-state without demarcated borders. Criminals are fixated on making money." "Havenstone uses money as part of their arsenal to get what they want," I said. "What is that?" Nikita. "I'll never tell you," I put our faces within millimeter of each other. "Cáel, I want to help you," Nikita persisted. "You can't, Nikita," I stared. "Rome calls and you will obey. It is who you are. It is what I like about you. It also means you won't break the law for me, which means, in the terms of rescue, you are useless to me as anything except a friend. Personally, I suggest you appreciate the next 70 days with me, then find someone who will take care of you, marry them and raise the next generation of policemen and women." "Are you a police officer?" she altered her approach. "No," I played along. "Then don't assume you know what I can and can't accomplish," Nikita grew fierce. "Al-Qaeda thought they were untouchable too. As did the KKK and the Mafia." "Right, Nikita, except there are still terrorists, violent racists and organized crime; different faces but the same hydra," I relayed. "That is what I'm trying to tell you; these ladies are not conventional criminals. They are not going to flip on each other. They aren't afraid of drone attacks, wiretaps, or video surveillance." "If the Justice Department goes after them, they'll strike back. Don't think assassinations and bombings; think 'Tail-hook' and 'Fast and Furious'. The problem is they already know what rules you play by and how law enforcement works. You won't be able to get your side to understand how Havenstone works until it is too late," I stressed. "Your side? We are your side, Cáel Nyilas," Nikita insisted. "No, you are not," I responded. "My side wants to deal with this himself, only risking his life and earnestly not wanting to have my actions resulting in hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths. Your gang wants to enforce the law and turn this problem into a nice, tidy bundle. Making twenty arrests and confiscating a few million in assets will not make Havenstone go away." "They will fade back into the shadows and then wreck vengeance upon you all when it is convenient for them," I stated confidently. I had sat in on exactly one board meeting. That had been enough of an education to figure out how they operated and how long-term their planning was. They wouldn't put a bullet into the head of the lead investigator. No, fifteen years later, while having a routine medical procedure, there would be a mix-up with his medication and he'd die. A few months later, his son, that man's wife and two children would all be involved in a fatal car accident. Yes, they wiped out your family. My bet was they had already done something like that. They'd find a weak link in the investigative team, show him/her the evidence of past misdeeds and impress upon them that they would be next. Witness Protection? Over a twenty year old string of accidents? The fed either played ball, or waited a decade, or two, for their loved ones to start dropping. Havenstone Commercial Investments was only 22 years old. Without a doubt, there had been other incarnations built up then discarded only for some new front to take its place. As for grudges; the Amazons took it as a personal affront that an independent Hellas existed today, despite the reality that those Greeks had little lineage in common with the Greeks from the time of Achilles. The conundrum was I couldn't use the word 'Amazons', or refer to the board meeting. I couldn't talk about the armory, Buffy, or Desiree's backgrounds, or truly impress upon Nikita the absolute level of fanaticism Havenstone engendered in their congregation. If I hinted at it, she'd think of Jonestown, not the Karen Insurgency in Burma. "Why do you have such faith in them, but not in your own law enforcement?" Nikita pleaded. "Training, fanaticism, the ability to act with few restrictions, and their willingness to let a member who makes a mistake to live and learn from it instead of being sacrificed for political and popular expediency," I counted off my points. "They prepare for war, not peacekeeping," I clarified. "By that, I mean that each standard office worker is the equivalent of a soldier in any fully modern armed force. For whatever cause you and your fellow NYPD believe in, there is also a long history of corruption. There is none of that at Havenstone. Infighting; yes. They would never betray the principles of their organization though." "You work under the scrutiny of the judicial system, a normally hostile press and a special panel whose sole duty is to keep your law enforcers in line. They work for superiors who give them far more latitude," I continued. "A Havenstone breaks an external law, the get assigned elsewhere. Violating their internal code of conduct is harsh and immediate then resolved." "You screw up, and you are pilloried in the press, abandoned by your superiors and shunned by your peers as if you had a contagion," I sighed. "The NYPD loses you as a resource because of one mistake. Despite the numerous advantaged of living in a Democratic Republic and a capitalist economy, the underlying weaknesses remain." "People are people, thus flawed. Office-seekers need money and to be scandal-free to get elected which has become a continuous process," I stated. "Those realities allow entities like Havenstone to exist in a parasitic relationship with our society. Face it, why pay $100 million in fines, duties and taxes when you can pay $1 million in campaign contributions." "You are so damn cynical," Nikita frowned. "Nikita," I huffed. "No, I'm not cynical. I'm a romantic realist. I know the score. Despite that, I still chose to make my own way in the world. I don't date a woman expecting a 'Happily Ever After'. I also never make a plan to leave a lady. It happens regularly enough and it is my fault most often, yet it has never been my intention to avoid permanence." "I don't understand you at all!" she yelled. This was expected. This was her prodding me into having some frenzied, 'make me forget about the cruelty of the World' sex. "Nikita, if I did chose to break the law, I wouldn't be caught because there is some cop out there better than me. If I was caught, it would be that the cops have tons more resources than I possess," I explained. "I'm not even criminally inclined and I can beat the system. This doesn't mean I plan to break the law. I have no reason to. In the same way, I won't surrender because I don't have to. I'm still alive and have a degree of freedom," I told her. "It is because I know the score that I can fight with hope. I have spent the last four years not living the easy life; the safe life." "I have the scars to prove it, along with no regrets, because I am me; the man I want to be," I smiled. "So what that I work for killers; they are hot and most of them are willing. The unwilling ones I'll bring around eventually; I always do." Now she wanted to pepper spray, Taser, baton beat and pistol whip me; all at the same time. Sex. "I keep asking myself why I care about you," Nikita wailed. "I don't even know why I came over today. I should have known you would have at least one woman in your apartment. I could have waited for you to return a single damn phone call; but No, I had to drive over and have you stomp on my heart instead." "I don't know how to reply to that," I mused. I did, but drawing it out was important. "My life is a nightmare. It will most likely end in tragedy. If I loved you, I would send you away in a loud, vocal breakup that would convince Havenstone we were done and that would be that. My problem is I like; I selfishly want to know you better and I resonate with you like no other." When you are the bad guy and she knows you are the bad guy, play the bad guy. See, if I was a good guy, I would sacrifice of myself and send her away. Instead, I was 'selfish' and I was selfish because we 'resonated'. Resonate is a good, romantic word. Its definition is a bit shady, thus she can interpret it the way she desires. Before you hate me more than you already do, please recall that I really liked Nikita. She was special to me. Unfortunately, 'special' has sort of a nebulous meaning for me. To put that in perspective, my heart is a five year old child in a toy story. It goes 'get that one, get that one' without explaining to me exactly why I end up doing what I do. "I want you so much," she groused, hating herself for her naked desire. "Let's go back to my place and make love," I suggested. She jerked slightly. "What about all those other women?" she questioned. "Odette is a dear friend, Buffy is my bodyguard and the other two showed up all on their own," I informed her. "I like Libra and Brooke well enough, but the attraction is purely sexual (it better damn be all it is). I hope we have something more," I said. I could even make honesty my bitch, it seemed. "Fine. Let's go before I regain my sanity," Nikita declared. It doesn't take a NASA mission control officer to know that really means 'fuck me now; I've soaked my panties'. Nikita was hopping up and down on the balls of her feet by the time we exited her car and made it around to her/street side. She grabbed my hand and yanked my unresisting form hurriedly back to my apartment. We nearly crashed into Buffy who had been watching from the door. Nikita flashed an embarrassed look. That didn't stop her from bounding up the stairs three at a time as we raced up to my place. Nikita was slowing down on the final approach only to have Odette open the door and stand aside; Buffy had phoned her. In we swept. Libra and Brooke rose from the sofa, I gave them an apologetic look before Nikita drew me into the bedroom. I slammed the door shut. "What the Hell!" Libra screamed. What can I say? When I truly set out to fuck a girl, I leave them wanting more. Before you think I'm an egotist, or a Sex God, it is they want to have sex with me, not that they care about what I want. I've been jumped while putting gas in a friend's car by a girl, whose name I couldn't recall at the moment, who I had banged in a bar's men's room. Midway through that encounter (we were standing up, my back against the car, and her legs spread up and wide as she coasted down from her first orgasm), she confided in me she'd been running around with a condom in her pocket in hopes of finding me; which proved she didn't really know me; I always have a condom. I even have some stashed in my bathroom  and  kitchen; just in case. After that, for the rest of my college career the Kwiki Mart attendant kept smirking at me; the gas pumps had video surveillance. My friend and his date were amused too. My date; less so. Maybe I should have stopped at the first orgasm. It turned out okay. See, unknown to anyone at the start, the girl's (Genevieve it turned out) boyfriend and I had been in a skiing accident and the poor bastard had suffered frostbite dragging me to safety, so I owed Genevieve big time. Yes, my date bought that hastily conjured excuse. All was right with the world and I ended up screwing my date that night and for the next two weeks. That relationship fell apart when three different servers at a Hooters gave me lap dances (who knew; Hooters girls don't normally give lap dances). I swear to God I had never been there before; the truth didn't work that time either. That wasn't too bad. It reminded me of Genevieve. I went back to the bar and nailed her again. In case it matters, I don't have a fake ID. I lie to the DMV about where I live. It is all official-like, if completely illegal. Back to my current official; a rapid analysis of the kaleidoscope of emotions. Lust, fear and confusion battled for dominance. I had to take into account her sexual background, parenting, and personal let downs. I had to give her something she didn't want. No, I wasn't going against my tried and true strategy. I had to give Nikita something she didn't want yet really needed. She began trying to strip off her clothes. Off went her faded denim jacket (despite the heat in NYC in the early summer) then her short-sleeved shirt. Poor Nikita; her nice, gossamer white bra was obviously new; that crisp, pure white doesn't come from Tide, and she had marks from the first bra she'd put on today. Off went the gun; and the cuffs. I had kicked off my shoes and so quickly pulled down my pants it burned my skin. The policewoman was drinking up my Nikita-inspired arousal so I was able to strip off my shirt too. She began working down her pants and undies in one motion when I jumped her. "Hey wait," she giggled. She became a tad more annoyed when I wouldn't relent. With her pants and panties still above her knees, I slipped on a condom, rolled her over and began. "I don't want to do it this way," Nikita insisted angrily. "Let me up." "I can't wait," I grunted in my doggy-style. In I went. "Girr; Girr; ah," she finally gave into her arousal. "Ah; ah; aha." That brought me to a halt. I wove my arms around her waist and drew her back to my chest. "Are you ready to have sex because you want it instead of doing it because you don't know what else to do?" I whispered in her ear. She twisted her head around. Words failed her so we kissed. "Can I take my pants off now?" sighed happily. "I don't know. I kinda like you like this," I replied. "I can barely move," she protested. "That would be a point in my favor," I snickered. Nikita got back at me by wiggling in my lap. Yeah, that put me in my place alright. Changing our orientation was part of my instinctual reaction to her desire for a close visual connection. The whole face down/ass up was only a trick to erase her confusion. Keeping inside of Nikita, I twisted her around until she was on her back, her bound legs resting on my crooked right elbow. Curse me, Nikita looked up at me consumed by bliss. There is disappointment, settling for what you've got, getting what you want and finally, being giving something you never considered yet now you wonder how you lived so long without. This wasn't only a 'good dicking'. It was the revelation that my life was a total train wreck and for a crusader like Nikita, I was virtually the Holy Grail. I would never 'not be in trouble' thus constantly in need of saving. To her, I had transformed into the perfect boyfriend. I could never run away, or be saved by anyone else but her. Oh; and I was giving her a terribly good dicking. "Better?" I murmured. Nikita nodded. My rod kept up steady, moderately powerful penetrations. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?" Trick question. "No," she purred. "I like; this is wonderful; I thought you would be different." She was one happy camper. She had anticipated a domination play. "I'd only be rough with you if that's what you wanted," I pressed her legs farther down so that are faces were very close. "Mmm; are you ever going to stop seeing those other girls?" she poised. She was no longer angry. Perfect boyfriend plus fantastic intercourse. I'm always doing stuff that makes women act in bizarre and unexpected (to them) ways. Won't ever do anal? You'll be ambushing me in the tub and working that ass down my pole inside of two weeks. Trust me. Odette hooking up with Buffy? Been down that road before. "I've only got 70 days left, Nikita," I groaned. "They are going to force me to put out at work." "I might as well try to make love to the women I care for," I told her. No, they weren't going to make me put out at work unless I made the full 84, or was relocated. Lie baby, lie. "I'll make sure you live more than those 70 days," Nikita passionately assured me. Now she was applying some pushbacks to meet my thrusts. "Why are you so nice to me?" I began taking deeper breaths. Please don't say 'I love you'. "No one should have to face your enemies alone," she gave up. Her left hand slithered down and began to tenderly work on her stiff button. I matched it, despite the somewhat awkward placement. My hand rested on hers, developing a synergy and allowing me to get a feel how she liked her clitoral stimulation. Nikita had barely started screeching out her climax when the door swung open. "You Bastard!" Libra screamed at me. To be that fast, she either teleported, or had been eavesdropping at the door. She stormed away, still yelling at the top of her lungs. It was times like this that Timothy appreciated what I told him when I first looked the place over. No locks on the interior doors? No problem. The women would cause less damage if all they had to do was break down the exterior door to get at me. He thought I was a joker. I am, but I wasn't joking about that. Kicking open a door is hard on the door sills. They are far more likely to give way then the door is to splinter, or the lock is to break. There have been a great many women who have busted through all kinds of portals to get at me with vengeance, pain and agony on their mind; my pain and agony if there was any doubt. "Ah, ah, ah; that was mind-blowing, Cáel," Nikita lilted. "Next time; " "Yes?" I soaked up her aroma. "Can we not make this a domestic disturbance case?" she giggled. "Is that an appeal for some real privacy, or stadium seating?" I teased. "You are a meanie!" she giggled gleefully. Who calls an adult a meanie? There was only one proper reaction to such a denigrating insult. I helped her take off the rest of her clothes and fucked Nikita two more times. Nikita and I were exhausted, our bodies intertwined, sweaty, and sated. Odette poked her head in. "Is it okay for us to join in yet?" Odette asked. "No," Nikita moaned. "Not yet," I corrected. I compensate having no control over my willy, by having limited control over every poon tang I interact with. I'm not sure how that works, but it does. Case in point: "I am not engaging in group sex, or sleeping with a girl," Nikita murmured. "Well, can they sleep in our bed tonight? They have nowhere else to go," I reasoned. "Um," she bit her lower lip. "Okay." Ta-da! I didn't argue with Nikita, or challenge/dare her. I said 'our bed' which put her, theoretically, on top of my female acquaintance hierarchy. Truth? Nah. I never had enough women hanging around together to ever have the time to figure that out. Nikita was going to be in bed with me and two other sexual active women. Buffy alone was a morality hazard. Odette was spunky. Nikita was armed with three relationships at best; her mom was a cop after all, so dating had to be fun before college. Finally, there was me; the lowest of the low. If cads had a shred of reverence, they worshipped an idol with my face on it. To my credit (don't laugh), I wasn't forcing Nikita to do anything, only making her do things she'd have never thought she'd do before she met me. We cleaned up then joined the others. The start was awkward. I changed the conversation to things girly: guns. I have a twisted life. Odette knew nothing; pure law-abiding citizen. I was an amateur gunslinger who picked up firearms to romance a girl, or three. Niki grew up around guns and the people who used them; the police. Her area of expertise was handguns and shotguns. She had little experience with rifles. Buffy had gotten a later start in life, but played 'radical catchup' since then. While not going into details, Buffy was very engaging. Timothy had no formal training yet had somehow managed to acquire a familiarity over his misspent life. He had even been paid in an AR-14 once. He had, of course, turned it over to the cops; but couldn't remember which cop, or precinct, when prodded by Nikita. We broke for Korean takeout. There was a problem with the order. Niki, Buffy, and I prepared to head out when Timothy developed a situation in the bathroom. Us guys tried to handle it. We were hopeless. Finally, Nikita intervened and shooed us out to the living room. Timothy 'found' some tools and gave them to Buffy to give to Nikita. Us guys had been exiled, after all. The second Buffy went into the bathroom, I slipped out the door quietly. Odette gave me a 'thumbs up' then snuck off to my bedroom. Bedroom noises commenced. The take-out issue was that my cute Korean delivery babe was missing me. Despite the plethora of sex coming my way, I discovered I missed her too. Later. "Do you find it amusing to not trust us in the least?" Nikita stared at me. I would have felt better if Timothy wasn't bound up with extension cords and his mouth covered with duct tape and trussed up on the floor. Odette was cowering in the far corner of the sofa. "I apologize," I extended my armload of food. "Old habits die hard." "You hurt our feelings," Buffy frowned. Still freaked out by that. Why wasn't someone hitting me? Seriously, there are tons of throw-able things in the apartment plus they both had guns. "If I sneak out, you two don't have to deal with the conflict of me wanting sex with different women," I pleaded. "This has nothing to do with how fantastic the sex with all of you is. It is that I'm so used to disappointing women then running for my life, the option of gaining anything approaching permission isn't something I know how to handle," I explained. "What makes you think we'd ever give you permission to cheat?" Buffy smirked. Ah, the joys of a blossoming four-way. Nikita? Not going to sleep with another woman? Hell, three hours in and she was already dividing up my sex-time with my other bed-buddies. My only worry was Niki would retell this to her Mom, the Police Desk Sergeant. I wasn't worried she'd hurt me. I was worried 'Mom' would toss me in jail. I'm a very pretty man and I doubt I'd do well in an all-male environment. Sure, there would be female corrections officers. That's not a good thing. I'm incredibly horny and I could see 'don't ask, don't talk back' in my future. "Listen, both of you," I got feisty. "If I want this level of aggravation, I'll go back to work and slap Elsa." "Also, why is Odette cowering on the sofa? She didn't do anything wrong," I declared. "She went into your bedroom, shut your door, and made all kinds of sexy noises. It took us ten minutes to realize we weren't hearing you,"

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

Join Brad The Dad, Eric B, Randy C and Jimmy Korderas as they sit down and talk some WWE Crown Jewel 2024 from Mohammed Abdo Arena in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Its a Saturday Afternoon and we are finished watching a PLE at 4:30pm! What did they Think?   Opens up hot With Bloodline vs New Bloodline! Did it end as predicted? This Great is Hot! What did the Think of The Women's 4way tag team title match? Seth vs Bronson, will this feud Continue? Liv Morgan wins The first Women's Crown Jewel Championship! Fight Kevin Fight! How much we all loved the 3-way United States Championship Match! Gunther vs Cody , Bring Back Old School Wrestling!   This and Much, Much More!   Powered By: Huge Pop Radio Go to HugePopRadio.com or IHeartRadio, or anywhere you download podcasts and music.   Thanks to TSN 690 for their continued support, and thanks to all of you for listening! Please like, subscribe and share on whatever podcast provider you're using!   Also Follow and Subscribe to Draw Straws Raw You-Tube Channel! www.youtube.com/@drawstrawsraw Please and Thank Ya!   Also The SmackDaddiies The Smack Daddies are your East Coast Podcasting Champions of the World! Welcome to the home of SmackDown coverage for the Huge Pop Hub. Tune in each week as your Smack Daddies review SmackDown, dive into their lives, and drop hot takes on the best wrestling show on Friday nights! Don't miss it!

Eddye K. (1987, Tulsa) makes paintings, drawings and mixed media artworks. By using popular themes such as sexuality, family structure and media influences, Allen focuses on the idea of 'public space' and more specifically, on spaces where anyone can do anything a any given moment: the non-private space, the non-privately owned space, space that is both economically uninteresting and interesting.Her paintings are often about contact with architecture and basic living elements. People, energy, space and landscape are examined in less obvious ways and sometimes developed in absurd ways. In a search for new methods to 'read the city' she touches various overlapping themes and strategies. Several recurring subject matters can be recognized, such as the relation with pop culture and media, working with repetition, provocation and the investigation of the process of expectations.Her works often refers to pop and mass culture. Using written and drawn symbols she creates a world where light-heartedness rules and rules are undermined. Her works have been sold, displayed and commissioned across the country. Celebrities that have her works include but are not limited to Writer and Educator Nikki Giovanni, Actor and Author John Lithgow, Actor and Political Activist Danny Glover, Social Critic and American Philosopher Cornel West, R&B Singer Ginuwine,  Musical Artist MO3, Americas beloved Snoop Dogg, WWE Bobby Lashley, Coach and NFL superstar Deion Sanders, and more to come.http://www.expressionsofeddyek.comhttps://www.instagram.com/eddyekaaane/For all bookings please email ​expressionsofeddyek@gmail.com or Call 539-664-1382Personal Statement: God blessed me with these gifts to reach out and create love and peace with color..be careful with the gifts as well as my love for works of art are my peace.I hail from a place that is historically richer than many have ever dreamedI was raised in a household of love and reminded to believe in my dreams that would surpass and man-made ceilingI come from a gene pool whose hearts beat for the joy in returning a sparkle or glimmer of fine tuning ones selfI create art that dances in the grey areas so one knows that black and white depend on each other for the full picture to be in focus​I paint silhouettes that give thoughts a safe place to question and contradict each otherI am the Black Wall Street ArtistA lady of many facets but True Artist by definitionMy art is a piece of me that hopefully puts a smile on your face as well as etched in a memory or feeling that you never forget

Ken previews Tuesday's election with Kenin Spivak and Dr Frank Sorrentino. Also looking at tonight's FC Cincinnati playoff game with DJ Switzer.

Ken previews Tuesday's election with Kenin Spivak and Dr Frank Sorrentino. Also looking at tonight's FC Cincinnati playoff game with DJ Switzer.

Post-match reaction as Aberdeen move three points clear at the top of the Premiership. Plus huge wins for St Johnstone and Ross County.

Ken Broo is in, and he's talking politics, sports, music, and more on 700 WLW!

Ken Broo is in, and he's talking politics, sports, music, and more on 700 WLW!

WDAY First News anchors Lisa Budeau, Scott Engen and Lydia Blume break down your local regional news and weather for Monday, October 21, 2024.   InForum Minute is produced by Forum Communications and brought to you by reporters from The Forum of Fargo-Moorhead and WDAY TV. Visit https://www.inforum.com/subscribe to subscribe.

Text: Haggai 1:1-9A message from our youth rally.

Boundary rider Michael Roberts interviewed all your favourite Lions in the rooms right after their premiership win! In this episode, he speaks to Kai Lohmann, Brandon Starchevich, Jarrod Berry, Josh Dunkley, Conor McKenna, Will Ashcroft and his family -------- Add the show to your favourites on LiSTNR: https://listnr.com/podcasts/footy-talk-australian-rules-podcast  Listen on Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/au/podcast/footy-talk-daily-australian-rules-podcast/id1673652644  Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/1q5RUW2KTONUoP8KF3ZZHY?si=6798bf7f4a1540be See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

28th September 2024 - Derry City. Ministered by John Edwards.

The SKATCAST Network presents:Truck Driver Theater #1Today's Skit-SKATs:[ The Adventures of Gunner Halifax | 1:48 ] - "Gunner's Space Bender" - Welcome to space, it is dumb![ Liam the Monster Hunter | 13:40 ] - "The Pilot" - It's our first episode of Liam, and they only get dumber![ Time Traveling Jesus | 23:38 ] - "Dino-Jesus" - The Gospels of Terry begin with some Jurassic sh*t![ Post Apocalyptica | 35:33 ] - "Episode 1" - Dave and Angus star in their own Skit-SKAT series about zombies, because the world needs MORE zombie/apocalypse content!Enjoy your weekend!Visit us for more episodes of SKATCAST and other shows like SKATCAST presents The Dave & Angus Show plus BONUS material at https://www.skatcast.com Watch select shows and shorts on YouTube: bit.ly/34kxCneJoin the conversation on Discord! https://discord.gg/mVFf2brAaFFor all show related questions: info@skatcast.comPlease rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow SKATCAST on social media!! Instagram: @theescriptkeeper Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/scriptkeepersATWanna become a Patron? Click here: https://www.patreon.com/SkatcastSign up through Patreon and you'll get Exclusive Content, Behind The Scenes video, special downloads and more! Prefer to make a donation instead? You can do that through our PayPal: https://paypal.me/skatcastpodcast Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Prayer School with Dr. Doug Small September Sessions Session #3 of 3Sundays at 8:30 & 10:30 AMWe are branded by the fire of God. We carry the fire of God to ignite our generation to burn for Jesus. Find us:www.fuquayrevival.comwww.facebook.com/cornerstonefuquayig: @cornerstonechurch.fv

Hour 3: Murph & Markus dive into the Cooler of Content, share their thoughts on what happened to Ricky Pearsall on Saturday afternoon, and talk to Tim Ryan for the first time this season!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.