Podcasts about shrugging

Never Have I Ever.Cass finds the stud in her buddy Andrew.Based on a post by SmallTownPrincess. Listen to the Podcast at My first Time.Cassie gasped, jumping in her seat as the clap of thunder and splitting bolt of lightning across the screen lit the theater like daylight for an instant. In her momentary panic, she grabbed at the armrest, the fingers of her left hand finding instead the warm forearm of her fellow movie-goer and best friend, Andrew.Their met eyes for a moment, hers still wide with residual surprise and his glittering with amusement. With a blush for her silly panic and for the unexpected touch, she took her hand away, crossing her arms across her stomach and turning her face back to the screen.Recently, for reasons she couldn't entirely understand, Cassie had begun to feel awkward around Andrew.Too often she found herself blushing for small things, or giggling nervously, or losing the courage to do things like brush a hand through his hair or jump on his back for a piggy-back ride; things that a few months earlier she would have done without thinking.It was their stupid friend Margaret who'd started it, with her talk of "friends with benefits." Cassie had never considered the idea that her tall, gangly Andy could be, as Margaret had put it, "a certified hottie." They'd been friends for so long that she could no longer hold herself far enough away from him to be able to see him with an objective, appraising eye.Andrew's lips suddenly brushed her ear as he leaned over close to whisper to her, and she nearly jumped again. "The scary part's coming," he murmured, offering his shoulder as a place for her to hide her eyes.Ah, this was why she loved him so. Who else would understand how much she loved horror films; and how deeply they terrified her? Who would take the time to go to these films first without her, then come back to see them a second time, ready to point out all the really horrific scenes so that she could hide her face and not be scarred beyond belief?No doubt he would also stay with her after the movie tonight, curled in an uncomfortable ball on the floor next to her bed to act as her protector. He snored and drooled and would probably sleep through the apocalypse, but somehow having him there still made her feel better.When the film ended, the heroine narrowly escaping by boat as the only survivor, Cassie and Andrew filed out into the chilly, early autumn night. Cassie shivered, and Andrew dropped a friendly arm around her shoulders."Did you like it?" Cassie asked."It was alright. Definitely better this time than when I watched it by myself. Your reactions are priceless," Andrew said with a laugh."I can't help it! I jump at the jumps, I'm scared of the scary parts; that's what's supposed to happen when you go see a horror movie!""I wasn't complaining. I'm amused.""Hey, I saw you jump a little when he came out from under the shed to grab that girl's ankles.""Strictly for your benefit. I am never scared.""Oh? Well, good. You can stay up and keep watch tonight. Make sure no creepers come in my house in the middle of the night to chop me up for their stew."Andrew stifled a yawn, shaking his head. "An all-night vigil? Fat chance of that. You'd have to stay up with me."Immediately, Cassie began to think of ways she might keep him awake, each a little more risqué than the last, and she blushed again. What was it about him tonight that made her think such silly thoughts? He was joking with her, being her almost-brotherly friend as he always had been. The flirtatious edge was something she was imagining, she knew."Whatever you want, just keep the monsters away from me!" Cassie cried with a melodramatic wave of her arms. She ducked out from under his arm, darted the last few feet to the door of his car and leapt inside.The drive to her house was quiet, each of them thinking their own private thoughts in companionable silence. Once they got to the house, Cassie began to feel again a twinge of that fear she had experienced in the theater. The darkness, the quiet, the sense of waiting, it unnerved her enough that she let Andrew lead the way through the front door, clinging to his arm as if that would save her if some slasher movie antagonist were waiting on the other side."I don't want to go to sleep yet," Cassie said as they marched to her room, Andrew turning on lights as they went. "I'm all antsy. Let's play a game or something, huh?"Cassie had a grand total of three board games, one of which was nothing more than a sticky Candy Land board, devoid of any cards or playing pieces; there was little there with which to while away the evening hours."Let's play Never Have I Ever," Cassie suggested, and Andrew shrugged, his preferred signal of acquiescence.They sat on either end of her bed, both cross-legged, facing each other and hugging pillows in their laps. Each of them held up all ten fingers, ready to play."Never have I ever...read Hamlet," Andrew said by way of starting. Cassie shook her head."No, that's boring!""What? We always do stuff like that.""I know! Let's talk about something more fun than our reading lists and bodily functions." She eyed him beadily, daring him to repeat his disgusting scatological comments from the last time they'd played this game."Like what?""Like..." Cassie considered and discarded a dozen suggestions instantly, filing them away as either too mild or far too dirty. "Like, never have I ever kissed someone below the chin.""Really, never?""Never ever.""I'm not putting a finger down for that. It's dumb. You can't seriously have gotten to be nearly twenty years old and never done that.""But I haven't!""Come here. Kiss me right here on the neck, and then think of another one." He was laughing, but he did lean forward and pull his shirt away from the side of his neck, clearly intending for her to follow through.With another blush; would they never stop?; she bent and pressed her lips quickly to the spot where his neck met his shoulder. It was brief, but she was still pleasantly surprised by how warm his skin was there."Alright, now think of a better one than that," Andrew said with another laugh, sitting back."I can't think of anything. You say one.""Alright, fine. Never have I ever...made out with a hot girl who was sober."It was Cassie's turn to laugh. "Wait, how many drunk hot girls have you made out with?""Just one, but she was scorching.""Oh, prettier than me, huh?" She meant it as a joke, but her tone fell a little short of the levity she was going for, and she ended up sounding a great deal more jealous than she felt."Well, no, I mean, not prettier than you, per se..."Cassie gave him her most dramatic look of mock-hurt. "You don't think I'm pretty, Andrew?""Are you kidding? You're beautiful, Cass. But you're...you know...you're Cassie."A jolt of something like fear, but entirely not, shot through Cassie's stomach. He'd never said that before, that she was beautiful. True, he'd qualified it, but at the same time...he thought she was beautiful. Her face warmed."I'm tempted to make you make out with me and pick another one, just because you were so obnoxious about mine," Cassie said, laughing.Andrew laughed once, but then his smile became something decidedly more inviting."Oh, really? That wasn't obnoxious. I was merely pointing out that there are things in this life that you should have done in your teenage years.""And making out with a girl with no alcohol involved is definitely something you should have done. I still have another couple months before I'm out of my teens. You've missed the boat already! Anything you do now is necessary just to catch up.""So you think I should have done...this?" He rolled up onto his hands and knees, which put his face directly in front of hers, an inch or two away. After a pause, their lips touched, and in her surprise at the suddenness of it she broke the kiss to suck in a startled breath.He backed away a couple of inches, thinking he'd startled her unpleasantly, but Cassie followed him, leaning forward until they were separated by a mere sliver of air. Andrew kissed her again, softly at first, but then inspiration seemed to strike, and he sat up a little, putting his hands on either side of her face to hold her to him. When he finally released her, both of them were breathing a little harder, eyes a little wide, movements a little uncertain."So," Andrew said, clearing his throat and sitting back. "So, I guess I can't use that one anymore. Unless you've been drinking, of course?" Still too stunned to react properly to his comic jabs, she merely shook her head. "I thought not. You're not alcoholic enough to sneak a flask into a movie theater. Well, is it your turn to think of one, then, or are you going to make me go again?""I, um..." Cassie shook her head a little, cleared her throat. "Well, let's see. Never have I ever..." She thought of the moment earlier when Andrew had pulled his shirt back from his neck, showing off the lovely, muscled shoulders he was secretly proud of. She wondered if the rest of him was as nice as his shoulders. "Never have I ever seen any of my friends naked."Andrew's eyebrows shot up. "What, you've never been in a locker room before?""When would I have been in a locker room?" Cassie laughed. She was not the athletic sort, as Andrew was well aware."Still, never? Like, you've never gone streaking, skinny dipping, changed in front of each other, anything?"Cassie shook her head, grinning. Andrew stood up next to the bed. "Well, I can't let that go unchanged. Seriously, nudity among friends; it's a rite of passage!"He seized the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor before going to work on his belt. Cassie watched with a mixture of horrified amazement that he was actually stripping naked in her bedroom, laughable discomfort because it was Andrew, and a growing appetite for the new perspective she was gaining on him, this thought of him as a real, handsome, sexy boy; not just her buddy Andrew.His pants hit the floor and he stepped out of them, standing awkwardly in his boxers for a moment before seizing the waistband and tugging those down to his ankles, too. Cassie couldn't help but stare; she'd never seen any boy totally naked, and here was a very fine specimen of man, standing in front of her with much less self-consciousness than she would have expected.After a moment, he bent to pull his boxers and pants back on, but Cassie protested."Aw, you're going to put it all back on?" she asked jokingly. "Here I thought you were going to play the rest of the game that way."Shrugging, Andrew sat back at the end of the bed as he had been, with the notable difference that he was now stark naked. "This hardly seems fair.""What do you mean?""I'm totally hanging free here, and you're still bundled up like a nun. A little reciprocation would be fair, don't you think?"Cassie shuddered at the idea of Andrew seeing her naked. She was self-conscious enough about seeing herself in the mirror.But Andrew was staring at her expectantly, and she knew he would play along no more without this quid pro quo. She stood nervously, then pulled her shirt up over her head, dropping it beside her. Andrew just watched, expressionless except for his small smile, so she carried on.Her skirt followed her shirt to the floor, and then with a deep breath she unclasped her bra in the back and dropped that onto the pile as well. Without looking at Andrew, and with a face undoubtedly colored like a beet, she slipped her panties off, sliding them down her long bare legs and kicking them off onto the pile of discarded clothes.Andrew's eyes took in every inch of her nudity, and he sighed; she thought she heard him say "Cass" under his breath. When his eyes trailed back up to meet hers, he smiled. "And now neither of us can use that one."Cassie sat back down, a little closer to Andrew this time, their knees touching. "It's your turn."Andrew hadn't taken his eyes away from her yet, and still didn't as he answered without hesitation, "Never have I ever touched every inch of a girl's naked body." His hands were already reaching out to touch her shoulders, trail along her leg, cup her face. Grabbing her legs, he pulled her farther down on the bed so that she could fit lying down without hitting her head on the headboard. He took her face in his hands and kissed her sweetly."Andrew!" Cassie cried in a voice that was half a laugh when they paused to breathe. "What are you doing?""Not sure yet," Andrew said absently, tucking her hair behind her ears and kissing her soundly.Cassie could feel her heart beating in every extremity; had she ever been able to feel every inch of her hypersensitive skin the way she could now? Andrew did not stop kissing her as his hands fell away from her face, slipped down her neck and gently ran over her tits to her stomach. When his thumbs grazed over her nipples, a shock wave ran down through her torso, straight to that soft, dark place between her legs. She had never been as aware of that spot as she was at that instant.Andrew was kneeling over her now as she lay back on the bed, and in their mutual nudity it was impossible for him to hide his body's appreciation of this turn of events. His erection brushed against her thigh as he shifted, and she tensed, the unfamiliarity suddenly overwhelming her.The kissing stopped immediately; Andrew sat back, concern on his face. "Is this okay? Are you-- I mean, is this too weird?""No, no," she assured him, and she meant it. All this felt surprisingly natural, even as quickly as it was moving; as if this was the most obvious and right state for them to be in, and everything they had been and done before had been awkward and unsatisfying. "Please come back."He acquiesced with a vengeance, the force of his kiss pinning her to the bed as she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and grasped the back of his neck with the other. When he suddenly moved to change positions, he almost lifted her off the bed in his enthusiasm as she clung to him. She admired for a moment the powerful muscles of his abdomen and lower body when he sat up on his knees to shift, putting himself between her legs.She was unbelievably, overwhelmingly aroused, almost to the point of discomfort; she could feel the slickness of her own juices between her thighs as she moved over on the bed to center herself, and when she spread her legs apart to give Andrew a place to kneel, the cold air of the room was a shock on her wet flesh.Andrew's hands were on her hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on the skin of her stomach as his kisses began to trail downward; along her neck, across her collarbone, up the mound of her tit. His mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue moving torturously slowly in a narrowing spiral around it, ending at last in a fierce, cat-tongue lick and a small, playful nip.The muscles in Cassie's stomach tightened suddenly, jerking her, forcing a small gasp out from between her lips. Andrew smiled against her skin.One hand slid away from her hip, along the outside of her leg, fingers dragging lazily across the skin of her thigh. He folded his hand so that only his index finger pressed against her skin as he worked his way back up, running it along between her legs as she squirmed. At length, his finger found the already wet-slick folds of her nether lips, teasing them apart and sliding from her clit to her drenched opening.Her fingers tightened on the skin of his back, her mouth dropping open; it seemed suddenly as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the room, and the lack made her deliciously dizzy. He pulled back from her a little, watching her face as his finger slid up and down slowly.She couldn't get enough of his face, especially the tiny smile, like he had a secret and was going to tell her in little pieces, stretched out over the night. There was something strange and thrilling about watching him touch her; he seemed to waver between being the Andrew she'd always known and trusted more than anyone else in the world, and a completely different man, surprisingly sexy, totally aware of what she wanted and needed and ached for."Is this really happening?"She didn't realize she'd spoken the words aloud until Andrew paused in his finger's ministrations and bent to bury his face in her neck, whispering between kisses, "It must be, unless we're both sharing the best dream I've ever had."He sat up, eyes on her body like he was trying to memorize it. His hand started to move again, faster, his fingertip teasing her clit and sending alarmingly powerful jolts of pleasure through her body. Her toes and fingers were going numb in waves of tingles. She was blazing hot inside; her skin ought to be steaming in the air of the room.And at the core of her, so close to his hand, she began to feel an almost unbearable emptiness, as if he'd stolen a piece of her and he alone could return it. She closed her eyes, concentrated. She was so empty; she was a shell made only of feverish skin, holding nothing but this raging inferno and a desperate, gaping vacancy.

Never Have I Ever.Cass finds the stud in her buddy Andrew.Based on a post by SmallTownPrincess. Listen to the Podcast at My first Time.Cassie gasped, jumping in her seat as the clap of thunder and splitting bolt of lightning across the screen lit the theater like daylight for an instant. In her momentary panic, she grabbed at the armrest, the fingers of her left hand finding instead the warm forearm of her fellow movie-goer and best friend, Andrew.Their met eyes for a moment, hers still wide with residual surprise and his glittering with amusement. With a blush for her silly panic and for the unexpected touch, she took her hand away, crossing her arms across her stomach and turning her face back to the screen.Recently, for reasons she couldn't entirely understand, Cassie had begun to feel awkward around Andrew.Too often she found herself blushing for small things, or giggling nervously, or losing the courage to do things like brush a hand through his hair or jump on his back for a piggy-back ride; things that a few months earlier she would have done without thinking.It was their stupid friend Margaret who'd started it, with her talk of "friends with benefits." Cassie had never considered the idea that her tall, gangly Andy could be, as Margaret had put it, "a certified hottie." They'd been friends for so long that she could no longer hold herself far enough away from him to be able to see him with an objective, appraising eye.Andrew's lips suddenly brushed her ear as he leaned over close to whisper to her, and she nearly jumped again. "The scary part's coming," he murmured, offering his shoulder as a place for her to hide her eyes.Ah, this was why she loved him so. Who else would understand how much she loved horror films; and how deeply they terrified her? Who would take the time to go to these films first without her, then come back to see them a second time, ready to point out all the really horrific scenes so that she could hide her face and not be scarred beyond belief?No doubt he would also stay with her after the movie tonight, curled in an uncomfortable ball on the floor next to her bed to act as her protector. He snored and drooled and would probably sleep through the apocalypse, but somehow having him there still made her feel better.When the film ended, the heroine narrowly escaping by boat as the only survivor, Cassie and Andrew filed out into the chilly, early autumn night. Cassie shivered, and Andrew dropped a friendly arm around her shoulders."Did you like it?" Cassie asked."It was alright. Definitely better this time than when I watched it by myself. Your reactions are priceless," Andrew said with a laugh."I can't help it! I jump at the jumps, I'm scared of the scary parts; that's what's supposed to happen when you go see a horror movie!""I wasn't complaining. I'm amused.""Hey, I saw you jump a little when he came out from under the shed to grab that girl's ankles.""Strictly for your benefit. I am never scared.""Oh? Well, good. You can stay up and keep watch tonight. Make sure no creepers come in my house in the middle of the night to chop me up for their stew."Andrew stifled a yawn, shaking his head. "An all-night vigil? Fat chance of that. You'd have to stay up with me."Immediately, Cassie began to think of ways she might keep him awake, each a little more risqué than the last, and she blushed again. What was it about him tonight that made her think such silly thoughts? He was joking with her, being her almost-brotherly friend as he always had been. The flirtatious edge was something she was imagining, she knew."Whatever you want, just keep the monsters away from me!" Cassie cried with a melodramatic wave of her arms. She ducked out from under his arm, darted the last few feet to the door of his car and leapt inside.The drive to her house was quiet, each of them thinking their own private thoughts in companionable silence. Once they got to the house, Cassie began to feel again a twinge of that fear she had experienced in the theater. The darkness, the quiet, the sense of waiting, it unnerved her enough that she let Andrew lead the way through the front door, clinging to his arm as if that would save her if some slasher movie antagonist were waiting on the other side."I don't want to go to sleep yet," Cassie said as they marched to her room, Andrew turning on lights as they went. "I'm all antsy. Let's play a game or something, huh?"Cassie had a grand total of three board games, one of which was nothing more than a sticky Candy Land board, devoid of any cards or playing pieces; there was little there with which to while away the evening hours."Let's play Never Have I Ever," Cassie suggested, and Andrew shrugged, his preferred signal of acquiescence.They sat on either end of her bed, both cross-legged, facing each other and hugging pillows in their laps. Each of them held up all ten fingers, ready to play."Never have I ever...read Hamlet," Andrew said by way of starting. Cassie shook her head."No, that's boring!""What? We always do stuff like that.""I know! Let's talk about something more fun than our reading lists and bodily functions." She eyed him beadily, daring him to repeat his disgusting scatological comments from the last time they'd played this game."Like what?""Like..." Cassie considered and discarded a dozen suggestions instantly, filing them away as either too mild or far too dirty. "Like, never have I ever kissed someone below the chin.""Really, never?""Never ever.""I'm not putting a finger down for that. It's dumb. You can't seriously have gotten to be nearly twenty years old and never done that.""But I haven't!""Come here. Kiss me right here on the neck, and then think of another one." He was laughing, but he did lean forward and pull his shirt away from the side of his neck, clearly intending for her to follow through.With another blush; would they never stop?; she bent and pressed her lips quickly to the spot where his neck met his shoulder. It was brief, but she was still pleasantly surprised by how warm his skin was there."Alright, now think of a better one than that," Andrew said with another laugh, sitting back."I can't think of anything. You say one.""Alright, fine. Never have I ever...made out with a hot girl who was sober."It was Cassie's turn to laugh. "Wait, how many drunk hot girls have you made out with?""Just one, but she was scorching.""Oh, prettier than me, huh?" She meant it as a joke, but her tone fell a little short of the levity she was going for, and she ended up sounding a great deal more jealous than she felt."Well, no, I mean, not prettier than you, per se..."Cassie gave him her most dramatic look of mock-hurt. "You don't think I'm pretty, Andrew?""Are you kidding? You're beautiful, Cass. But you're...you know...you're Cassie."A jolt of something like fear, but entirely not, shot through Cassie's stomach. He'd never said that before, that she was beautiful. True, he'd qualified it, but at the same time...he thought she was beautiful. Her face warmed."I'm tempted to make you make out with me and pick another one, just because you were so obnoxious about mine," Cassie said, laughing.Andrew laughed once, but then his smile became something decidedly more inviting."Oh, really? That wasn't obnoxious. I was merely pointing out that there are things in this life that you should have done in your teenage years.""And making out with a girl with no alcohol involved is definitely something you should have done. I still have another couple months before I'm out of my teens. You've missed the boat already! Anything you do now is necessary just to catch up.""So you think I should have done...this?" He rolled up onto his hands and knees, which put his face directly in front of hers, an inch or two away. After a pause, their lips touched, and in her surprise at the suddenness of it she broke the kiss to suck in a startled breath.He backed away a couple of inches, thinking he'd startled her unpleasantly, but Cassie followed him, leaning forward until they were separated by a mere sliver of air. Andrew kissed her again, softly at first, but then inspiration seemed to strike, and he sat up a little, putting his hands on either side of her face to hold her to him. When he finally released her, both of them were breathing a little harder, eyes a little wide, movements a little uncertain."So," Andrew said, clearing his throat and sitting back. "So, I guess I can't use that one anymore. Unless you've been drinking, of course?" Still too stunned to react properly to his comic jabs, she merely shook her head. "I thought not. You're not alcoholic enough to sneak a flask into a movie theater. Well, is it your turn to think of one, then, or are you going to make me go again?""I, um..." Cassie shook her head a little, cleared her throat. "Well, let's see. Never have I ever..." She thought of the moment earlier when Andrew had pulled his shirt back from his neck, showing off the lovely, muscled shoulders he was secretly proud of. She wondered if the rest of him was as nice as his shoulders. "Never have I ever seen any of my friends naked."Andrew's eyebrows shot up. "What, you've never been in a locker room before?""When would I have been in a locker room?" Cassie laughed. She was not the athletic sort, as Andrew was well aware."Still, never? Like, you've never gone streaking, skinny dipping, changed in front of each other, anything?"Cassie shook her head, grinning. Andrew stood up next to the bed. "Well, I can't let that go unchanged. Seriously, nudity among friends; it's a rite of passage!"He seized the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor before going to work on his belt. Cassie watched with a mixture of horrified amazement that he was actually stripping naked in her bedroom, laughable discomfort because it was Andrew, and a growing appetite for the new perspective she was gaining on him, this thought of him as a real, handsome, sexy boy; not just her buddy Andrew.His pants hit the floor and he stepped out of them, standing awkwardly in his boxers for a moment before seizing the waistband and tugging those down to his ankles, too. Cassie couldn't help but stare; she'd never seen any boy totally naked, and here was a very fine specimen of man, standing in front of her with much less self-consciousness than she would have expected.After a moment, he bent to pull his boxers and pants back on, but Cassie protested."Aw, you're going to put it all back on?" she asked jokingly. "Here I thought you were going to play the rest of the game that way."Shrugging, Andrew sat back at the end of the bed as he had been, with the notable difference that he was now stark naked. "This hardly seems fair.""What do you mean?""I'm totally hanging free here, and you're still bundled up like a nun. A little reciprocation would be fair, don't you think?"Cassie shuddered at the idea of Andrew seeing her naked. She was self-conscious enough about seeing herself in the mirror.But Andrew was staring at her expectantly, and she knew he would play along no more without this quid pro quo. She stood nervously, then pulled her shirt up over her head, dropping it beside her. Andrew just watched, expressionless except for his small smile, so she carried on.Her skirt followed her shirt to the floor, and then with a deep breath she unclasped her bra in the back and dropped that onto the pile as well. Without looking at Andrew, and with a face undoubtedly colored like a beet, she slipped her panties off, sliding them down her long bare legs and kicking them off onto the pile of discarded clothes.Andrew's eyes took in every inch of her nudity, and he sighed; she thought she heard him say "Cass" under his breath. When his eyes trailed back up to meet hers, he smiled. "And now neither of us can use that one."Cassie sat back down, a little closer to Andrew this time, their knees touching. "It's your turn."Andrew hadn't taken his eyes away from her yet, and still didn't as he answered without hesitation, "Never have I ever touched every inch of a girl's naked body." His hands were already reaching out to touch her shoulders, trail along her leg, cup her face. Grabbing her legs, he pulled her farther down on the bed so that she could fit lying down without hitting her head on the headboard. He took her face in his hands and kissed her sweetly."Andrew!" Cassie cried in a voice that was half a laugh when they paused to breathe. "What are you doing?""Not sure yet," Andrew said absently, tucking her hair behind her ears and kissing her soundly.Cassie could feel her heart beating in every extremity; had she ever been able to feel every inch of her hypersensitive skin the way she could now? Andrew did not stop kissing her as his hands fell away from her face, slipped down her neck and gently ran over her tits to her stomach. When his thumbs grazed over her nipples, a shock wave ran down through her torso, straight to that soft, dark place between her legs. She had never been as aware of that spot as she was at that instant.Andrew was kneeling over her now as she lay back on the bed, and in their mutual nudity it was impossible for him to hide his body's appreciation of this turn of events. His erection brushed against her thigh as he shifted, and she tensed, the unfamiliarity suddenly overwhelming her.The kissing stopped immediately; Andrew sat back, concern on his face. "Is this okay? Are you-- I mean, is this too weird?""No, no," she assured him, and she meant it. All this felt surprisingly natural, even as quickly as it was moving; as if this was the most obvious and right state for them to be in, and everything they had been and done before had been awkward and unsatisfying. "Please come back."He acquiesced with a vengeance, the force of his kiss pinning her to the bed as she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and grasped the back of his neck with the other. When he suddenly moved to change positions, he almost lifted her off the bed in his enthusiasm as she clung to him. She admired for a moment the powerful muscles of his abdomen and lower body when he sat up on his knees to shift, putting himself between her legs.She was unbelievably, overwhelmingly aroused, almost to the point of discomfort; she could feel the slickness of her own juices between her thighs as she moved over on the bed to center herself, and when she spread her legs apart to give Andrew a place to kneel, the cold air of the room was a shock on her wet flesh.Andrew's hands were on her hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on the skin of her stomach as his kisses began to trail downward; along her neck, across her collarbone, up the mound of her tit. His mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue moving torturously slowly in a narrowing spiral around it, ending at last in a fierce, cat-tongue lick and a small, playful nip.The muscles in Cassie's stomach tightened suddenly, jerking her, forcing a small gasp out from between her lips. Andrew smiled against her skin.One hand slid away from her hip, along the outside of her leg, fingers dragging lazily across the skin of her thigh. He folded his hand so that only his index finger pressed against her skin as he worked his way back up, running it along between her legs as she squirmed. At length, his finger found the already wet-slick folds of her nether lips, teasing them apart and sliding from her clit to her drenched opening.Her fingers tightened on the skin of his back, her mouth dropping open; it seemed suddenly as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the room, and the lack made her deliciously dizzy. He pulled back from her a little, watching her face as his finger slid up and down slowly.She couldn't get enough of his face, especially the tiny smile, like he had a secret and was going to tell her in little pieces, stretched out over the night. There was something strange and thrilling about watching him touch her; he seemed to waver between being the Andrew she'd always known and trusted more than anyone else in the world, and a completely different man, surprisingly sexy, totally aware of what she wanted and needed and ached for."Is this really happening?"She didn't realize she'd spoken the words aloud until Andrew paused in his finger's ministrations and bent to bury his face in her neck, whispering between kisses, "It must be, unless we're both sharing the best dream I've ever had."He sat up, eyes on her body like he was trying to memorize it. His hand started to move again, faster, his fingertip teasing her clit and sending alarmingly powerful jolts of pleasure through her body. Her toes and fingers were going numb in waves of tingles. She was blazing hot inside; her skin ought to be steaming in the air of the room.And at the core of her, so close to his hand, she began to feel an almost unbearable emptiness, as if he'd stolen a piece of her and he alone could return it. She closed her eyes, concentrated. She was so empty; she was a shell made only of feverish skin, holding nothing but this raging inferno and a desperate, gaping vacancy.

Date: May 18th of 2025   Speaker: Rev. Dr. Matthew Richard   Text: John 16:5-15  Context: Sermon at St. Paul's Lutheran of Minot, ND   Manuscript: CLICK HERE 

Here are 3 big things you need to know—   One —   House Republicans are advancing legislation supporting President Trump's immigration policies. The House Judiciary Committee approved a measure along party lines yesterday that would fund the deportation of one-million migrants each year. The bill also includes 45-billion dollars to detain 100-thousand migrants.   Two --- President Trump defended his record on the economy and poll numbers at a NewsNation town hall.  Trump called in to the town hall event hosted by Chris Cuomo on Wednesday, where he said the recent polling on his approval rating were "fake polls" where more Democrats were interviewed than members of the GOP.  Shrugging off concerns about the economy, Trump said he knows what he is doing.   And number three —  Michigan House Speaker Matt Hall is crediting Governor Gretchen Whitmer making an appearance at the White House with helping Selfridge Air National Guard Base get new fighter jets.  Hall says the Democratic governor has embraced Republican President Trump this term, and says she's doing a lot of really great things to help us.  Whitmer has said since Trump defeated Vice President Kamala Harris in November that she would work to find common ground wherever she could with the new President. 

From Lost In Eros – Book 1A Formal EventIn 10 Parts By BradentonLarry.  Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.When they were all dry enough, the towels were tossed into the appropriate bins, and Keiko and Natalia led the way into the hallway and just a short distance to the left, where they opened the door to a sedate little sitting room. On either side of this antechamber were doors. The Player, Peter, Don and Igor headed off through the door on the left, while Ilsa, Natalia and Keiko led Toshia through the one on the right.As she stepped into this new room, Toshia drew up short. What she saw was an enormous room with row upon row of racks of women's clothing. Natalia and Keiko disappeared almost at once, while Ilsa took Toshia by the hand and led her down the third aisle. Without any hesitation, Ilsa found the particular rack of clothes she wanted, considered her options for a moment, then took something off the rack, and handed it to Toshia.“Try this one,” Ilsa said simply.Toshia held the hanger up and considered the offering skeptically. Shrugging to herself, she looked around for any sign of a dressing room, and then remembered she was already stark naked. She laughed a little and began to put on the garment Ilsa had given her. Toshia thought at first that something must be missing, but then started to doubt that. The standards of dress here were certainly different.Meanwhile, Ilsa had moved down the aisle a little, found what she was looking for and handed it to Toshia. She paused long enough to deal with the zipper Toshia couldn't reach, and then headed off in another direction, while Toshia struggled into the new items Ilsa had brought.By the time, Toshia thought that she had the things she'd been given on properly, Keiko appeared and handed her a couple of items including a G-string. When Keiko disappeared again, which happened very quickly, Toshia went ahead and sniffed the undergarment, and was relieved that it smelled freshly laundered. Before she could put the G-string or any of the other items Keiko had brought, Natalia turned up with a pair of shoes. When Toshia got to try them on, she was amazed to find that they fit perfectly.She thought she was finished, and looked around for a mirror, but before she could locate one, Ilsa returned wearing a sky blue gown that somehow held up her large tits, though it only came up far enough to cover her nipples, and not all of her large aureoles. Her arms, shoulders and neck were completely bare, and, when Ilsa turned around to show it off, her back was also bare down to the top of her behind. The fabric of the dress had a silvery sheen that played up the curves of her body.“It's very pretty!” Toshia said appreciatively.“Let me look at you,” Ilsa said, as she stalked quickly around Toshia, and then announced, “Perfect!”Natalia and Keiko turned up then, and added their own votes of approval. Natalia was wearing a deep green bodice, with a dark red skirt that (as Natalia demonstrated) tore away easily to reveal a garter belt and black stocking, with no G-string or anything else covering her privates. Keiko was staying true to form and wore a black, form-fitting geisha dress, with very long slits running up both sides, showing her legs to good advantage, as well as the black stockings and stiletto heels she was wearing.“Is there a mirror?” Toshia finally got to ask.“Oh, yes,” Ilsa said, “but first, let's get your hair done a bit.”“My hair?” Toshia asked with some concern.“Don't worry, my dear,” Natalia said, “nothing drastic.”“Or time consuming,” Keiko put in.“Right,” Ilsa agreed. Then they bustled Toshia off to a room far to one side of the big room, where a pair of incredibly efficient and strangely impersonal male hairdressers quickly brushed Toshia's hair and added mousse, styling it without cutting it, in a matter of minutes. In the same time, another pair returned Natalia's long hair to a stylishly coifed pile on top of her head.“Thanks boys!” Ilsa said as she yanked Toshia out of her chair and back into the big room, where she and Keiko had found and wheeled over a large full length mirror. There Toshia saw herself with her hair seemingly windblown but very fetching. Around her neck she wore a simple black choker, and on her arms a pair of black gloves that came up to the middle of her upper arms. She had on a sexy pair of high heels with straps that laced up her calves. There was no way she was going to get those off in a hurry. The gown she wore began with a sort of bodice that seemed to be made of a kind of spandex. It fit her torso snugly and flatteringly, but enabled her to move and bend freely. However it came just up to under her tits and stopped. In fact the top edge of it was curved as if it was cut specifically for Toshia. The skirt, which was long enough to brush the floor, started at her hips, but only wrapped around incompletely, so that the very front was open to view. Anyone could easily see the fine fish-net stockings and satin black G-string she was wearing. Both the skirt and top were of deep violet. Toshia had feared she would look ridiculous, but now saw that she was quite striking, particularly with her tits standing out proudly in front of her. If the girls thought it was acceptable, she was willing to give it a shot.She smiled at her three new friends and said, “Thank you very much.”“Oh, wait!” Keiko said. She disappeared into the hairdressers' room and reappeared in a moment. With deft motions and utter assurance, she applied lipstick, a bit of eye-shadow, and some blush to Toshia's face. The lipstick was a burgundy, and the eye-shadow made Toshia look a bit exotic, while the rest was quite subtle but effective.“Okay, now we can go,” Keiko announced.Arm-in-arm the four women proceeded back to the entry foyer, where the four men were waiting. The Player was wearing his red jacket and hat, but had added a golden-yellow vest and a pair of white breeches that were missing the crotch, so that his cock and balls were freely exposed, as well as a pair of black boots that came to the top of his calves. Peter was wearing another kilt; a black one; and a white jacket that was buttoned all the way up and had a Nehru collar. Igor was still naked. Don was wearing an open, deep blue long coat, a red vest, and boots and breeches just like the Player's.When the women entered the room, the Player bowed low, Peter clapped, and Don just gaped at Toshia. Seeing that she was looking at him with an amused expression, he remembered his manners and said, “Wow! You look amazing!”Toshia gave him a small curtsy, and laughingly added, “I can see you mean that.”Don glanced down to see that his cock was rapidly coming back to life while he was ogling Toshia. “Well, I certainly do mean it,” he smiled, actually blushing a little.“Very well then, ladies and gentlemen,” the Player said as he put on his hat and took up his cane. “Off to the ball we go!”Don enjoys the strange ball & two new playmates.Don held out his arm and Toshia took it, both of them smiling at the surreal circumstances. They followed along with the Player and his entourage, who led them out into the hallway and then down a number of connected hallways. Certainly, the place was some kind of luxurious labyrinth. As they walked, Don asked Toshia, “This certainly has been an interesting little adventure so far, hasn't it?”She laughed, and said, “You're abusing the word ‘interesting', Don.”“Yeah, but I have no idea what other adjective to use. I keep trying to tell myself that this must be all some weird, really realistic and intense dream, but I'm not buying it.”“Me too,” she said. “This is all very real, even though it makes absolutely no sense.”Don smiled at her. “If it does turn out to be a dream it's been a very good one.”She smiled but didn't look at him. “Are you looking at my tits again?”“Would you rather I didn't?”Then she looked at him, still smiling, but serious, “We're never going to have the same kind of relationship, Don.”“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “do you mean we're not going to continue to be honest with each other, love each other, and treat each other well?”“Of course not.”“I didn't think so. Well, if you're talking about the kind of relationship where sex is completely out of the question, then I have to say I'm not too broken up about that.”“When we get back, though, it'll be different,” she said. Don thought there was a note of regret in her voice.“We'll see about that when we get there,” he shrugged, still smiling.“I'm still with Sarah, no matter what happens here,” she said firmly.“Right,” he nodded. “Did you get the impression I was trying to take you away from her?”“No, but things, ” she faltered. “But all of this; it feels complicated.”Don laughed a little, and said, “Sometimes complicated is good. It sure as hell is interesting.”She punched him in the shoulder, “Stop using that word!”As they walked on, Don thought that up until he had gotten here, to this strange place, he would have now been dying to ask her, “Does this mean you want to have sex?” Now, though, he could tell she wanted to have sex, but that wasn't all of it. His attitude had shifted somehow.Before he could pursue that line of thought any further, though, they came to the top of a huge spiral staircase they descended to a marble hall, with potted ferns and benches against the walls. Without stopping, the Player led them across the shiny floor to a pair of enormous doors that opened as they approached.Although by now Don would have thought he was beyond being surprised, he was shocked at how immense the ballroom was. It looked like something out of a particularly big-budget Hollywood musical. Huge chandeliers glittered way overhead, and broad stairways swept up the sides to a gallery overlooking the expansive floor where he guessed a hundred people mingled. Underneath the gallery (which was supported by marble columns) seemed to be a number of side chambers, open on the dance floor side but offering some small measure of privacy.“Wow!” Toshia said.“Exactly!” Don agreed.On either side of the entrance there were large tables covered with large bowls of brightly colored fruit. Suddenly, Don realized he was starving. Apparently, so was Toshia, because they both started immediately for the food. Don took a strawberry and bit into it, only to find that it was the sweetest strawberry he'd ever tasted. Next he devoured a banana, while seeing that Toshia had quickly peeled an orange and was making short work of it.“This is delicious!” she said.Don nodded, and took another strawberry. As he was chewing this, he saw a fountain with clear water pouring out of it and an array of glasses standing by. He hadn't had anything to drink since waking up, and hadn't even noticed that he was thirsty, which he certainly should be under the circumstances. He picked up another banana and moved over to the water. Filling a glass, he brought it to his lips and sipped it, suddenly concerned that this might be the moment when the drugging happened. The water felt cold, clean and surprisingly refreshing. He took a full swallow and felt thoroughly rehydrated and energized. He drained the glass, refilled it and brought it back to Toshia. He peeled his banana and watched her drain the glass, distracted a bit by the swallowing motion of her throat. He noticed she had dribbled some orange juice onto her tit, and without hesitation leaned in to lick it up.“Hey now!” Toshia laughed. “Such a forward fellow!”Don smiled up at her, and said, “That's me.”He started to eat the banana and realized he was almost full already, and felt like he wouldn't be thirsty again any time soon.“Are you full already too?” Toshia asked.“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded. “That's weird.”“At least you didn't say ‘interesting',” she said with a raised eyebrow.“Add this to the magic candles on the list of mysterious goings on,” Don mused. Then he looked around again and noticed that the Player and his entourage had gone ahead and disappeared into the crowd of people on the dance floor. He took a better look at the hall, and said, “Look, windows.”“Windows?” Toshia looked, following the line of Don's sight up above the chandeliers. “They do look like windows, but it seems to be dark outside.”“Those are the first windows we've seen since waking up,” Don observed. “Of course, we still have no idea how long we've been here.”Toshia took the banana peel from Don's hand and tossed it, along with her orange peel, into a handy bin. Then she took his arm again and said, “Shall we have a look around?”“Let's,” he nodded. Together they moved clockwise around the perimeter of the dance floor until they came to the foot of the stairway on the left side of the hall. Taking their time while looking around, they started up the stairs. Passing them coming down to join the crowd on the main floor were people in quite a varied assortment of clothes, mostly of bright colors. Almost everyone was displaying a quantity of flesh unusual for a Hollywood musical. Most of the men had, like Don and the Player, come to the ball with their sex organs on display. Many of the women were, like Toshia, displaying their tits. At least one woman was wearing only a shiny black corset and a pair of boots that came up to her mid-thigh. At the top of the stairs they found the gallery was a broad, carpeted platform with a balcony railing on the right, and a bench-lined wall on the left. Though here and there they saw a couple engaged in mild fondling and necking, there was surprisingly little actual sex going on. As they moved along, Don noticed that everyone was checking them out. Both men and women were looking Toshia over as a potential playmate, and the women, and some of the men, were doing the same with Don. There was nothing shy about the way people were looking at each other, and Don found himself doing the same. On the other hand, he was not finding the mere fact that he could see a woman's tits or cunt as titillating by itself as he would have before today. What he did find titillating was that most of the women, and a few of the men, were looking back at him with apparent interest in getting their hands on him sexually.“Hey,” Toshia hissed. “Look over there.”Don followed her gaze to a point about halfway around the gallery from their current position. There was someone wearing a black robe. Not a black robe open in the front so you could have access to his or her sex, or even open part way so you could get a good look at their cleavage, but a full black robe, obscuring all of the wearer's body. To make things even more conspicuous, the person had a big hood drawn up over his or her head, completely hiding their face in shadow.“You're right,” Don said under his breath. “Let's get closer.” Trying not to draw attention to themselves, they began to move with a purpose through the idle people. Don thought they probably weren't doing a very good job of being inconspicuous, though, and, sure enough, when they reached the place where the figure in black had been he or she was nowhere to be seen.“One of our captors?” Don asked.“I don't know, but it certainly seemed suspicious,” replied Toshia as she looked around.Don smiled at her and said, “Well, we have something specific to look for now.”“Indeed,” she nodded.Right then music began to play, though there were no musicians, and they couldn't see any speakers. It was light classical music, possibly a piece by Mozart, though Don wasn't sure. People on the dance floor seemed to be arranging themselves as if they knew their places. Toshia and Don watched from the balcony. Then, when the first short piece was finished, another began. This was something from the Baroque period, Don could tell, though he couldn't identify the composer. The people below them began to dance in a formal, stylized way, much as Don imagined they must have danced in the court of Louis the XIII or XIV, except that here there was probably a bit more genitalia showing. The dance was uncomplicated and fairly slow moving, so that those wearing high heels and complicated dresses were in little danger of troublesome accidents.After watching for a while, Don asked, “Shall we give it a try?”Toshia smiled at him and said, “I thought you'd never ask.”Don's innuendo-prone mind thought she just might have misunderstood him, but she grabbed his hand and started off toward the nearest set of stairs, which was now the one opposite the one they had come up. They paused at the outskirt of the dancing throng, and looked for an appropriate opening. Peter and Natalia circled; or was it promenaded?; by, saw Don and Toshia and beckoned them to slip in ahead of them.Holding Toshia's right hand in his left up at shoulder level as the others were doing, Don led them into the dance. The measured, rhythmic steps weren't difficult to pick up and follow. They were on the outside circle of dancers moving clockwise, men on the inside. Passing on Don's right was another circle moving counterclockwise in the same arrangement, so a steady stream of provocatively dressed women paraded past him. On some cue that completely eluded Don, the people holding hands let go and switched partners. This last was done by the male half of each ring turning around to take the hand of the woman now on his left, and then moving in the direction that woman had been moving. The men from the innermost ring, being without partners, scrambled to make their way, without disrupting the dance, to the outermost ring of unattached women, who had continued to move clockwise. This process seemed to provide a lot of playful amusement all around.Don now found himself holding the hand of an exquisite woman with dark chocolate skin, almond-shaped, golden-brown eyes, a slender frame, short black hair in tight curls, and inviting, full lips that smiled warmly at Don's attention. She was wearing a deep red gown, with a neckline that plunged down to what Don guessed was her pubic bone, and at that it was one of the more modest dresses on display at the ball.Don passed Toshia once, noting that a fair-haired young man had managed to partner up with her, before there was another switch. This time, the women turned around, took another partner and went in the opposite direction. Don was now on the inner-side of the second circle, holding the left hand of a woman with wavy blonde hair falling down her back, a long nose that Don found particularly attractive, thin lips that smiled at him mischievously and laughing eyes of blue. She was wearing a sparkling gown of gold and green, cut much like Toshia's in the skirt, but providing more support for her tits, which were displayed prominently, with nipples showing.Toshia must be partnered with someone on this circle, he reasoned, and sure enough he did not see her again until after the next switch. Now Don was moving clockwise again, holding the hand of a brunette with hair that hung straight down her back to below her behind, and who was wearing a sheer, see-through dress that hung from around her neck down her front, only covering the backside at the bottom of her back, and then only reaching down to her mid-thigh. Toshia, on the other hand was moving along with a dark-haired man with a goatee, who might be the man they had seen masturbating earlier, and who was wearing a costume much like Don's except that it was all black.This pattern of switching partners and directions gradually worked Don and Toshia in toward the center circle. As they went, Don found himself wondering what happened to the people who couldn't find a partner on the next inner circle, which must have fewer people on it because it was smaller. Then he saw it happen just a few couples ahead of him, and the man had to work his way back out to the outer circle. He seemed disappointed. When Don asked about this, his partner, a petite blonde with very short hair in a gown that looked very like a pink teddy to Don, said, “Once you've started on the outside and made it all the way to the center, you get to play with your partner when you get one on the outside circle again. If you don't find a partner with each turn, you have to go back to the outside and start over.”Don laughed, knowing that Toshia had no idea of this particular game. Looking around, he saw that indeed there was now one ring fewer than there had been. “What happens if you don't start on the outside circle?”

MRKT Matrix - Friday, February 14th Stocks are little changed as Wall Street takes a pause after a strong week (CNBC) US Retail Sales Drop by Most in Two Years Amid Fires, Storms (Bloomberg) Corporate America is complaining about ‘currency headwinds.' What it means for investors (CNBC) Tech stocks return to December ‘scene of the crime', raising concern of another pullback, BTIG warns (CNBC) Tesla Dip Buyers Face a Treacherous Path Amid Bearish Signals (Bloomberg) TSMC Considers Running Intel's US Factories After Trump Team Request (Bloomberg) Apple, Google Restore TikTok App After Assurance From Trump (Bloomberg) Google Gemini now brings receipts to your AI Chats (TechCrunch) DeepSeek Sparks Investor Pessimism on SoftBank's $500 Billion Stargate Push (Bloomberg) Trump Says New Tariffs on Autos Coming Around April 2 (Bloomberg) Vance Wields Threat of Sanctions, Military Action to Push Putin Into Ukraine Deal (WSJ) --- Subscribe to our newsletter: https://riskreversalmedia.beehiiv.com/subscribe MRKT Matrix by RiskReversal Media is a daily AI powered podcast bringing you the top stories moving financial markets Story curation by RiskReversal, scripts by Perplexity Pro, voice by ElevenLabs

Room and Bored: Part 1 College student Dale is attracted to his landlady. Based on a post by Krosis, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►  Podcast at Steamy Stories. Dale woke up to the sound of a woman crying. The 19-year-old pulled on a robe and headed up the stairs, out of his basement suite and into the house proper. He quickly zeroed in on the source of the crying, the shadowy form of his landlady sitting on the living room couch, her head in her hands. "Nancy?" he called out softly to her, trying not to startle her. "Oh!" she whirled. "Dale! Did I wake you? I'm so sorry!" Dale stopped as he spied the curve of the older woman's bountiful cleavage peeking out from her robe as she turned toward him. It was a struggle, but he brought his gaze up to meet her beautiful brown eyes. "It's okay, are you alright?" he asked her. She wiped tears from her gorgeous face, framed by her thick, shoulder-length auburn hair. "I've, been better. It's nothing for you to worry about, okay? I'll keep it down." "Okay, " Dale retreated back to the door leading to the basement as she gave a final sniff and stood up from the couch, the street light streaming in through the window framing her figure for a moment. He gulped as he saw the silhouette of her shapely bare legs under her short robe. "Good nite," he called out to her. "Sweet dreams," she replied. Back in his bed, Dale thought about Nancy. She wasn't his aunt, but close, she was actually the younger sister of his mother's best friend growing up. She had even babysat him a few times before she left home. When Dale informed his parents that he was going to state college, his mother called Nancy, who she knew actually lived near the campus. After some catching up and finagling about money, Dale was set up in Nancy and her husband's furnished basement suite. When he met Nancy again as he moved in, he was taken aback at how sexy the now thirtysomething woman was. She had left town when he was just 6, so he barely remembered her, but she remembered him, and welcomed him like a surrogate mother. His face had reddened from the feel of her curvaceous body hugging him, and then he had made the acquaintance of Michael, Nancy's husband. The man, a little older than Nancy, was about Dale's height, a bit overweight, with dark hair and a trimmed beard. He seemed friendly enough. Dale had settled into the spacious bedroom suite, and his landlords frequently invited him to join them for meals, allowing the grateful college student to save money that he would normally have spent on fast food. A few weeks had passed since he had moved in, and he was getting comfortable in his new normal. Dale wished Nancy would hug him again. He thought about her warm, curvy body, barely hidden in her robe, pressed against him, the heady smell of her floral perfume setting his libido on fire, and he stroked himself to orgasm. Sleep came easily after that. Sweet dreams indeed, he thought.   "Hey, Dale, right?" Dale looked up. Standing next to his table was a cute, smiling girl his age, with shoulder-length platinum blonde hair, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that were a little bit too large for her average frame. "Um, yeah, do I know you?" He looked around the campus cafeteria, wondering if someone was playing a prank on him. Cute girls didn't normally just walk up and start conversations with him. She tucked some of her hair behind one ear. "Oh! Um, yeah, I'm Melanie, we went to high school together." At his blank look, she continued, "We had like three classes together last year, I sat behind you in English?" Dale struggled to remember her. A zitty, overweight dishwater blonde girl with glasses had sat behind him in that class, "Um, um, I lost some weight, got my eyes lasered, and colored my hair." She looked really uncomfortable now. "Oh!" he said, realizing. "I'm sorry, yeah, you should probably have led with that." Her skin had also cleared up, he noted. "Uh, how are you?" Her smile back on her face, she sat next to him. "Doing good! Did you take English Lit this semester? Your story projects in class were always interesting." His face flushed. "Really? Thanks. Yeah, English Lit, Creative Writing, all those, hopefully I'll make a living as a writer one day." "Oh, that's awesome! I'm sure you'll do well," she gushed. "I remember that ghost story you told the class, gave me frickin' nightmares for days! Um, I'm in the nurse program, so our classes don't overlap." "Huh." "Yeah." The conversation had stalled spectacularly, and she looked uncomfortable again. "I, guess I'll see you around?" She got to her feet, gave him a brief, uncomfortable smile, and shuffled away. "Sure," he called after her with a wave. A few minutes later, he got a notification through his phone that Melanie wanted to be his friend. Shrugging, he approved it. Can't have too many friends, he figured.   "I'll be working over in Greenville for a few weeks, to keep an eye on the contractors," Michael told Nancy and Dale at dinner that night. "They're putting me up in a hotel for the duration so I don't have to get stuck in traffic for hours going back and forth." Nancy stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. "Oh," she said, "when does that start?" "Monday." It was Friday night.   That night, Dale was again woken up by Nancy's sobbing, and he donned his robe and headed up. "Will you tell me what's wrong?" he asked as he sat next to her on the couch. She looked at him with red but still beautiful eyes. "Your Mom is really lucky, Dale, to have a son who's so smart, kind, hand--" She stopped and dropped her eyes to her lap. "Um, handy." He quirked her a smile. "Handy? Do you need me to fix a cabinet, or plug a leak?" She gasped, and he realized how lewd that last suggestion could be interpreted. "Um, I mean, " "It's okay, Dale," she said, and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're such a good boy." Dale was very aware that a sexy older woman was touching him. He was determined not to make a big deal about it. He also didn't want her to take her hand away. She paused for a moment before she gave his shoulder a squeeze and stood up from the couch. He stood up as well, an automatic reflex his father had drilled into him, and she impulsively pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for checking on me," she breathed into his ear. He nodded, his hands moving to circle around her, but then she pulled away and headed back to her bed. Dale found himself standing there with his hard-on tenting out his robe, and wondered how long it had been like that. He hoped that Nancy hadn't seen it! He went back to his own bed to take care of the awoken beast, this time being able to vividly recall Nancy's scent and the feel of her shapely body pressed against him, as it had just happened. Soon, his cum shot up and splashed back down upon his chest.   Dale's Saturday was taken up entirely by homework assignments. Taking a break, he posted a limerick to his friend feed: This homework brings me no joy, My brain it tries to destroy, I've come here to say, All work and no play, Makes Dale a very dull boy. Then he got back to work. Within a few minutes he got a notification that Melanie had commented, and grimaced as she once again gushed at his talent with words. Well, it was nice to be appreciated, he decided, and gave her comment a thumbs-up. That night, after dinner, he was up late finishing his English Lit paper and headed upstairs to get some cold water from the fridge. He could have poured himself some from his bathroom faucet, but he had been spoiled by his hosts' water filter. As he entered the living room, the kitchen light came on and he heard a light footfall on the adjoining room's stone floor. Nancy! He was about to call out to her when he saw that she was only wearing a short, sheer nightie instead of her robe. He froze instead, knowing that she would be very embarrassed to be caught by her renter in just her negligee! She opened the fridge, bent over, and rummaged through the fridge, giving Dale a fantastic view of her rounded ass, barely covered by pink bikini-style panties. His mouth went dry and he stepped back around the corner so that she wouldn't see him if she turned, though he made sure that he still had a good view of her sexy body. She pulled something out of a drawer and headed to the sink. He pulled back a bit more into the shadows of the living room as she washed, he craned his neck to see, a zucchini? He was confused, and even more so when she held the vegetable to her chest with a sigh. She didn't go to the cutting board, nor pull out a pan to cook the gourd. Why was she, ? Then she moved the vegetable down, between her legs. He gasped. No, she wouldn't, "Hello?" she called out, turning. Dale pulled back and rushed as fast and as quietly as he could across the dark, carpeted living room back to his basement door, slipping through it and down the stairs. He had to leave the door slightly ajar, realizing that the sound of it closing would clue her in on his voyeurism, unintentional as it had started. Safely back in his suite, he let his breath go; he hadn't even realized that he'd been holding it. His cock was incredibly hard, thinking about Nancy warming that thick vegetable up between her bountiful tits before using it to pleasure herself. He grabbed his tissue box and furiously whacked off, moaning and cumming into some tissues after less than 30 seconds. Feeling tired post-orgasm, Dale quickly brushed his teeth and went to bed.   Dale slept in on Sunday and then played some video games. Nancy and Michael went out for dinner, so he ordered in. He actually felt a bit disappointed that Nancy didn't come downstairs that night, but was also glad that she wasn't sad enough to do so.   On Monday, after breakfast, Michael gave Nancy a kiss and left on his extended assignment. Dale suspected that Nancy's husband was the cause of her tears, so he wasn't going to miss him. Melanie joined Dale for lunch, the platinum blonde eating her salad and talking about how she was always hungry since losing the weight. "But it's totally worth it, right, Dale?" She lifted her arms up and thrust out her chest. Dale noticed that she was wearing a more form-fitting top that day, which showed off her new hourglass figure, and he nodded, though he noted that her 19-year-old curves had nothing on Nancy's.   That night, after playing some video games, Dale noted that the light upstairs was still on and went up. The living room was lit up but nobody seemed to be there. He went to turn the light off, but then noticed Nancy sleeping on the couch. He also saw that her gown had opened, showing off one gorgeous, naked tit and the inner thigh of one shapely leg. He froze and stared. After a few seconds he shifted closer, making sure not to make any noise as he leaned over to examine that glorious boob. It was round, firm-looking, with a darker pink areola surrounding a poky nipple, probably hard from the cool night air. His eyes shifted down to the thigh of her smooth-shaven legs, the ivory whiteness of her skin enticing him. He felt his hard cock pressing insistently into the restrictive fabric of his jeans. "Nancy?" he whispered softly. He was taking a chance, if she woke up, then she would get upset about her state of undress, but he wanted to get closer, so he had to make sure that she was soundly asleep. After no response, he spoke her name louder, still nothing. Finally, he took a breath and spoke aloud, "Nancy," and waited, holding his breath. She continued to sleep. Emboldened, Dale knelt down beside her to examine that amazing tit. This close, he could make out small bumps in her areola around the nipple, and the slight depression in the middle of the prominence. That's where milk would come out, he told himself, and his cock gave a twitch of acknowledgment. He wanted to suck on that wonderful looking mammary, but with her asleep, that felt wrong to him. Plus, if he touched her and she woke up, he would be in real trouble. He moved his face further down her body to her thighs. Keeping his eyes on her face, he very carefully lifted her robe aside to reveal her panties. That night she had worn translucent black mesh ones that hinted at her trimmed pussy hair. This close, he breathed in her musky aroma. He had heard that pussy smelled like fish, but this was nothing like that. His cock was actually starting to hurt. He raised himself back up, considered for a few seconds as he continued gazing down upon Nancy's half-naked form, and then unzipped, allowing his erection to breathe. He stepped back a bit, which would allow him to quickly sidestep around the couch if Nancy started to wake up, and started to slowly wank, the scent of her pussy fresh in his mind. He imagined himself taking that glorious boob into his mouth and suckling on it as she jacked him off. Then she would pull those panties down and open her legs, inviting him to thrust his virgin cock inside her sexy, mature body. He squinted his eyes between her legs. He could just about make out her engorged vaginal lips through the sheer fabric, he was going to cum soon, "You need help with that?" His eyes flicked back to her face. She was awake and smiling at him. Here's How Nancy Saw It. Three days previous, on Friday night, Nancy was very upset again, but Dale had heard her crying and came upstairs to comfort her. Bless him! she thought. If only she could have a son like him, so caring. As they sat on the living room couch, he accidentally made a double entendre about fixing a leak and got embarrassed. She put her hand on his shoulder, a safe expression of her unfulfilled need for loving physical contact. "It's okay, Dale, you're such a good boy." Then she looked down and saw the tent of his erection through his robe. Her brain cross-wired, her affection for the boy she had babysat years ago getting mixed up with the sexy, masculine form of the young man who was sitting so close to her, their robes the only things separating them, She realized that she had started to squeeze his shoulder, and rose to her feet, her face flushed. Dale rose, too, like a true gentleman, and she impulsively pulled him into a hug. She was very aware of his hard penis, so close to her vagina now, "Thank you for checking on me," she breathed into his ear. Her body felt overheated, and she quickly broke the hug and headed back to her bedroom. Her husband Michael was asleep, of course. She thought about trying to wake him up for sex, but he tended to get upset if his sleep was interrupted. She lay there next to him, feeling incredibly alone. Finally, she fell asleep as well.   Saturday night, Again there was no nookie with Michael at bedtime, and he was going away for several weeks on Monday! The way he was acting, Nancy wondered if he was even going to miss her. Then she thought about that nicely-shaped zucchini that she had bought just the other day, waiting for her in the fridge. Michael didn't allow her to buy sex toys, saying that he should be enough for her, but the gourd's phallic shape had attracted her eye. It was a vegetable, not a dildo, so she decided that it didn't count. She was still dressed in the sexy nightie that she had worn when she had tried and failed to entice her husband, so she figured that she was dressed well enough. Her robe remained on the back of the door as she headed down to the kitchen. She grabbed the cold vegetable, ran it under some water, and then held the fridge-cold gourd to her chest to warm it up. Soon, she became impatient and moved it down between her legs, There was a phantom sound, as if of a small intake of breath, and she turned toward the darkness of the living room. "Hello?" Had her husband woke up? she wondered. She headed into that room, but found it empty. She was about to turn back when she saw light from Dale's basement suite through its slightly open door. Had Dale seen her in her nightie? she wondered. She headed to the door. "Huh huh huh, " Nancy frowned. Was the young man exercising at this time of night? She paused for a moment, but then opened the door a bit. As she leaned over to peer down the stairs into the basement suite, she saw Dale standing there, cock in hand, pleasuring himself. Her eyes fixed onto his erection. It was thicker than she imagined, she figured more than 7 inches, and his fingers flew along the shaft. Then he grabbed a couple tissues from a nearby box and, grunting and gasping, blew his load into them. Such a waste, she thought. She pulled back and returned the door to its almost closed position before she went over to the living room couch. She realized that this was where she had her first inkling of the size of Dale's package as it pushed out his robe. The zucchini was warm now. She lay down, pulled her panties aside, and thrust that gourd deep inside her very wet pussy. Thinking about Dale's hard cock, so fresh in her memory, she came quickly.   On Sunday night, she convinced her husband to finally pay some attention to her. They weren't going to see each other for weeks, she cajoled him. He relented, and they went out to the local pub for wings and some drinks. When they got back, both were tipsy. Nancy pulled Michael into their bedroom and began undressing him. "Nancy, I don't think we should; oh, okay, that feels good, " he moaned. She had pulled his 6" cock out and started sucking on it, a part of her mind noting that her husband wasn't as long as the young man in their basement. She took half of his member, sucked, pulled back, and then moved forward to take most of the rest of him. "Oh, Nancy, " He began to thrust his hips into her face. After another minute or so of fellating her husband, she pushed him back onto the bed and quickly removed her dress. In an instant, she was upon him. Growling, she angled his hard cock up and slid her wet pussy down onto it. "Yes, " she hissed in pleasure. She was so lubricated that he bottomed out in her on the next thrust. "Yes, yes, yes, " she moaned as she rode him hard. "Wait, hun, I, oh, shit, " Michael thrust up into her and she felt the warm liquidity of his cum shooting inside her. "No, " she moaned as she switched to grinding upon him, trying to get enough stimulation on her clit to orgasm herself. Finally, she felt his member shrink inside her until she could derive no more pleasure from it, and lay down upon him, frustrated. "Sorry," he offered, "I guess it's been a while." 'It's been a while,' not, 'You were just too sexy,' which had been his excuse for cumming quickly when their relationship was still fresh and exciting. She was unable to get him hard again, and so they got ready for sleep. She dreamt of a faceless man on top of her, thrusting his bigger-than-average cock inside her fertile body, bringing her to the edge of ecstasy. Then he leaned forward and she could see Dale staring down at her, his expression a mixture of pleasure and adoration. She started awake and moaned. Even in her dreams, she was denied her orgasm. She was too tired to go downstairs and grab the zucchini again, and so she returned to a fitful sleep.   After breakfast on Monday, Nancy kissed her husband goodbye. Dale quickly headed out for his classes, and she was left all alone. She was tempted to go for the zucchini, but had to prepare for her Gourmand party. An hour later, housewives from the neighborhood gathered to find out about the latest ingenious kitchen gadgets, interesting spice combinations, and savory soup mixes. A couple hours later, after most everyone left, she was writing up the orders when her friend Trish sashayed over. "So how's it going with the new renter?" the tall blonde asked. "Dale? Oh, he's fine, um, I mean it's going fine." Nancy's face reddened. Trish sat at the table across from her and crossed her capri-clad legs. "He Is fine, isn't he? I mean, he isn't a hard body, but youth is its own attraction, isn't it? Once men start getting close to forty, things start getting, droopy." She gave a moue of disappointment. Nancy silently agreed, thinking of Michael's expanding gut. Then she had a moment of concern, Trish had been ogling Dale? She told herself that she was being protective, but wondered if it was something else, something more primal. She shook her head. "Oh, Trish! Did you get tired of that last 'handyman'?" Her friend gave her a toothy grin. "I think I ruined that boy for other women, but he graduated college and is off to wherever now, Texas, I think? God, could he get it up, over and over again. If I wasn't fixed, he'd have knocked me up with a whole litter of rug rats." She sighed, staring into space. Nancy pointedly kept filling out the Gourmand forms. Trish came back to the present. "Oh, speaking of which, how's it going with Michael for baby number one?" Nancy's pen slipped and she had to scratch out her mistake. "We're still trying," she replied noncommittally. "Been a while, huh? What?" Trish counted on her fingers. "Hm, almost a year now? You sure ol' Michael's not shooting blanks?" Nancy slammed her pen down. "Maybe that's none of your business, Trish?" The tall, leggy blonde got up, looking uncomfortable. "Oh, shit, Nance, I'm sorry." Then she hugged her friend around her shoulders. "Forget I said anything, huh?" Nancy nodded, feeling the tears about to start again. Trish broke off the hug and headed for the door. "But don't forget to tell Dale I could use his help around my property! College students need all the extra cash they can get, right?" Nancy waved and thought about it. Dale and that man-eater? She definitely didn't like the thought of that.   When Dale got home, Nancy couldn't get the vision of the young man pleasuring himself out of her head. Had he seen her in her nightie, the sight of her body enough to inspire that level of excitement? Finally, she texted him that she was going out for dinner, and that he would have to fend for himself. When she got back, she realized that she had drunk a little too much again. She had dressed in tight jeans and a nice blouse that showed off her midriff, and several men at the pub had bought her drinks, though of course she only accepted the ones that came straight from the bartender or server. She had never had a Long Island Iced Tea before, and it was now her new favorite, but boy did they go down easy. When bedtime came, she felt alone in her empty marital bed. Come to think of it, she thought, it felt empty even when her husband was there, snoring away beside her. She threw off the covers, donned her robe, and headed down to the living room. She could see Dale's light was on under his door, but she dared not knock on it for fear of what she might do in her current state. She flicked on the light switch and sat down on the couch. Maybe some TV? she thought. Then she heard Dale coming up the basement steps, and what she did next would change their relationship forever. She dropped to the side, laying across the cushions of the couch as if she had fallen asleep there. She told herself that maybe he wouldn't see her lying there, but part of her hoped that he would, and then, ? She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. She heard the slight shuff of Dale's steps approaching on the carpet and then realized that when she laid down, her robe had opened up around her chest and thighs, but it was too late to fix that, she knew he was there now, looking at her. She kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep. He was silent. She really wanted to peek, but with the light on, he would notice, wouldn't he? She wanted to hold her breath to hear any sound he made, but knew that she had to keep her breathing soft and even. She heard him shuffle closer. Was he looking at her bare boob? "Nancy?" he whispered softly. She continued to breathe, in, out, "Nancy?" This one was a loud whisper. "Nancy." Not a question; it sounded like he was calling her out. Did he know that she was faking? In for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandmother used to say; she kept her eyes closed. She didn't hear him move, but a shadow fell across her face. She was pretty sure that he had leaned over her, examining her half-naked body. Would he find it disgusting, like her husband? she wondered. Then her face was no longer in shadow. A moment later, she felt the fabric of her robe slipping off of her thighs and hips. He was undressing her! How dare he? She almost sat up to give him a piece of her mind, but the excitement of the forbidden situation made her giddy. He hadn't actually touched her (yet!), just moved her robe. She decided that she would wait to see what would happen. She heard the zipper of his jeans opening, and felt her heart rate increase, the blood rushing through her overheated body. Was he, ? She cracked one eyelid, just a little, making sure to keep her body perfectly still. Dale was standing at the side of the couch, his eyes firmly fixed between her legs. His turgid erection was in his hands, pointed right at her as he quietly wanked himself. She didn't even think. Her mouth was dry, and needed some, liquid. "You need help with that?" she asked as she lifted her head to regard him, smiling. His eyes flicked back to her face. "Uh!" She saw, as if in slow motion, his cock shoot a mighty spurt of semen at her. A moment later, she felt the hot cum splash against the fabric of her sheer panties. "Uh!" A second, smaller blast hit her exposed tit. "Uh!" That one hit her upper thigh. She stared at Dale, his eyes wide in horror at the realization of what he had just done. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He ran for the basement suite door, his jostling member flicking the last drops of his cum everywhere as he went. The Aftermath of a devastating Embarrassment. Nancy lay on the couch, her mind awhirl. Her 19-year-old renter, Dale, had found her there, seemingly asleep, and had pulled out his cock to masturbate while watching her half-naked body. But she had been faking, and when she playfully asked him if he needed some help, he had cum all over her and then ran away back to his basement suite! Her mind in a tipsy, unreal state, she crooked a finger and extracted some of his semen from her tit. The pearlescent substance was still warm. Her mind was teetering between horror and excitement, sticking with a safe curiosity while it decided which way to fall. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, feeling the viscosity of the boy's forbidden fluid between them. Her pussy was so wet, Then she remembered that Dale's first shot of cum had hit right between her legs, and she sat up to survey "the damage". She gasped when she saw the white stain right on her panty-covered pussy mound, surrounded by a darker stain where his semen had already soaked into the mesh of the undergarment. He couldn't have aimed that better if he had tried! No wonder her puss felt wet; it had been soaked by hot teenage cum! Emergency, excitement, coursing through her. She wasn't on the pill, of course, as she and Michael had been trying for the last year to conceive a child, and there was so much cum soaking into her pussy through the fabric of her panties, why was she just staring at it? She reached down, pulled the front of her panties away from her crotch, and felt her skin cool as Dale's liquid love dried against it. She saw that her vulva was engorged, her vaginal lips open and receptive, she could see that the first spurt of the boy's glistening semen had glazed everything down there, and she was certain that some had actually slipped inside. With that thought, her teetering mind lurched to one side. It was too late to stop this, Dale's sperm was already inside her, she was so horny, she brought her finger down and touched her prominent clitoris, gasping at how sensitive it was. Gotta cum, she told herself, gotta cum, She dipped that finger, still coated with the cum from her tit, between her pussy lips while the fingers of her other hand manipulated her clit. A few seconds later, she arched her back in orgasm as her needy pussy sucked all the sperm off of that finger. "God, " she moaned. The orgasm that she had been denied since the previous night rushed through her, making her curvy body shake in pleasure. Finally, she flopped back down to the cushions, breathing heavily. No longer overwhelmed by the situation, her mind quickly went to work. Everything was fine, as her period was actually due in a few days; there was no chance that she could get pregnant at that time. "Oh, thank God," she sighed, relieved. She grabbed some paper towels and wiped away the rest of Dale's semen from her tit and thigh, though she kept her moist panties on. She rather liked the naughty thought of his sperm pressing into her pudendum, struggling uselessly to fulfill their genetic imperative. Then she re-tied her robe and knocked on Dale's door. There was no answer. She opened it and called down, "Dale?" She heard sniffling, and headed down the stairs. She found him in bed, buried under the covers and crying. "Oh, Dale, " She sat on the bed and put her hand on his trembling form. At her touch, he stilled. She kept her hand there on his shoulder, and a few seconds later he poked his head out. "I'm So sorry!" he blubbered, "I, you were just there, so beautiful, and, and I just, " Her face reddened. "You think I'm beautiful?" He looked at her, distracted from his remorse. "Yeah! You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met!" Then his face dropped. "And then I did, that! Oh God, " She took his face in her hands. "Dale, stop." He paused and blinked at her. Assured that she had his full attention now, she continued, "What you did, while really not acceptable, was because you're a hot-blooded teenager. Did you know that the rational part of the male brain doesn't even fully develop until you're, like, 25?" He continued to blink at her. "Really?" "Yeah, google it," she responded. "So I can forgive a one-time mistake, especially since there was no harm done." "Really?" he repeated, hope shining in his eyes. "But I came, all over you, " She blushed and let go of his face. "It's okay. I shouldn't have been half-naked on the couch, so we'll call this a mulligan, to use a golf term, which means you get another shot. Can we just forget this happened?" She held out her hand. He threw the covers off so that he could give it a shake. "Oh, thank you, Nancy, thank you, " She stood up. "Tomorrow's a new day, sweet dreams." Then she headed back to her bedroom. As she hung up her robe, she considered changing into fresh panties, but found that she was horny again from the feeling of Dale's slick cum being absorbed into her skin and between her vaginal lips. She climbed under the covers and then slipped her hand into her panties. She was still very wet, and not only from Dale's semen, she realized. Two fingers pressed between her folds as her other hand massaged one substantial tit. Her boobs were starting to feel sensitive from her oncoming period, so she made sure to be gentle with them. Soon she was pushing three fingers inside herself, which was a little difficult but felt really good. She considered for a moment and then pulled them out. Rubbing those fingers all around her pussy and pubic hair, she gathered the last few drops of Dale's semen and then slid those inside her, ramming her fingers home until she came again at the thrill of pushing more of the handsome boy's forbidden seed inside her. As she fell asleep, she told herself that this was a one-time thing. She woke to the feel of being fucked. Dale was above her, his face blissful, beatific as he gazed down at her with love. She looked at his slim form, at his above-average cock playing peekaboo from inside her pussy as it sawed in and out. "Dale, why, ?" "I love you," Dale replied. "I love you, " She was already nearing another orgasm. "Oh, Dale, we shouldn't." She tried to recall, wasn't she between periods right then, the most dangerous time, or was it safe? It felt hard to think straight. "Oh," Dale moaned as he thrust harder and faster. "Oh," Nancy knew that she had to get him off of her, or she might be carrying his baby instead of her husband's in nine months! At that thought, though, her own orgasm exploded from deep inside her as his cock angled just right and skidded along her G-spot. "Oh! Dale! No!" But her overheated body betrayed her, and she reflexively wrapped her arms and legs about him, making it so that he couldn't have pulled out if he wanted. "No, " she moaned as her body shook, her fertile pussy rippling around his primed cock. "Don't, " "Uh!" Dale grunted and thrust deep inside her. She felt his dangerous cock throb as his first blast of dangerous, sperm-filled cum penetrated her innermost depths. "Oh!" she cried out as her pleasure ramped up upon feeling her ripe body being inseminated. Then she woke up orgasming, her fingers thrusting into her pussy. "Uh! Uh! Oh!" Dale wasn't there. She was both relieved and disappointed. While Dale's sperm would be unsuccessful in their genetic mission due to Nancy's upcoming period, the seed that had been planted in her mind bore fruit. Blissfully, a smile on her face, she fell back to sleep. To be continued in part 2, by Krosis, for Literotica.

 A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit's favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb. Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving"Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter," Miss Americana said. "She's flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I'll help her write there's no way she can fail."Professor Whirter shook his head. "Miss Americana!" he gasped. "The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!"The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A's on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana's sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor's newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana's expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. "Professor," she growled, "my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade's money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?"The Professor's blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. "Alright, alright," he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine."Ready?" Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum."Ready!" Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it."Perfect," she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket."Told you I heard a noise," the tall Pilgrim said to the short one."Heaven defend us!" the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them."Hello," Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. "Stay back, witch!" he said.His companion seemed less sure. "Are you sure she's a witch?" he asked."She's a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?" the short one asked."Hmm," the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. "Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,"He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. "Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!" he said. "No speaking hexes, either!"Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims' long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. "You boys are making a big mistake," she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. "Fortunately I can correct it,"But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker."Miss Americana!" Professor Whirter's voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. "You cannot harm anyone in this period!" he said. "Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!""Oh," Miss Americana gulped. "Right,"She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less."On second thought," she said, "I surrender."She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana's hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain."There," he said, backing up. "The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.""If you say so," Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim's head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. "Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out."Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. "Let's take her to the Elders," he said. "Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her."Miss Americana rolled her eyes. "That's what I said, you oafs!" she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day's large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. 'Who would wear a bikini during this time period?' she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea."We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest," the tall pilgrim said."We think she's a witch," the short one said. "Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?"Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly."I am not a witch!" she boldly declared. "I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan's palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!"'That ought to fool these simpletons,' she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony's current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her."Hmm," Captain Standish said. "If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so," he said."Prove it? And how should I do that?" Miss Americana asked, indignantly."If you were a harem girl," Captain Standish said, "then you know how to dance like one. So, show us." He turned his head to the man next to him. "Do you permit this Reverend?" he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana's flesh. But then he nodded. "If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it," he said.Americana gasped. "H-how can you ask me that?" she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. "The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission," he told her. "So if your story is true then prove it." He nodded up to the large table. "You can do it on there, if you would be so kind."Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily."Very well," she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. "But I cannot dance in these!" she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana's manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. "Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!" she said.And with that, she began to dance."H-holy shit," one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe."That's blasphemy," a second beside him murmured. "Also, god fucking damn," he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl."Verily, my friends," he said, "I was so distracted by the witch's performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize' stuff into the fire and, look what happened!"His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster's ear."Did the Lord really condone this, William?" he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. "After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale," he said. "Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up." Taking some of Captain Standish's popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder."Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!" he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. "The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!"At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana's wiggling and grinding bubble-ass."What?!" Governor Bradford gasped. "But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we'll starve! Why have they turned back?!"The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana."When the Sachem's party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one," he said. "The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,"At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock."My ass is not fat!" she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. "Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn't lead to fat!" she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. "What's a stair-masterer?" he asked. "Some sort of Turkish siege engine?"Myles shrugged, puzzled."Never mind that!" Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community's attention off Miss Americana. "This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!""Hmm," said Captain Standish. "What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.""But the whole point is we have no food!" Reverend Brewster pointed out. "What sort of peace offering could we give?""We could give them our guns, or the cannon," Governor Bradford said."And surrender our only military leverage?" Captain Standish scoffed. "I would sooner dump them in the sea!""The Indians are yet heathens," Reverend Brewster pointed out. "They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering' might they be interested in?"For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped."No," she whispered. "No, no, No!" Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. "How, how can you even consider that?!" she hissed. "Aren't you Puritans?! A Godly people?!"Reverend Brewster shook his head."We are," he affirmed. "But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!"Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana's body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them."I know well the meaning of the scarlet A's," Reverend Brewster said. "The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?"Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones upon her gloves, and finally remembered her Hawthorne.'Great Justice! Why didn't I pay more attention in high school lit class?' she thought, marking the first time in all of recorded history that this has occurred.But then she looked back up, and saw that all the Pilgrims were nodding in agreement with their spiritual leader. She swallowed.Suddenly, a sound came over her microphone. "You made the choice to go back into the past," Professor Whirter chided her. He could not quite keep the relish out of his voice, to see the arrogant heroine hoisted upon her own scantily-clad petard. "It is your duty now to make sure history goes forward, no matter what that takes!" He cut the feed again.Americana gasped. But then, squirming before the staring Pilgrims, she bowed her head and then slowly nodded."Very well," she said. "If it is what must happen, then so be it."At this, one of the few surviving female Pilgrims could remain properly silent no longer."Hey!" she snapped, from where she stood in the door of her roughly-built house, an apron over her simple dress and her hands soiled with flour from her long labors to prepare the day's feast. "You might fool them," she said, nodding at the men, "but you can't fool me. Given how you just danced in front of my husband, and that after all this time you still wear that harem attire with relish, don't pretend you don't want every cock you can take you thrice-damned Jezebel!"At this, Miss Americana gasped in shock. But she did not get a chance to respond, for around her the men had already launched into preparing their response, it had to be sent swiftly, before the Native column could get too far. With haste, a runner was sent, vanishing into the woods.In due time, a large party of Native Americans emerged from the forest and began to approach. In the meantime, Miss Americana had gotten down off the table, and now stood under guard nearby, beside and in front of the table of the elders. Miss Americana gulped in trepidation when she saw their numbers, there may have been forty or so adult male Pilgrims left, but there were more than twice that number of Indians approaching, all of them men.At the head of the column, there came a grand and muscular figure with burnished bronze skin, a large head-dress on his head. This, she knew from history and from the whispered comments of the Pilgrim elders just beside her, was Massasoit, the Great Sachem of the Wampanoag people. It was only the treaty he had signed with the now-late Governor Carver, and its attendant protection from raiding and repeated deliveries of food, that had enabled the meager settlement around her to survive at all. At his side walked another Native man in a mixture of native and Pilgrim garb, from more comments among the elders Americana discerned that this was Tisquantum, better known to most white schoolchildren as 'Squanto', the Pilgrims' tutor and interpreter. Although he normally lived amongst the Pilgrims, he had gone off to help escort Massasoit in for this very important meeting.They were also, she could not help but notice, much more buff and handsome than she expected. As she gazed upon them, a strange tingle ran up and down between her legs, accompanied by a sudden and mysterious abundance of fluids.Behind Massasoit came a column of nearly a hundred Wampanoag warriors; a few came armed, but most were instead carrying great baskets filled with food. Turkeys; fish; pumpkins; maize; squash and cranberries, all in enormous quantity. Five recently felled deer were also carried, each on the shoulders to two strapping Wampanoag hunters. The Pilgrims' own supplies were very meager, more so than they would even admit to in the historical record, and Miss Americana realized that without the Indians' food the First Thanksgiving Feast would instead be replaced by a Great Starvation, and the probable extinction of the Plymouth colony.However, although they had come back, the Native American party remained suspicious. The majority of the column stopped just short of the entrance to the colony, and only Massasoit, Squanto, and a small honor guard of strapping warriors came forward to meet the Elders at their table."Greetings, Squanto," Governor Bradford said, standing. "And holy Greetings to the great king Massasoit, may the blessings of our God be upon him.""Greetings, Governor," Squanto replied. He bowed slightly, and gestured to his muscular boss beside him. "But the Great Sachem's mind is not rested. This one," he said, nodding towards Miss Americana, "and her, impressive, proportions, caused him some distress, that perhaps he had been lied to. I understand this is not the case?"Behind him, one by one, each of the native warriors was leaning out and gaping at Miss Americana in awe. In all their days and travels, they had never seen breasts nearly as enormous as hers, nor a figure quite so bountifully and visibly fertile."Please express our deep apologies for the misunderstanding to the Sachem," Governor Bradford replied. "This woman," he said, gesturing toward where Miss Americana stood chained, "is not a member of our community. We desired to give him a gift worthy of his own generosity, but as you know we have no food to spare. So we," He glanced at the two Pilgrims who had captured Americana, and still held her leash. "Obtained her," he decided to say at last, "so that we could have an appropriate present to reward him for his magnanimity."Squanto turned to Massasoit, and they shared a brief conversation in the Wampanoag tongue, which Americana could not understand, and, she gathered from their nervous squirming, the Pilgrims mostly could not either. Then Squanto turned back to them."I see," he said. He eyed Miss Americana up and down. "The Great Sachem wants to know, exactly what is the nature of this, gift?"Sitting near and behind her, Reverend Brewster looked up at Miss Americana's staggering curves."You reply to that one, Scarlet-Lettered One," he told her. "From what we have seen of your instincts with that body, you should not need words to do so,"Miss Americana blushed deeply. Then, she nodded. Before Massasoit, Squanto, the Elders, the Wampanoag warriors, and the entire Pilgrim community, she walked over to stand before the end of the Pilgrims' great main table. This faced back, directly towards where Massasoit stood, some few meters behind her. Reaching up, blush deepening on her cheeks, she put her hand between her breasts, and with a flick undid her golden star-shaped bra catch. Her huge bra, nevertheless under vast strain to contain her super-human rack, exploded apart, allowing her gigantic breasts to spill forth to jostle and sway before everyone."God, damn!" she heard Myles Standish say. Reverend Brewster, sitting right beside him, was himself too occupied by the dropping of his own jaw to call him on his blasphemy. Even the Pilgrim women appeared breathless at the sight of Americana's giant udders. A great hew and shout rose among the Wampanoag column, pointing and gaping in disbelief. Even Massasoit himself, who to this point had stood tall and still like a bronzed god among lesser men, seemed to be affected. Though he said nothing, as Miss Americana's huge breasts shook before him his eyebrows went up, and Miss Americana herself swallowed, as she noticed what seemed to be the stirrings of something disturbingly large in the front of his deerskin trousers.But she could not stop. Shrugging out of her bra, she turned and laid it on the table before her. Then, reaching back, she slipped her gloved hands into the hips of her panties. She squirmed for a few seconds, as she felt the eyes of every single member of both nations staring at her squirming ass. Then slowly, bending low, she guided her panties up and over her ass, and down her thighs. She slipped one boot out of them, then the other, and left them in a tiny colorful heap between her feet.Then, her lips trembling and her cheeks bright pink under her mask, Miss Americana made the one signal a woman could make that, regardless of language and culture, no man could mis-understand. Bending over, she put both hands on the table. Her voluptuous ass lifted up high and wiggling behind her, she slowly slid her boots wider and wider apart, until her long and mighty legs were spread at a nearly forty-five degree angle to either side. Then lifting her head, she looked back over her shoulder, her blue eyes blinking moistly. Her dripping cunt was pointed straight back at Massasoit, gaping slightly to show her tender inner lips between the thicker outer ones, in clear and open invitation.Despite the clarity of Americana's signal, Massasoit still turned and, eyes never leaving the glistening cunt being offered to him, had a brief conversation with Squanto."The Great Sachem wishes to know," Squanto said, afterwards, "whether this gift is for him alone, or for his people as well."The Pilgrim Elders looked at each other.Reverend Brewster shrugged. "As I said," he stated, "at a certain point one must ask, does God care about a few more?"Governor Bradford nodded. "Anyone and everyone can partake of our gift," he said, "as the Chief wishes.""Oh, Great Justice!" Miss Americana whimpered, her eyes blinking in horror. But, knowing she had no choice if she was not to change history, although they trembled, her mighty thighs remained spread wide, and her hands, though they shivered, remained planted flat to the table.Squanto and Massasoit shared another brief conversation. It concluded with what appeared to be a magnanimous gesture by Massasoit, towards Americana's waiting and naked cunt. Squanto nodded, and then stepped forward."The Great Sachem accepts your generous gift," he said. Reaching up, he began to take off his shirt. "As he knows your laws would not permit you to do so yourselves, he wishes that I test her first, to make sure she is worthy of him. He will have her after me, and then the rest of the tribe."Miss Americana let out a tiny whimper of disbelief, as she heard this. But, strangely, the news seemed to have another effect on her cunt, where, between her muscular thighs, her naked slit suddenly seemed to drip with even more gooey juices than before.Unable to watch her fate coming, Americana turned her head away and instead looked down the table. This did little to lessen her humiliation, however, as she now just got to watch the entire Pilgrim community staring up at her, as she stood ready to secure their futures with the much-questioned purity of her gaping cunt.Standing behind her, Squanto took off his pants. This caused an immediate stir among the Pilgrim women."By the Lord," the woman who had called out Miss Americana said, her eyes going hypocritically wide.Another shook her head slowly. "I, I had, suspected," she said. "But I did not realize the true extent of the native's, gifts."Fortunately for the Pilgrim women, their men were too busy staring at the naked Queen of Justice to see where their wives' attention was directed. Meanwhile Miss Americana, her face down and looking at the table, was the only one who could not see what was coming up behind her. So she didn't have any clue what she was in for, until Squanto's dark hands appeared upon her pale curvy hips, and he swung himself up into position."Oh!" Miss Americana gasped, her blue eyes spreading wide, as she realized that, with both of his hands accounted for on her flesh, what she was feeling nuzzling up against her drooling cunt could not be a fist or arm, as she in the initial moment of contact suspected. She gasped deeply, her eyes spreading even wider, as his tip started to part her. She shook her head."Oh, oh my God," she said, as her cunt lips spread wider and wider around the incoming bronze cock-head, until they quivered to either side of the crest of his uncircumcised cock. "I, I didn't know," she whimpered, "that, that Squanto was so hung!" Her voice rose up to a squeal, as he thrust deep inside her."Is," the native interpreter calmly corrected the English-woman on her grammar. Then, taking a tight grip on her hips, he began to slam his massive cock vigorously back and forth inside her drooling slit.Miss Americana shook and squealed, as he nailed her. All around her, the Pilgrim men and women stared in awe. But Americana was not the only one to be affected by the experience for long."Oh, yes!" Squanto announced. Sliding his eager dark hands around from her hips he cupped her enormous breasts from below, and squeezed them, as he continued to nail her gaping cunt with bountiful vigor and abandon. "This, strange woman, is indeed, worthy of the Sachem!" he said. He rolled his head and gasped in awe. "My goodness! She is so tight!" he marveled, squeezing her enormous hooters and stroking their erect tips with his fingers. "And yet, there is an ocean inside her hips!""Very good!" Massasoit announced, revealing that, though he naturally depended on his interpreter for complex and important negotiations, he had had the foresight to learn some rudimentary English himself. He removed his pants and then his loincloth, which caused another stir among the Pilgrim women, as it was revealed that Squanto was not a unique outlier among his people.To be continued in part 2, By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.

 A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit's favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb. Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving"Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter," Miss Americana said. "She's flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I'll help her write there's no way she can fail."Professor Whirter shook his head. "Miss Americana!" he gasped. "The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!"The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A's on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana's sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor's newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana's expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. "Professor," she growled, "my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade's money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?"The Professor's blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. "Alright, alright," he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine."Ready?" Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum."Ready!" Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it."Perfect," she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket."Told you I heard a noise," the tall Pilgrim said to the short one."Heaven defend us!" the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them."Hello," Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. "Stay back, witch!" he said.His companion seemed less sure. "Are you sure she's a witch?" he asked."She's a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?" the short one asked."Hmm," the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. "Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,"He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. "Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!" he said. "No speaking hexes, either!"Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims' long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. "You boys are making a big mistake," she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. "Fortunately I can correct it,"But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker."Miss Americana!" Professor Whirter's voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. "You cannot harm anyone in this period!" he said. "Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!""Oh," Miss Americana gulped. "Right,"She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less."On second thought," she said, "I surrender."She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana's hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain."There," he said, backing up. "The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.""If you say so," Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim's head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. "Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out."Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. "Let's take her to the Elders," he said. "Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her."Miss Americana rolled her eyes. "That's what I said, you oafs!" she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day's large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. 'Who would wear a bikini during this time period?' she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea."We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest," the tall pilgrim said."We think she's a witch," the short one said. "Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?"Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly."I am not a witch!" she boldly declared. "I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan's palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!"'That ought to fool these simpletons,' she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony's current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her."Hmm," Captain Standish said. "If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so," he said."Prove it? And how should I do that?" Miss Americana asked, indignantly."If you were a harem girl," Captain Standish said, "then you know how to dance like one. So, show us." He turned his head to the man next to him. "Do you permit this Reverend?" he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana's flesh. But then he nodded. "If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it," he said.Americana gasped. "H-how can you ask me that?" she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. "The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission," he told her. "So if your story is true then prove it." He nodded up to the large table. "You can do it on there, if you would be so kind."Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily."Very well," she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. "But I cannot dance in these!" she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana's manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. "Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!" she said.And with that, she began to dance."H-holy shit," one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe."That's blasphemy," a second beside him murmured. "Also, god fucking damn," he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl."Verily, my friends," he said, "I was so distracted by the witch's performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize' stuff into the fire and, look what happened!"His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster's ear."Did the Lord really condone this, William?" he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. "After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale," he said. "Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up." Taking some of Captain Standish's popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder."Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!" he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. "The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!"At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana's wiggling and grinding bubble-ass."What?!" Governor Bradford gasped. "But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we'll starve! Why have they turned back?!"The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana."When the Sachem's party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one," he said. "The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,"At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock."My ass is not fat!" she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. "Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn't lead to fat!" she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. "What's a stair-masterer?" he asked. "Some sort of Turkish siege engine?"Myles shrugged, puzzled."Never mind that!" Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community's attention off Miss Americana. "This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!""Hmm," said Captain Standish. "What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.""But the whole point is we have no food!" Reverend Brewster pointed out. "What sort of peace offering could we give?""We could give them our guns, or the cannon," Governor Bradford said."And surrender our only military leverage?" Captain Standish scoffed. "I would sooner dump them in the sea!""The Indians are yet heathens," Reverend Brewster pointed out. "They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering' might they be interested in?"For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped."No," she whispered. "No, no, No!" Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. "How, how can you even consider that?!" she hissed. "Aren't you Puritans?! A Godly people?!"Reverend Brewster shook his head."We are," he affirmed. "But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!"Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana's body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them."I know well the meaning of the scarlet A's," Reverend Brewster said. "The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?"Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones upon her gloves, and finally remembered her Hawthorne.'Great Justice! Why didn't I pay more attention in high school lit class?' she thought, marking the first time in all of recorded history that this has occurred.But then she looked back up, and saw that all the Pilgrims were nodding in agreement with their spiritual leader. She swallowed.Suddenly, a sound came over her microphone. "You made the choice to go back into the past," Professor Whirter chided her. He could not quite keep the relish out of his voice, to see the arrogant heroine hoisted upon her own scantily-clad petard. "It is your duty now to make sure history goes forward, no matter what that takes!" He cut the feed again.Americana gasped. But then, squirming before the staring Pilgrims, she bowed her head and then slowly nodded."Very well," she said. "If it is what must happen, then so be it."At this, one of the few surviving female Pilgrims could remain properly silent no longer."Hey!" she snapped, from where she stood in the door of her roughly-built house, an apron over her simple dress and her hands soiled with flour from her long labors to prepare the day's feast. "You might fool them," she said, nodding at the men, "but you can't fool me. Given how you just danced in front of my husband, and that after all this time you still wear that harem attire with relish, don't pretend you don't want every cock you can take you thrice-damned Jezebel!"At this, Miss Americana gasped in shock. But she did not get a chance to respond, for around her the men had already launched into preparing their response, it had to be sent swiftly, before the Native column could get too far. With haste, a runner was sent, vanishing into the woods.In due time, a large party of Native Americans emerged from the forest and began to approach. In the meantime, Miss Americana had gotten down off the table, and now stood under guard nearby, beside and in front of the table of the elders. Miss Americana gulped in trepidation when she saw their numbers, there may have been forty or so adult male Pilgrims left, but there were more than twice that number of Indians approaching, all of them men.At the head of the column, there came a grand and muscular figure with burnished bronze skin, a large head-dress on his head. This, she knew from history and from the whispered comments of the Pilgrim elders just beside her, was Massasoit, the Great Sachem of the Wampanoag people. It was only the treaty he had signed with the now-late Governor Carver, and its attendant protection from raiding and repeated deliveries of food, that had enabled the meager settlement around her to survive at all. At his side walked another Native man in a mixture of native and Pilgrim garb, from more comments among the elders Americana discerned that this was Tisquantum, better known to most white schoolchildren as 'Squanto', the Pilgrims' tutor and interpreter. Although he normally lived amongst the Pilgrims, he had gone off to help escort Massasoit in for this very important meeting.They were also, she could not help but notice, much more buff and handsome than she expected. As she gazed upon them, a strange tingle ran up and down between her legs, accompanied by a sudden and mysterious abundance of fluids.Behind Massasoit came a column of nearly a hundred Wampanoag warriors; a few came armed, but most were instead carrying great baskets filled with food. Turkeys; fish; pumpkins; maize; squash and cranberries, all in enormous quantity. Five recently felled deer were also carried, each on the shoulders to two strapping Wampanoag hunters. The Pilgrims' own supplies were very meager, more so than they would even admit to in the historical record, and Miss Americana realized that without the Indians' food the First Thanksgiving Feast would instead be replaced by a Great Starvation, and the probable extinction of the Plymouth colony.However, although they had come back, the Native American party remained suspicious. The majority of the column stopped just short of the entrance to the colony, and only Massasoit, Squanto, and a small honor guard of strapping warriors came forward to meet the Elders at their table."Greetings, Squanto," Governor Bradford said, standing. "And holy Greetings to the great king Massasoit, may the blessings of our God be upon him.""Greetings, Governor," Squanto replied. He bowed slightly, and gestured to his muscular boss beside him. "But the Great Sachem's mind is not rested. This one," he said, nodding towards Miss Americana, "and her, impressive, proportions, caused him some distress, that perhaps he had been lied to. I understand this is not the case?"Behind him, one by one, each of the native warriors was leaning out and gaping at Miss Americana in awe. In all their days and travels, they had never seen breasts nearly as enormous as hers, nor a figure quite so bountifully and visibly fertile."Please express our deep apologies for the misunderstanding to the Sachem," Governor Bradford replied. "This woman," he said, gesturing toward where Miss Americana stood chained, "is not a member of our community. We desired to give him a gift worthy of his own generosity, but as you know we have no food to spare. So we," He glanced at the two Pilgrims who had captured Americana, and still held her leash. "Obtained her," he decided to say at last, "so that we could have an appropriate present to reward him for his magnanimity."Squanto turned to Massasoit, and they shared a brief conversation in the Wampanoag tongue, which Americana could not understand, and, she gathered from their nervous squirming, the Pilgrims mostly could not either. Then Squanto turned back to them."I see," he said. He eyed Miss Americana up and down. "The Great Sachem wants to know, exactly what is the nature of this, gift?"Sitting near and behind her, Reverend Brewster looked up at Miss Americana's staggering curves."You reply to that one, Scarlet-Lettered One," he told her. "From what we have seen of your instincts with that body, you should not need words to do so,"Miss Americana blushed deeply. Then, she nodded. Before Massasoit, Squanto, the Elders, the Wampanoag warriors, and the entire Pilgrim community, she walked over to stand before the end of the Pilgrims' great main table. This faced back, directly towards where Massasoit stood, some few meters behind her. Reaching up, blush deepening on her cheeks, she put her hand between her breasts, and with a flick undid her golden star-shaped bra catch. Her huge bra, nevertheless under vast strain to contain her super-human rack, exploded apart, allowing her gigantic breasts to spill forth to jostle and sway before everyone."God, damn!" she heard Myles Standish say. Reverend Brewster, sitting right beside him, was himself too occupied by the dropping of his own jaw to call him on his blasphemy. Even the Pilgrim women appeared breathless at the sight of Americana's giant udders. A great hew and shout rose among the Wampanoag column, pointing and gaping in disbelief. Even Massasoit himself, who to this point had stood tall and still like a bronzed god among lesser men, seemed to be affected. Though he said nothing, as Miss Americana's huge breasts shook before him his eyebrows went up, and Miss Americana herself swallowed, as she noticed what seemed to be the stirrings of something disturbingly large in the front of his deerskin trousers.But she could not stop. Shrugging out of her bra, she turned and laid it on the table before her. Then, reaching back, she slipped her gloved hands into the hips of her panties. She squirmed for a few seconds, as she felt the eyes of every single member of both nations staring at her squirming ass. Then slowly, bending low, she guided her panties up and over her ass, and down her thighs. She slipped one boot out of them, then the other, and left them in a tiny colorful heap between her feet.Then, her lips trembling and her cheeks bright pink under her mask, Miss Americana made the one signal a woman could make that, regardless of language and culture, no man could mis-understand. Bending over, she put both hands on the table. Her voluptuous ass lifted up high and wiggling behind her, she slowly slid her boots wider and wider apart, until her long and mighty legs were spread at a nearly forty-five degree angle to either side. Then lifting her head, she looked back over her shoulder, her blue eyes blinking moistly. Her dripping cunt was pointed straight back at Massasoit, gaping slightly to show her tender inner lips between the thicker outer ones, in clear and open invitation.Despite the clarity of Americana's signal, Massasoit still turned and, eyes never leaving the glistening cunt being offered to him, had a brief conversation with Squanto."The Great Sachem wishes to know," Squanto said, afterwards, "whether this gift is for him alone, or for his people as well."The Pilgrim Elders looked at each other.Reverend Brewster shrugged. "As I said," he stated, "at a certain point one must ask, does God care about a few more?"Governor Bradford nodded. "Anyone and everyone can partake of our gift," he said, "as the Chief wishes.""Oh, Great Justice!" Miss Americana whimpered, her eyes blinking in horror. But, knowing she had no choice if she was not to change history, although they trembled, her mighty thighs remained spread wide, and her hands, though they shivered, remained planted flat to the table.Squanto and Massasoit shared another brief conversation. It concluded with what appeared to be a magnanimous gesture by Massasoit, towards Americana's waiting and naked cunt. Squanto nodded, and then stepped forward."The Great Sachem accepts your generous gift," he said. Reaching up, he began to take off his shirt. "As he knows your laws would not permit you to do so yourselves, he wishes that I test her first, to make sure she is worthy of him. He will have her after me, and then the rest of the tribe."Miss Americana let out a tiny whimper of disbelief, as she heard this. But, strangely, the news seemed to have another effect on her cunt, where, between her muscular thighs, her naked slit suddenly seemed to drip with even more gooey juices than before.Unable to watch her fate coming, Americana turned her head away and instead looked down the table. This did little to lessen her humiliation, however, as she now just got to watch the entire Pilgrim community staring up at her, as she stood ready to secure their futures with the much-questioned purity of her gaping cunt.Standing behind her, Squanto took off his pants. This caused an immediate stir among the Pilgrim women."By the Lord," the woman who had called out Miss Americana said, her eyes going hypocritically wide.Another shook her head slowly. "I, I had, suspected," she said. "But I did not realize the true extent of the native's, gifts."Fortunately for the Pilgrim women, their men were too busy staring at the naked Queen of Justice to see where their wives' attention was directed. Meanwhile Miss Americana, her face down and looking at the table, was the only one who could not see what was coming up behind her. So she didn't have any clue what she was in for, until Squanto's dark hands appeared upon her pale curvy hips, and he swung himself up into position."Oh!" Miss Americana gasped, her blue eyes spreading wide, as she realized that, with both of his hands accounted for on her flesh, what she was feeling nuzzling up against her drooling cunt could not be a fist or arm, as she in the initial moment of contact suspected. She gasped deeply, her eyes spreading even wider, as his tip started to part her. She shook her head."Oh, oh my God," she said, as her cunt lips spread wider and wider around the incoming bronze cock-head, until they quivered to either side of the crest of his uncircumcised cock. "I, I didn't know," she whimpered, "that, that Squanto was so hung!" Her voice rose up to a squeal, as he thrust deep inside her."Is," the native interpreter calmly corrected the English-woman on her grammar. Then, taking a tight grip on her hips, he began to slam his massive cock vigorously back and forth inside her drooling slit.Miss Americana shook and squealed, as he nailed her. All around her, the Pilgrim men and women stared in awe. But Americana was not the only one to be affected by the experience for long."Oh, yes!" Squanto announced. Sliding his eager dark hands around from her hips he cupped her enormous breasts from below, and squeezed them, as he continued to nail her gaping cunt with bountiful vigor and abandon. "This, strange woman, is indeed, worthy of the Sachem!" he said. He rolled his head and gasped in awe. "My goodness! She is so tight!" he marveled, squeezing her enormous hooters and stroking their erect tips with his fingers. "And yet, there is an ocean inside her hips!""Very good!" Massasoit announced, revealing that, though he naturally depended on his interpreter for complex and important negotiations, he had had the foresight to learn some rudimentary English himself. He removed his pants and then his loincloth, which caused another stir among the Pilgrim women, as it was revealed that Squanto was not a unique outlier among his people.To be continued in part 2, By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.

The Beauty PageantBy thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. On stage, Gloria towering over me insisted on hearing my husband Jerry's reaction to enforced chastity, "What virile man wants his cock in a blocker while his wife is fertilized?""The decision was joint," I retorted."Really?" Gloria expressed shock. "Your guy's nuts were locked down," Gloria laughed, "after you guys weighed the alternatives and made a joint decision. You are married to a saint.""As close as any man could be," I retorted. "Like a prince, we kissed as his pubes were vaporized and his phallus was encased in the cock-blocker."Gloria declared, "Nurse Warbler is right! Most guys don't mind pussification. They get to jerk off and hang out in a gym. Those too lazy to shower have an excuse not to bathe..." Gloria's voice trailed off into a laugh. Turning to me and the college girl, Gloria asked, "How did your guy take the good news of pussification?"When I outlined Cindy's proposal to my husband Jerry, Jerry believed, "It is generous. I could launch myself into a consulting business, but the sacrifice is all yours. You have to decide.""Hmm," I replied, "Oh, the sacrifice is yours as well. The clinic doesn't pretend we're eh, you're capable of voluntary abstinence. You get pussified, pubes shaven and cock blocked. The cock block only comes off at the clinic to release of eh, tensions, to use the gym, and to shower."In the treatment room, looking down at Cindy's bare back as she crouched on her hands and knees on the table, I commented "`non-surgical temporary sterilization, hmm, why don't you just call it pussification?" I lifted one of Cindy's arms and then the other to sweep the hospital gown away, leaving her naked in my presence for the first time. My hands had migrated toward the base of the spinal column. I was now manipulating the muscles of her butt."Pussification!" Cindy turned her head to look at me beaming with a big smile. "In medical school, we learn how to express simple concepts in the most opaque manner. The medical term might be an anti-androgenal agent designed to produce male infertility on a temporary basis."Sighing with relief at the release of taut muscles in her butt, Cindy mumbled about the relief of stress."And were you able to come up with a medical therapy?" I continued chatting."The risks of chemical castration," Cindy murmured, "brittle bones, fractures, arterial disease, and cardiac complications are too great and the benefits of lower ejaculate too insignificant to warrant use.""So, chemical castration is ineffective?" I asked."Only excising both testes permanently renders the man incapable of impregnating a female," Cindy advised, "temporary removal, storage, and replacement through micro-surgery is not cost-effective."As Cindy lectured, I reached for the depilatory cream. Placing my left hand to press down on her lower spine, I reached under Cindy's pelvis to spread the defoliant between her legs across her lower abdomen in an arc sweeping through her mound and the crease between her vaginal lips. As the cream vaporized pubes, Cindy cooed. "I never expected that this would be so relaxing on such a trying day."Taking a deep breath, Cindy continued her explanation of rejecting an anti-androidal medication, "The expedient of enforced chastity through application of an inexpensive device which prevents erection, ejaculation and penetration is far more effective form of --."Gently whacking Cindy on the butt, I suggested, "Pussification."My wise-crack made Cindy laugh so hard that tears welled in her bright blue eyes. "I needed that," Cindy acknowledged, "on a day that went so bad on which I had to make a hard choice."Meeting Dr. Velour poolside, she commented on my bikini bottoms, "I see your menstrual cycle has resumed. I have been concerned that women who use that implant which stays the cycle might find difficulty when it returns.""No worse than my pussified husband suffers," I sighed, "With both on the rag, hopefully we won't kill each other.""It's hard on the guy whose dick is locked down in the sling--during first few days," Gloria told the naked women assembled on stage. But in Surrogate's pool, it's the most effective form of birth control. At first, the guy is crotchety, irritable and bad-tempered. Once the guy gets in the routine of visiting the clinic to be hitched to a post for a mechanical release, the nastiness goes away."On stage, Gloria speculated, "Getting hitched to a post and jerked off becomes addicting to men. After pregnancy is confirmed, the chastity shield can come off, but the guy will prefer coming here.""Indeed!" I responded."After a few months of the hitching post," Gloria claimed, "You might as well have your guy castrated. He's useless. Besides--the sperminator is more dependable." Shrugging her shoulders to jiggle her nipples, Gloria smiled, "Fair exchange, he gets a mechanical cunt and I get a cock that won't go limp."I replied pithily, "Two hearts, one dream."Turning to me in the treatment room with an inviting smile, Cindy breathlessly whispered, "Say nothing. Help me off the table. Strip off your sweaty clothes off. Let's chill together." Cindy assured me, "No one will see us. No one's down in the visitor's shower at this hour. We'll have plenty of time alone."In the shower, Cindy giggled when my boobs bounced as she tore my sweaty top over my head. My bottoms swept away, I was standing in front of her in panties. Cindy spreading her legs partially squatting, stroked her clit. "Role reversal," Cindy declared, "you're prissy missy and I'm the frisky fox."Clutching me in a tight embrace, she assured me, as she stretched and snapped the elastic band of my panties, "To say yes to bliss, just plant a kiss, don't do me wrong and string me along."Advised, "eh, acquiring both Jerry and me requires his consent," Cindy paused peeling off my panties.Cindy pulled back. Her soft blue eyes turned steely. Her voice lost its silly giggle. Sweetness left her voice when her tone turned harsh into the bite of command when she demanded, "With the kind of money, I pay Dr. Velour, I'm entitled to a happy ending." She paused for emphasis. With hands on hips, sugary sweetness gone she barked, "Top me off."When I reported the scope of Cindy's demand to Dr. Velour in a pool side conference, I expressed dismay, "Cindy doesn't want to merely rent out my belly, she wants to buy me and castrate my husband."A grim look crossed Dr. Velour's face. Dr. Velour spoke hesitantly, "Cindy, eh, Dr. Craft is in line for a grant to adapt my sperminator, interface it with the male reproductive organ as a prosthetic device after orchidectomy-eh castration. It's quite an opportunity.""At the expense of neutering my husband," I protested."Jerry could become the ultimate modern man, with detachable nuts," Dr. Velour declared, "potent when you need him; harmless at other times.""That comes at a heavy price," I replied, "to both Jerry and me.""Your husband would create a consulting company," Dr. Velour reminded me. "I'll ask Dr. Craft about funding for a healthy volunteer. The 26 year old man is an appealing poster boy competing for grant money, but perhaps there is room for other subjects. You'll stand on stage as a prospective Surrogate?"On-stage, red-haired Gloria complained, "I wonder when someone is going to show up. We've been freezing our butts off for more than an hour.""I think we're just being strung along." I said with resignation.Eventually one of the women from admin came down to the theatre to tell us to dress and go home. Gloria smirked, "We're such sheep we have to be reminded to dress before we go out on the street."In days ahead. to my surprise, I didn't hear directly from Cindy but busy with my work wondered how much longer I should punish myself by teasing Jerry.Filling the doorway in a gown which barely reached her mid-thigh, Gloria beamed triumphantly as she stood on the scales and announced, "I'm here for 'The Big One.' And I specifically asked for you.""I'm honored," I replied."Well, I got selected. I meet the doctor--a single parent--who inspected us on stage," Gloria advised me, "It was a touch choice, this Dr. Craft told me. Good deal, promise of a plenty of benefits.""I'm very happy for you," I replied. I wasn't surprised. After `The Beauty Pageant,' I had switched on the implant anticipating the removal of Jerry's chastity shield.Oh, it works out well all around," Gloria informed me, "Dr. Velour plans to branch out. She's in line for government funding to develop a sperminator into a fake dick for men who lose their balls." Looking around the room, Gloria added, "She hasn't decided how long she'll hold onto this place.""Detachable nuts!" I exclaimed, "Now women need not beg off sex with the 'I'm on my period' excuse.""What did I tell ya, sweetie?" Gloria hugged me, pressing fleshy breasts into mine as she stepped off the scales, "Despite the attraction of a young one with a flat tummy, seasoned birthers are more reliable."With a sharp whack to her butt, I ordered her on the examination table. "With your experience, you know the drill. Lay on your back, raise your knees and spread 'em.""I am in a hurry, Dr. Velour has referred my husband to a specialist, I'd like to go along, but...," Gloria start to protest."Then lets get down to work," I spoke in a firm, but pleasant tone as pushed her legs further apart."Now it's open wide enough," I noted as I led the fingers of her right hand to stroke her clit. "Press it down like a button," I whispered. The thumb of her other hand massaged the creases between her vaginal while her fingers explored the widened tunnel. "Work it hard, I'll fetch the sperminator."Down in the subterranean level, I obtained the device from Dr. Velour's office. I called Jerry to get him to drop by for a shower. Quelling his protests, I affirmed, "I have news-it's important." When breathlessly, Jerry promised to come right over."Something we've been both waiting for, but we'll have more privacy to discuss it at 9:30PM."I smiled in reflection. I'd use a women's greatest strength: overcome brute force with finesse. I'd ride Jerry's cock raw my way, cowgirl style.Returning to the treatment room, I found Gloria's freckled skin burnished bright red and drenched in sweat. Gloria demanded, "Ram it in. Cram it in before I explode."While I held up the spermiator and prepared to plunge it in, Gloria moved her hands to play with her breasts. After a pause, I smiled at the whizzing sound of the vibrating spermator as I thrust it spermantor inside her. The thumb of my free hand pressed on her clit. "It's like a on-off switch," I joked as Gloria suddenly went an orgasmic, lifting her ass and crashing it against the table.How long that went on I'm unsure. When Gloria nudged me awake, I was naked except for my white sneakers, standing bent over the examining table vaginas lips locked tightly together by Gloria's long legs. Released I staggered to my feet."Tomorrow, same time," Gloria kissed me as she donned her gown to leave, "I swear you entered me." Shaking her head, Gloria sighed, "They say that's myth; it doesn't happen, but I know it does.""Glad to be of service," I slapped her rump as she passed by me. Giggling, she jumped.It was easy to switch some hours with the nursing assistant assigned to the late-night crew. Warning me as she prepared to leave, "You're it: inspector, shower girl, towel girl and escort. After 9:30PM, the most you'll get is one or two sperm donors. Almost never, you get a surrogate.""Guys tip better," I noted.After an evening rush, by 8pm there was only an occasional visitor. Clad in a thong towel loosely slung over my shoulder, I stood in the male donor's locker, reading a book. When Jerry entered, I threw aside the towel dangling my boobs.. "You know the drill, hun," I said in an impersonal tone without looking up. I stifled the protest which was starting to form on Jerry's lips, "Faster if you please," I looked down at my electronic chart, "Mr.Warbler, in all honesty, too late for feigned modesty, or play strip tease," I paused to ring out in a cadence, "jeans and top, shoes and socks,, everything off, totally defrocked , down to bare anatomy//To get your cock unblocked."Standing hands on hips, bare but for the triangular shield covering his male accoutrements, Jerry looked away as I pushed the button. "Your cock blocker is released," pointing to a cylindrical container, I directed, "remove it. I need to examine your erectile tissue." I deliberately used inflated terminology.Hesitating, Jerry questioned, "Do you think-I mean, should we-are you authorized to?" The tone of hopeful anticipation entered his voice, "Your news?""I have important news but first," I barked an order, "Like everybody else, assume the position for genital inspection," I commanded. "Quickly," I urged him, "Hands behind your head, feet apart."Kneeling to tease his penis with my finger, I teased Jerry, "Look it grows. OK into the shower.As Jerry turned to go to the shower, I condescendingly patted his butt. I marveled that stealth surmise and cunning can overcome superior physical strength all the time.Chapter 11: Casting My SpellWearing only a thong with a towel slung over my shoulders, I switched some hours with another nursing assistant to cover the late-night shift at the Fertility clinic. My bare boobs bounced peering out from under the towel as I shifted my weight. The evening had been slow, only an occasional donor to be freed from the cock blocker, showered towelled and led to a hitching post. Most of the evening was spent sitting around in the locke

Clinic Nurse explains heterosexuality to sperm recipient.By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. I was busy in the morning playing the warden, releasing the bulls, the male donors, from the chastity shield and inspecting their genitalia. Unfortunately, word spreads quickly in the clinic. The bulls chided me about my prospective transfer to the female section. "Afraid of dealing with real men," upbraided one bull. His teasing brought a round of a hearty laughter."I'll return the compliment," I retorted, "in this locker, I wear the crown. Under lock and key, I keep your implement. It is I who frees you from peeing sitting down." Later, descending into the subsurface level, I found myself walking with a group of bulls, phallus dangling free, headed to the gym. One, a Mr.Tim Bogen, a relative newcomer, pulled me aside.Worry etched on his face, Bogen requested permission to pose a question. "What would you think if your husband registered here as a bull?"I pondered for a second. "I'd sleep more nights through, wake up fresh still in my PJs more often and get more cuddling time. My eh—partner would learn the use of his tongue. I might like some cunnilingus, now and then. How does your partner feel about your role here?""She came here on one of the partners' days when they allow the bulls to eh -" The bull hesitated."Screw," I suggested."Kind-of," Bogen spoke hesitantly, "Eh—Interaction is subject to strict supervision. Females are protected, like prized animals, from unplanned insemination," the Bogen grimaced, "Bulls must use a sperm collection condom.""I guess Dr. Velour has an exclusive output contract with her bulls," I surmised."The clinic starts off females in milk extraction," the bull recounted."I'm sure it's just an experiment to see if the exercise of the nipples will fool the body into producing milk," I assured Bogen. "Participants, mostly college girls picking up a quick buck, are paid to have their nipples exercised. What's the worry? You are permitted to work her nips at home. It can lead to renewal, a new beginning of tender moments and bonding.""With me in chastity?" questioned Bogen."With you in chastity," I replied in a comforting voice, "the exercise might increase sexual tension and spur sperm production.""But where does that lead to—for her?" Bogen wondered, "Titty tugging is just a beginning. Each step makes the next step easier. Taking money to have her tits pulled can become selling her body for milk production and then getting knocked-up for surrogacy.""You really starting to worry about a concern that has yet to present itself. Perhaps, you should explore your feelings with Dr. Velour and your partner," I spoke with an encouraging voice, "I'm just a Nursing Assistant in training, not qualified to counsel you and your partner."At the foot of the ramp, I promised to raise his concerns with Dr. Velour. Entering the small theatre next to Dr. Velour's office, I found myself alone with Dr. Velour, now in her freshly pressed pleated dark skit with heels and white lab jacket over a sweater. The other nursing assistant trainees had not arrived."They'll be down," Dr. Velour informed me, "in a few minutes; Pat is exercising her nipples; Cassie needed to take a shower after working up a sweat in the gym; Beth is expressing milk. They'll be down after a shower."Apprised of the Bogen's concerns, Dr. Velour congratulated me, "you did right by referring the bull to me for guidance." With a hand on my shoulder, Dr. Velour asked, "What do you think makes a good Surrogate?""Physically fit enough to carry a baby to term, ovulating, able to conceive," I replied."Physical capability is important. Most women are, but what should I look for in a young woman who wants to be a surrogate?" Dr. Velour inquired."A motivated person," I replied."Indeed, motivations. That's what I look for," Dr. Velour exclaimed, "What I look for in a surrogate starting out is the antithesis of a good mother. First, she's less interested in bringing life into the world than securing an advantage for herself, an objective, material purpose, an expensive house, a limited-edition car, a dream vacation, something beyond their means that a woman might be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for, giving up a child. Second, it is helpful, that a woman be a bit of an exhibitionist, one who enjoys being the center of attraction, the star of the show.""I don't mean to inquire into your personal affairs..." I started."But you've heard that I financed my medical education by playing surrogate, three times," Dr. Velour chuckled. "I came away in good condition, don't you think?  No scars, genitalia intact, abdomen uncut." With a laugh, Dr. Velour reminisced, "medical people are so self-centered that no one noticed I was pregnant—every year.""You were not the center of attention?" I was stunned."A couple years later, I went to a reunion," Dr. Velour recalled, "an alum approached me... `Weren't you the girl who skipped graduation because you were pregnant in the last year and delivered? What did you end up having?'" Dr. Velour smiled as she reflected, "`Money to pay the tuition,' was my response.""Then, you were not the center of attention?" I was confused."Most women feel they are or should be as their baby balloons out," Dr. Velour explained, "Sometimes a husband can be jealous." With a reassuring back rub, Dr. Velour promised, "I'll call the bull in, for reassurance."At that Cassie the gymnast entered in scrubs. The sleeves were cut off to reveal her biceps. Following her were Pat, topless big breasts bouncing, and Beth also topless with pads covering her nipples. "Sorry, Dr. Velour," hands cupped in front of her breasts, Beth apologized, "I've been expressing. I need to sop up the drip."I was somewhat surprised to see both ladies enter in yellow shorts and slippers, displaying their breasts, Beth boldly, Pat looking around nervously gauging our reaction."Let's start with Pat," Dr. Velour began, "But first I begin with an explanation, not an apology. There are no apologies in medicine we're always right." Dr. Velour looked from face to face. Her remarks drew some giggling and a few chuckles."In our last session, we had Amy Warbler get dressed in order to come down here to strip behind the privacy screen. The purpose of requiring a patient to disrobe is control. Beth," Dr. Velour called on the surrogate, "could you explain how our heifers enter to express milk?""It's an assembly line. Heifers report, disrobe," Beth outlined the procedure, "shower, line up for examination, handed a pair of yellow shorts and slippers, assigned a booth for milking.""Human breasts are a secondary sex characteristic, not a sexual organ," Dr. Velour lectured, "They are designed for two purposes: to attract a mate and to produce milk for the sustenance of an infant."Velour called Pat to center stage, "Lets start. The areola, the ring around the mammary papilla, the nipple," Dr. Velour ran the pad of her index finger around Pat's areola, "of a blond, like Pat, is usually a subdued off-white." Dr. Velour looked to Beth. "Under those pads, a brunette, or any other dark-haired woman like Beth should have darker, more prominent areolas."Beth looked with a smirk on while Pat turned her head away as Dr. Velour's hands massaged Pat's breasts. "The Female Breasts," Dr. Velour taught, "infused with network of nerves, spread out widely, are extremely sensitive to physical contact." Placing her hands under Pat's breasts as if weighing them in the palm of her hands, Dr. Velour asked whether Pat suffered any neck or back pain from the weight of her breasts.Rolling Pat's nipples between thumb and index fingers, Dr. Velour lectured, "In bringing down the milk, the heifers in the experimental program start with manual manipulation of the nipples. Unlike milking a cow, by simply squeezing the bossie's teat from the top to the bottom, manual manipulation of human breasts must take a subtle, gentler form of palpating or massaging the nipples to simulate suckling an infant."Ordered to drop to the ground, Pat presented on all fours. Dr. Velour squatted in front of Pat, "Taking the nipples between thumb and index finger," Dr. Velour discoursed, "gently tug one then the other. The subject will after she gets used to the position become quite stimulated." Rising and assisting Pat to her feet. "Try this at home with your partner, but there is another way."Turning to Beth, Dr. Velour called for comments. "Sometimes, direct oral stimulation, properly done, mouth covering the tit," Beth explained, "will be more effective in bringing down the milk.""More efficacious as well as more affectionate," Dr. Velour smiled before she invited Beth to demonstrate. "Beth, you have the most experience," Dr. Velour urged Beth on, "show us how direct oral stimulation is done."Supporting Pat's breasts with the palm of her hand, Beth, with a smile, jiggled Pat's breasts. "Nice jugs," Beth smiled. Beth locked eyes with Pat. Pat's hands tentatively reached out to clutch Beth's shoulders.As Beth craned her head to lick Pat's left nipple, Pat placed her right hand on Beth's head to hold Pat close. Beth slobbered her tongue around Beth's left nipple. Capturing Pat's nipple in the mouth, Beth started suckling.Turning to Cassie and me, Dr. Velour orated as if she were lecturing a theatre full of students, "Suckling creates a vacuum instrumental in bringing down milk. The breast pumps employed in the clinic operate on the same principal. The pump captures the whole nipple and creates a vacuum replicating a mouth suckling." With a smile, Dr. Velour exclaimed, "The body is a marvelous machine!"In front of us, the suckling became louder and more intense as Pat's left hand reached around Beth to clutch Beth in a hug. Beth's hands falling on Pat's hips, yanked Pat's yellow shorts off. The shorts fell to the floor, Pat kicked them off. The two tumbled to the platform of the stage."Breast feeding is a pleasurable experience," Dr. Velour observed, "pre-natal or pre-adoptive practice can reinforce the pair bond which many believe essential to child rearing. The human body is a well oiled machine. Unfortunately, there is no turn-off switch," Dr. Velour chuckled. "We can allow these two go orgasmic for the moment."With the sound of an impending orgasm echoing in the background, Dr. Velour turned from Cassie to me. "One of our bulls has expressed concern over his wife," Dr. Velour explained the problem I had raised, "After his wife came on a couple's day, she decided to join our programme as a Heifer to stimulate her breasts to induce lactation."Cassie chirped, "She wants to be a Moo-Cow and he's worried. I don't believe it""That's the problem," Dr. Velour observed. "It is possible that the husband might fear his role as the center of attention in the relationship is endangered by competition from his wife. Amy, do you have any suggestions?"My attention was riveted on the tussling in the background. I watched Beth's lips slip away from suckling Pat's left breast, planting kisses down Pat's abdomen with a smack. When Beth reached Pat's mound, I heard Pat emit giggling sighs of delight. Pat's legs wrapped around Beth's neck; sucking sounds became louder as the grasp of Pat's legs drew Beth in deeper.Prompted by Dr. Velour to advance a solution for the bull's problem, I saw the answer in the scene unfolding before me. Still watching Beth and Pat in the throes of orgasm, I proposed, "Meet the couples together. Allow the bull to suckle the heifer, suggesting scientific standards require observation for monitoring the technique." Looking at Beth and Patty locked in an embrace on the floor, I added, "that way both will share center stage.""Hmm." Dr. Velour opined, "just let their bodies' wiring take over."In front of us, Beth and Pat shook with successive waves of orgasm. Transfixed by the spectacle on stage, I, sandwiched between the firm body of Dr. Velour and muscle-bound Cassie, felt overheated. "Stimulating, isn't it?' Dr. Velour threw an arm over my shoulder to whisper in my ear."If I were still in school," Looking toward Dr. Velour with a sheepish smile, "I'd skip school this afternoon, find Jerry and fuck myself blind."Cassie laughed. Dr. Velour with an enigmatic half-smile changed my assignment for the day to shower girl in the heifers' shower. "Keep you away from temptation. As you know I have an exclusive on all the Bull's spermatic secretions."The rest of the day passed routinely for a fertility clinic. I spent the afternoon as towel girl in the heifer's section. At the end of the workday, I was approached by Dr. Velour to share a spigot in the employee's shower. Asked for my reaction to working with women, I reflected, "Different things are dangled in your face; the saucy comments and suggestions are subtler; the objective is the same: a cheap jives rather than cheap thrill, but no requests for nipple stimulation, manipulation, suckling, or massages.""How disappointing!" Dr. Velour sounded sympathetic. Turning, Dr. Velour requested I soap her back. Starting with her shoulders I spread the foamy liquid on her shoulders, massaging her neck, lathering her arm pits when she spread her arms out. Holding her head back to look up at the ceiling, Dr. Velour opened her mouth and held out her tongue to catch the gentle beads of water falling on her when I passed the sudsy froth along the sides of her breasts.As I rubbed the bubbly mass down her spine, Dr. Velour, eyes shuttered, demanded, "lower, lower, work out the kinks of a long day." The droplets of soap sparkled as I applied the creamy solution and kneaded the firm, muscular half-moons of her butt.I looked around. Everyone had left me with Dr. Velour alone.Splaying her legs and bending over, Dr. Velour, exceptionally agile, reached for the floor with her hands. Presenting her crack invited an intimate massage. I had seconds to think of a diplomatic solution to keep contact impersonal. I leaned into Dr. Velour teasing her back with my nipples and excused myself for a second in an apologetic tone, "I need to leave you for a second to reach for surgical gloves. Don't go away."Dr. Velour muttered with an undertone of disappointment, "If you must."Locating surgical gloves, I stepped into the Shower girl's bottoms. Topless, I reasoned, ought to be enough stimulation. Returning to Dr. Velour, I first squeezed the bubbles out of a washcloth between those firm half-moons. Then I worked the effervescent fluid into her crack, massaging her sphincter with the pad of my thumb, entering her warm vagina with my index, middle and fore fingers.She moaned as her orgasm overtook her. Though I had intended to keep the contact impersonal, the electric charge of her orgasmic contractions jumped from her body to mine. A flush branched out from the cheeks of my face to my chest. My nipples went erect. I started to laugh at myself for donning bikini bottoms. I felt the urge to rip them off and rub my vagina into her muscular legs. I leaned into her back. We swayed together as the ripples of orgasm shot through our bodies.Suddenly, with a jerk, Dr. Velour pushed me off and stood on her feet. Casting a scurrilous glance at the bikini bottoms clinging to my ankles, Dr. Velour cautioned me, "Kick those things off before you trip."Hands on her hips, Dr. Velour congratulated me, "Not bad! Remind me to give your class some lessons in massage." Staring through me dispassionately, she observed, "It may come in handy." Looking around the empty room, Dr. Velour told me to rinse off. "The night crew will be reporting in soon to service the bulls who come in for a shower after work."Before the heat of our encounter faded away, Dr. Velour walked down the catwalk toward her private changing room. Watching her retreat down the walk of shame, I wondered what had I begun? I had wanted to ensure that contact would be impersonal. Dr. Velour intended nothing different. I felt I betrayed myself husband, but most of all I had betrayed poor Jerry.

Nurse assistant exhibits sperm donors to purchasers..By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 6: Presentation & Selective Breeding"Presentation is everything," Dr. Velour taught the Nursing Assistants in a small theatre down the corridor from her office. "The White Lab Coat and the plastic name tag, the hushed tones all suggest a presence, a presence of authority, instill confidence and hopefully guarantee cooperation. What if I entered the room straight out of the pool barefoot, naked, dripping wet, I'd be the same person, with the same intellectual capabilities, but would you listen or just laugh?"My repartee, "Shouldn't I throw you a towel?" sent the three or four prospective Nursing Assistants scattered through the three aisles of this subterranean theatre into hysterics."Pitching an idea is no different than puffing up a product," Dr. Velour taught, "Even Selective Breeding is simply a matter of packaging."Freshly out of the Clinic's communal shower, at the Clinic, I, in line huddled with three other naked women and a guy for warmth, to await issuance of a towel and my packaging, the prescribed clothing for the day. As I stood waiting on the line shivering with arms crossed over my breasts, a sensation of being watched alerted me to a pair of dark eyes searing my bare butt.I looked over my shoulder to notice the facility director Dr. Velour under a shower head with a tall dark haired, butterball shaped woman whose eyes caught mine as she studied the rise and fall of my chest. "Showering is required of employees entering the sterile area, Alison," Dr. Velour addressed her companion, "Generally, employees become used to a unisex communal showering. Modesty would be misplaced in a facility whose harvest is people."Even if I was not such a beauty that sent every guy's blood boiling and every gal green with envy, both men and women flirt with me. This was different. The dark-haired woman, fat of rump, slight of chest, was evaluating me. Who was she, a candidate for employment, perhaps? The large hands, muscular arms and shoulders suggested a prospective security guard. Why else would Dr. Velour have her in the employee's shower?"Undifferentiated facilities," the dark-haired woman commented favorably, "like the locker room in my gym."Hmm, I thought, inflated speech like a public employee, police? Definitely, I surmised, an applicant for a security position.When my turn came to receive my clothing, I wanted only to be far away from this dark-haired woman as possible. My heart sank when the clerk informed me, "Assigned to the male donor section you're Shower Siren today."I gulped. "Today was not a day I needed to be put on display," I grumbled as I looked over my shoulder to steal a glance at the dark-haired woman studying every curve and fold in the skin of my body. Wouldn't she like to see me play `The Shower Siren?'A Fertility Clinic employee, usually female acted as a towel girl in the shower. Working topless or in a black two-piece, the Shower Siren toweled the bulls, emerging from the shower. Males donating their sperm needed to be aroused after a shower to make the donation process efficient.I could see from reading her expression, Dr. Velour's dark-haired pear-shaped companion, scrutinizing my body, wouldn't mind being toweled down by me."Some sirens prefer the top; Others go topless," Giggling the clerk chided, "The bull may need help from a soft touch to go hard." The Clerk asked, "Do you need the top?"When I with a grimace complained that my boobs felt extraordinarily heavy today and later, in the day, I had exams in my remaining courses at the University, the clerk in a cheery voice, asked in a hush, "on your period?"When I nodded that I felt it coming on, the clerk offered to reassign me to play the Judas Goat escorting and supervising inspection of donors by perspective purchasers of their output. "The girl assigned called in sick. All you have to do as Judas Goat is inspect the bulls in the barn," rolling her eyes with a smile, "y'know, the donor's locker, send those who need a little touch-up to grooming, escort them to the gym to wait, to lead the bulls into Dr. Velour's little theatre for viewing and to stand by while the purchasers examine them."Glancing toward the dark-haired woman still scrutinizing me, I expressed interest, "Escorting the bulls, I won't be on display. The guys are. Sounds interesting.""You are familiar with the drill," the clerk asked, "you bring the bulls through to put them on display on stage in Dr. Velour's theatre downstairs, aren't you?"On display, hmm, Dr. Velour, in her monitoring of my internship in the Western Avenue Fertility Clinic, told me that the essence of business is presentation. In business, the premises, the personnel and the product are constantly on display for the interested public. "Think of it in this vein," Dr. Velour enunciation of the clinic's purpose brought grins to the faces of all those within earshot, "our product ultimately is people, selectively bred people."Dressed in scrubs, I, waiting unnoticed in the entrance to the men's locker, listened to the bulls selected to be put on display. Naked, but for the inverted triangular dome girding their genitalia, the men were chattering among themselves.Responding to our 'cattle call,' these men were teasing a new listing in our stud book. "Nothing to it," one assured the newcomer, "a little pampering, grooming and body sculpting, on display in the gym working out, stand around naked for inspection and collect some dough."Another quipped, "inspection? Watch out for the tall, tear-dropped shaped dykes, they like to check what they've been missing."A third exclaimed, "Some will test your elasticity to see if they can, eh, drag you to come along."The next in line suggested, "pulling the plunger; lugging the lever; nuzzling the love nuts."The third countered, "prodding the prostate."Another disagreed, "Naw, the lezzies draw the thrill of arousal not from physical contact, but from the control through the exercise of physical power."Entering swinging my hips, I announced, "So, here's my refrain: is the sow who has the power to unblock the cock, release the manpower, and inflict pleasure and pain in total control?"Waiting for the laughter to die down, I explained the agenda. "Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you for coming in this morning. Today, you will be displayed to prospective purchasers of your seminal fluids."Pausing deliberately to depress the button to release the cock-blockers, I continued, "After you deposit the cock blocker in the bin, stand on the line hands on your head, stand on the line hands on your head, and wait. Come forward for my inspection when I call your name.""Allen, first name George," I rang out the first name as I donned my surgical gloves. "Blond hair neatly cut; darker facial hair sculpted along jawbone strikingly attractive."Most of the men stood stoically looking ahead. The newbie, peering out from the row of naked men, cried out, "Examined like a piece of meat.""No, think of it this way: we're on display like a prized stallion in the corral," a man in line exclaimed."Like a bucking bronco in the rodeo, we're the product the public comes to see," a neighbor patted the newbie on the back."Or," exclaimed another, "wants to see cum. Whatever it takes to make the sale!""Making the sale," in her monitoring of my paper on my internship, Dr. Velour instructed, "there is no difference between dealing with the male sperm donors, the female surrogates and the ultimate purchasers of the finished product. All are sales. To make a sale, there must be a perceived need, interest, and money. When those coincide, there will be a sale."When the chuckling died down, I explained, "Today's inspection is more thorough than the cursory once-over, we give you when you come to shower, use the gym, or donate. Today before subjecting you to display for a serious buyer's consideration, we must scrutinize every hair, every fold in the skin and every pore very carefully to remedy any possible blemish. Shall I proceed with my examination?"Feeling Allen's underarms, for evidence of hair follicles, I asked, "depilatory cream?" Receiving a nod, I continued, "Chest clean except for small patch of curly hair over sternum." I commented, "Some customers like that.""We aim to please." Allen responded confidently.After a grimace from me quelled the round of laughter echoing off the tiles of locker, my exploration of Allen's lower abdomen, pelvic crease, inner thighs, and scrotum revealed, "smooth pubes, sleek legs. Every woman would be jealous. Turn around.""Here comes the money shot," muttered Allen as he exaggerated his compliance.I shook my head at the ribald comments Allen's remarks drew. I chided the men, "I can dress you guys up, but I can't take you out."When the laughter subsided, I attended to Allen. Now with Allen's back to me, I ran the palm of my hand along his muscular shoulders across his back and hips to the base of his spine. I announced, "back hairless." ordered, "bend over, spread your legs." With the subject in position, I superficially probed his crack with my gloved index finger, I declared Allen's anal cavity to be "satisfactorily silky and sheer."Allen was about ready to move toward the showers when I signalled him to stand by. I called up the newbie. Looking down at my electronic notepad, I asked, "Your name sir.""Tim Bogen," said he as he extended his hand."Hands on head, Mr.Bogen," I reminded Mr.Bogen in a pleasant voice with a smile. Giving him a quick look-over and feeling stubble in his underarms, I remarked, "You shave, but when it grows in, it can be uncomfortable prickly." Turning to Mr.Allen, I asked, "could you escort Mr.Bogen to grooming?""No problem," Allen firmly promised. To Bogen, Allen asked, "coming?" Answering Bogen's protests about being on public display walking naked in the common area, Allen declared, "We're on display. We're what people pay for. Come!"I held my hand up to signal the rest to keep quiet until I heard the door hinges squeak and the door swished shut. Once Mr.Bogen was out of earshot, the room exploded in laughter.Once the catcalls dissipated, I observed, "I would have escorted Mr.Bogen myself, but then rules would have required me to undress and shower before leading you downstairs. If our customers caught me naked, they might have thought I was on display. Naturally, due to my beauty and brains, our customers would insist your output be injected inside me.""Wouldn't your husband be jealous?" came the catcalls."On the other hand," I rose to the challenge, "We do need a new car. Like most men, Jerry wouldn't mind sacrificing my svelte figure as a necessary trade-off for acquiring new wheels."Collecting the men after their shower, I led the men down the long ramp that led to the subsurface gym. Peering over the railing, I noticed Dr. Velour in the pool naked swimming laps.Rejoining the gaggle after escorting Tim Bogen to grooming, Allen, spying on Dr. Velour easily gliding through the water, rendered an appraisal, "Doc, is one who practices what she preaches. She puts her frame on display. A pretty good one at that, what is she 35, 40, maybe, with an hourglass figure of a 17-year-old cheerleader? Firm DD boobs, thin waist, muscular arms and legs, firm butt. Yet they say, she herself produced three children to support herself while she was in med school.""I wonder why," Bogen asked."Money, my friend!" thundered Allen. In a gentler tone, Allen added, "Same reason we're get up early in the morning to cum hitched up to a post. Bright girl! I wonder how much money it would take to get her to grow another child?"In her oversight of my internship research paper, Dr. Velour reflected on motivations, "with the bulls, the male sperm donors, for the most part, what draws in the bulls is the money. Beyond that, the donors never think of their role in selective breeding. What happens when I sew their wild seed concerns them not. Not one has asked about the female who might have been impregnated or even wondered that I might use their sperm to inseminate their wife, their sister, or even their mother.""And the money keeps them coming?" I asked.A wicked smile appeared on Dr. Velour's thin lips as I covered by mouth with my hands when I realized what I had said. In the silence that followed, a distant contemplative glaze masked her face as she paused to ponder. After a silent interlude, Dr. Velour spoke, "The bulls can eh—`come,'" She halted at that word, "so long as I can market their 'cum.'"When we finished laughing, Dr. Velour rephrased my question, "You meant to ask: what keeps completely domesticated men, balls locked down in the cock blocker, returning faithfully to my gate standing in line like livestock for inspection before release of ejaculate into a hitching post?"Waiting for the bulls donning simple cotton triangles over their jocks to begin a workout, I noticed fleeting, furtive movement in the darkened alcove overlooking the pool and gym. From that balcony, the flickering shadows enjoyed a commanding view of the activity of men in cotton athletic supporters on in the hallowed out underground cavern that housed the gym and pool.At that Dr. Velour toweling her naked body down joined me. Looking up to the gallery, Velour tossing the towel aside, "You've noticed our premier prospective purchasers up in the gallery. People will tell me they search for qualities of intelligence, sensitivity and compassion in a man, but it's the flexed muscles of our well-hung livestock on display during the exhibition in the gym which generates the interest that leads to sales."With a smile, Dr. Velour told me to bring the livestock to the operating theatre. "I'll," Dr. Velour promised, "fetch the purchasers." Hands on her bare flanks pushing her chest out dangling her breasts enticingly in my face, Dr. Velour, groaning with a distinctive tone of disappointment inflecting her voice, smirked, "I suppose I will have to dress.""The livestock on stage will be appropriately herded on stage, dressed for their part in the selection," I said with a grin."Have you given thought to the assignment I have given you for your paper: the motivations of the male donor?" Dr. Velour asked. "I deem the donor's sacrifice, enforced chastity outside the clinic between donations, is relatively mild by comparison to the demands placed upon the bodies of our female surrogates. Yet, I have no problem keeping my stud book full." After a pause, Velour added, "You're here to study motivations. Explain the magic?"When I blew my whistle, Mr.Allen yelled out, "Showtime!" Patting Tim Bogen on the back, Allen rendered an assurance which sent Bogen's eyebrows twitching,"What's a few seconds," Allen teased Bogen, "of jerking your jock strap off, bobbling your balls, coddling your cock, and bending you over to poke your prostate." A look of discomfort appeared on Bogen's face, but he filed into the theatre with the other bulls.As we entered the theatre bright lights on the stage automatically flicked on. During the procession down the left-hand aisle, less intensive overhead fixtures suddenly illuminated the three rows of seats.

Fertility clinic nurse explores magic of sex play in study.By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 4: Fun & Games People Play.My tall and muscular husband Jerry, pleasantly bemused, encouraged my studies and offered his body for practice."First, I wash my hands and introduce myself," I went through my checklist, "Good morning Mr.Warbler. I'm Nursing Assistant Amy Warbler. After I release you from chastity, I'm going to conduct a testicular exam, a complete physical inspection of the genitalia, the penis, scrotum, and testicles.""Oh, please do," said Jerry with a smile.I moved his chin to the right and ordered Jerry to put his hands on his head.Passing my written and practical test, with Jerry's help, I found myself in a somewhat more staid, professionalized environment. On duty, I was addressed as Miss Warbler. I wore medical scrubs replete with a name tag that identified me as a Nursing Assistant.Co-opting in the trial run-through for the hands-on portion of the exam, Jerry complained that I should borrow surgical scrubs for more realism in my exam. "There's something to the medical accoutrements, the scrubs, the name tag, and the stethoscope that promote cooperation of the subject."With Jerry's size and strength, I needed all the help the prop of an improvised costume could bring to assure his pliancy.To accommodate Jerry's quest for realism, I wore one of his white shirts, backwards, over a loose, billowy pj bottom. I preferred the short sleeve shirt to tease Jerry with a glimpse at my breasts. Jerry's T-Shirt fit loose enough; I only buttoned the top button to make sure the top flowed with my movement. To Jerry's suggestion that, on duty, I wear a bra or a T-shirt under the scrubs, I reminded him that paying customers give tips."Tips for Tits!" Jerry exclaimed. "You must model this exceptional garment for me. Bring a pair home.""To leave at the end of my shift," I replied, "I have to walk naked from a communal shower along a steel mesh parapet for 100 paces. How can I spirit scrubs out of the clinic?"Still, even after elevation to a demi-professional caste, we had to strip, stow our street clothes in a locker, and walk naked along a catwalk about 100 feet to communal showers. Instead of the 4AM race of the cleaning crew to the showers, we leisurely strolled to the showers. One of the women walked with the man, idly chatting. Next to me walked a cherubic brunette Darrie. "Think of it as short for Darling," she told me."Appropriate name," I replied, "for the angel who releases the male donor from the cock block to release the built-up eh—tension.""Angel Darlin', now that would be a nice name," Darrie chuckled, "the guys call the nurse in the locker the Angel of Mercy. We call her the `Warden.'"In our practice for my hands on exam, Jerry expressed interest in experiencing me in the role of the Angel of Mercy."Not ready to recognize me as your warden," I chided Jerry.Perhaps, Jerry suggested as he stood naked in front of me that I should have obtained permission to borrow a chastity belt for that purpose. "The clinic might have allowed issuance of the belt, but not the electronic notebook. You might find a chastity grows on you. Without the release button on the electronic notebook, you'll find the belt is easier to get into than to get out of."Under the spigot next to me, Darrie, looking around the shower, sighed. "You're new. The only problem with working at the Fertility Clinic is," a silly expression appeared on her face, "it grows on you.""Quite an interesting comment," I replied, "about an institution designed to grow eh, people.""The longer you are here," Darrie smiled, "the more you're bound up in it, the harder it is to leave, and the more you find yourself willing to do."Though there were enough spigots in the shower for us to keep a respectful distance from each other, we tended to congregate within arms' reach of each other. "I'm going to help you-just for the first few customers-In the locker-just to show," Darrie proposed, "you how to handle eh, the ropes." We both giggled together before she asked, "Soap up my back, will you be a luv?"Turning her back to me, Darrie waited for me to apply a washcloth from the short hairs of her neck to her shoulder blades down to her butt. "Are you married, luv?" When I acknowledged, she prodded me, "to a guy?" At my nod, she added, "you'd do well as shower girl, but today you play warden, unlock them on the way in and lock them tight on the way out."At the clothing counter, Darrie recommended that I wear a T-Shirt under the scrubs, "It being your first time, you might not want guys gaping at your swinging tits.""Tits bring Tips," I quipped.In my practice with Jerry, I went through the protocol: "Second, once the subject has disrobed, the subject should present naked standing in front of you. Some prefer to perform the examination kneeling to the side of the patient. Most examiners prefer to stand to conduct an initial appraisal of the subject's general condition.""Hands on your head, Mr.Warbler, if you please, legs apart," I ordered in a cheerful voice."Why do you need to keep an eye on my hands?" Jerry asked. "Does a 90 lb woman facing fear losing control over a naked, sex crazed man recently sprung from chastity?""Interesting choice of words," I replied.When Darrie and I peeked in the male donor's locker, three or four men completely undressed were milling about inside. Darrie pointing out a fair skinned nervous sort criss-crossing his chest with his arms, "Probably, the new guy, Mr.Flesher," she surmised.Naked except for an inverted triangular shaped dome covering their crotches, the men awaited release. Standing at the entrance the male donor's locker, Darrie whispered, "Unexpected things," an evil smile peered on her lips, "especially with new donors can happen when the projectile is unleashed. Never stand directly in the path of an eruption."We both giggled when I quipped, "Interesting concept."Entering the male donor's locker, Darrie barked, "Line up," Darrie pointed to a line down the middle of the room, "Hands on your heads, the one on top of your head you think with, if you expect your schlong to swing."There were some catcalls from the guys lining up. One called out, "Wear a bra if you're afraid I'll cop a feel.""While I keep your schlong locked," Darrie shot back, "fondling my tits in a moment of joy will bring your cock quite a shock.""You just want to smell my pits," screeched another."Just to check, forsooth," Darrie quipped, "underarms remain smooth and clean and not hirsute." Darrie leaned over to give me advice at an audible whisper, "it's good to keep chappies happy by wiggling your tush and acting a little sassy.""Consider this a eh, dress rehearsal. You're suitably naked and I'm in an improvised nurse's costume," I commenced a test-run of the examination. As Jerry stood hands over his head, I announced the next step, "Third," pausing to seize his penis for examination, I continued, "thoroughly inspect the penis frontal and dorsal,-eh all sides for lumps, swellings, ulcers or scars."At my touch, I could feel Jerry's penis begin to pulsate and gel from flaccid to rubbery. I noticed Jerry's lips pursing. I heard my heart pounding in my chest. Breathlessly, in a dreamy voice combining technical book learning with pillow talk, I gushed, "think of the penis as engineering miracle of erectional hydraulics, a natural pump capable of accomplishing a surge of blood flow within seconds. When the penis swells with blood, the pelvic floor muscles launch the penis eh, into ecstasy."Ecstasy? I questioned myself. That's contrary to protocol which impersonalized intimate contact. Putting aside the delicacy of social conventions, I, focusing on the objective, must conduct procedures by the book step-by-step. The heart may beat faster, the temperature may rise, but the purpose of intimate contact is professional. "Physical contact with a female nurse during a delicate examination can produce a natural reaction in a male patient," I reassured Jerry."Priming the pump triggers the launch. I hope so," Jerry replied.Announcing as we swept into the locker room, "Gentlemen prepare to launch your rockets, 10-9 -8-7 ...," Darrie pushed a button on her notepad. The clang of the plastic covers falling to the ground followed. While I collected the fallen shields, Darry declared, "Fun time! Examination of the genitalia."When she reached Mr.Flesher who managed to conceal himself at the end of the line, he was shaking; his fair skin was burnished red. In a soothing voice, Darry assured Flesher, "There's no shame in a natural reaction to physical contact with a female during a genital examination."Hushing the other men, Darrie sent them into the shower, noting, "Go take care of what you came here to do."As the other men filtered out into the shower, Darrie called me over. "Mr.Flesher," she addressed him, maintaining eye contact, "Let me introduce Amy Warbler, our new Nursing Assistant. I need to report to Dr. Velour our boss that Nurse Warbler is fully capable of conducting exams on her own. Can you help me teach our Nurse Warbler the art of an intimate examination? It'll only take a sec. Then you can get hitched to the hitching post for release. That's what you came here for, right?"In practicing with Jerry, I pronounced, "Fourth, inspect the scrotum. Hmm," I interjected, "I get to keep hold of your joystick. Moving the penis out of the way, inspect all sides of the scrotum. Lift the scrotum to check its underside."In the locker, Darrie thanked Mr.Flesher, "Good! My examination will only take a couple more minutes before you're on your way to the hitching post, release and ecstasy."In my dry run with Jerry, I reached the Fifth stage "palpating," I interjected, "that's an inflated medical term for examining by touch, the testicles.""Inflated? That's an interesting word. Sounds like fun," Jerry's laughter went into the falsetto range when I pinched a testicle."With my thumbs and index fingers," I explained, "I roll the testes between the fingers to detect potential abnormalities. Feel along the duct work, the epididymis tube and the duct deferens which deliver the sperm for ejaculation.""Go easy," Jerry's voice ventured into the falsetto range."That wasn't so bad. Your examination is over," I advised Jerry, "You're free to have fun. Thank you for being such a good boy," I patted his tush, "for behaving yourself and cooperating." I turned my back on Jerry to take off my gloves and drop them in the bathroom."Free!" Jerry exclaimed. When I felt his hands gripping me. Lifted off my feet, I felt the pj bottoms slide away. Bent at the waist, I heard Jerry yell "I don't have to be good, no more, but it will be good."In the locker, Darrie concluded Flesher's examination. "Not so bad, was it? You passed your exam with flying colors," Darrie counselled Mr. Flesher, "You're dangling free. Go have fun with it!" As Flesher walked away, Dearie whispered, "never turn your back on a released donor."At home, Jerry exclaimed, "Time for fun." A wild expression cropped on his face. "The pump's been primed, the torrents will flow." I felt the warmth of his body nestle between the half-moons of my ass while his nimble fingers separated my vaginal lips. Then he hesitated."Go ahead. Fuck me." I ordered Jerry. Tease, denial and release, I wondered as I gasped when Jerry penetrated, was that the magic?Chapter 5: Nature of the AttractionIn my senior year in college, I worked several hours in the early morning before classes in a fertility clinic. It was part of my internship toward my degree in Industrial Psychology. In my rotation as a student intern in the clinic, I, through study and practical training, had earned a promotion out of maintenance into the Nursing Department as an assistant.Smart in her white lab coat and dark dress, Dr. Velour introduced the study to three nursing assistant candidates gathered in her office."We start our study with the male body because it is less complex, designed for an important, but momentary role in reproduction," Dr. Velour's word brought a ripple of giggling to the motley group of prospective nursing assistants."This is a business," Dr. Velour expounded, "We have to recruit livestock, groom their bodies, generate interest in purchasers, draw and refine the product and sell it. Initially, our question in dealing with the men, is what makes a man want to `bind his loins' in a cock-blocker, hitch his penis to a machine and discharge his seed into a hitching post? The answer at least initially is curiosity."I chuckled. Ever since I obtained this internship, my husband Jerry has beseeched me to sneak him in to test his equipment. Didn't I put out enough? I lay crunched up like a pretzel, hands bound behind my back with my bra, complaints squelched with panties in my mouth too often to think differently.It was hard to think of Jerry tied docilely to a hitching post at the Clinic to be jerked off. For foreplay, Jerry preferred wrestling me to the ground. Taken by surprise, forced face down, with Jerry strong hands tugging at the waistband of my jeans, I'd spur Jerry on by pleading, "Don't rip my clothes, Jerry. I don't get paid till next week."Was Jerry jealous or afraid my job involved physical contact with other men? No, Jerry was so curious so much so he wanted me to reenact the protocols in sperm extraction."You come to the clinic through different pathways, bringing different experiences to the study. Dr. Velour looked from student to student, "we have Amy, here, a student in Industrial Psychology at the local college. Perhaps with Amy's background in Industrial Psychology, she will develop a clearer idea the motivation of the persons involved in the people involved in the donation process. Amy?""My ugh-experience tells me curiosity is a good hypothesis," I replied. The room filled with chuckling, "Men are always looking for a new spot to anchor their spar in."When the laughter subsided, Dr. Velour pointed out a girl with muscular forearms and legs, "Next, we have Cassie. She's a gymnast who has been working in the gym; Pat," Dr. Velour pointed out a college girl like me, "a participant in our experiment in inducing the mammary glands to produce milk; and Beth," Dr. Velour pointed to a woman in her mid-thirties, "a surrogate.""Regardless of sex, however," Dr. Velour continued, "the brain is the largest sex organ. Oh, the body reacts to physical stimulation and once aroused can control the mind, but the mind creates the expectations in given situations.""Thus, because male body's function in reproduction is limited," Dr. Velour ex

Beginning next week, we'll be shifting the conversation here on the main feed away from wellness 'cult'ure convos. But first, back in early February, Candice invited Tracy Stamper to record a last-minute release for Patreon, and it soon after became one of this pod's most downloaded bonus episodes to date. Flying monkey is a term popularized in cult recovery spaces.  Borrowed from the storyline of the Wizard of Oz, it describes a high-demand group dynamic wherein hardcore loyalists reinforce ideology and allegiance to the group by policing behavior, expression, and dissenting opinions. But the thing is, in the world of new age wellness, flying monkey behavior isn't always easy to suss out. It often masquerades as concern and/or sugar-coated redirections that are directed toward those who are wavering in their devotion; aka no longer 'all-in.' And in more extreme instances, it can look like victim shaming (see Ep.59). Shrugging off good-girl conditioning, Candice & Tracy share never-told stories about what's been happening behind the scenes, and how dogma placed in service to good intentions can actually do more harm. You'll hear what it's been like fielding ongoing criticism from Org loyalists. They take a critical look at “the high road” - what is it, really?... offer a closer look at 'soft-power coercion'... and also at how gaslighting can get dressed up in holy garb. Also, is there a razor thin line between compassion and complicity? Candice references how the groundbreaking work of Regina Jackson & Saira Roa has been helping her to wake up to her own blindspots and moral complacency. And Tracy reflects on her own flying monkey behavior back in the day, and then offers a compelling counterargument to those who'd rather we STFU because "what about my business?!" Which leads to an in-real-time reality check around why - despite their shared desire to move away from the subject - they're still talking about the Org. (Can we be done now, pretty please?!)Referenced In This Episode:Bounded Choice: Who Is Accountable? w/ Dr. Janja LalichWhite Women: Everything You Already Know About Your Own Racism and How to Do Better, by Regina Jackson & Saira RoaDeconstructing Karen - Apple TV documentarySupport the showThe stories and opinions shared in this episode are based on personal experience and are not intended to malign any individual, group, or organization.Join The Deeper Pulse at Patreon for weekly bonus episodes + other exclusive bonus content. Follow The Deeper Pulse on IG @thedeeperpulse + @candiceschutter for more regular updates.

The Peddler & the Fairy: Part 1 Human merchant and fairy journey together.  In 10 parts, by Scholarly Mori. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Chapter 1 Along the king's highway, among the edge of the tree line a small fairy flitted her way between the scraggly firs and majestic spruce. At first glance it appeared she had no particular destination in mind. She kept stopping every so often, perched on a branch and looked expectantly toward the road a few moments then then took off again. As she steadily made her way south she soon spotted a dot moving toward her in the distance. Landing once again on the edge of a branch she sat and kicked her dangling legs waiting for the dot to move closer. [[MORE]] Nearing a suitable distance the outline of a wagon soon came into view; a wagon pulled by an old bay horse. Four wheels with thick spokes carried tall sideboards formed an enclosed box. In that box tied down with ropes so they wouldn't jostle were thick kegs, large burlap sacks, few bundles of animal skins, and other things she didn't recognize. In front of this assortment of goods in the box seat of this buckboard style wagon sat a human, male, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties. On his feet were old boots having seen many a rough day of walking or heavy lifting. Above those were some leather breeches tied together with a belt. Dotting the belt was a dagger nestled between pouches of varying size. The belt was attached to a strap of leather running up to the man's shoulders. Wrapped securely were vials of different colored liquids. His lean yet sturdy frame was wrapped in a two piece set of shirts, a soft cotton white undershirt protected by a leather tunic securely tied with cordage forming V of at the neck. Draped along the backrest of the seat next to him was a long thick leathered cloak stained with mud and the cares of travel. Animal fur adorned the hood and shoulders. He gazed ahead unseeing, daydreaming, maybe of more interesting things then sitting slowly waiting for the miles to pass. The fairy looked poised to move toward the wagon, assessing its contents, the man and his horse. Making up her mind she bee-lined straight for the wagon. Feeling slightly nervous but also excited she landed on the seat next to the driver. "Hello human. What's your name?" She asked. Jumping slightly, the driver looked around startled. His eyes soon landed on the diminutive occupant next to him. She looked to be about six or seven inches tall. Four pairs of translucent wings dotted her back, glimmering with each slight movement bending the light into soft rainbow cascades. She wore a small transparent cloak of spider or maybe arachne silk interwoven with green vine patterns. Sitting upon her brow was a wreath of white 'pearly-everlastings'; a type of flower that grows in cold climates. Her hair was black with two thick braids, one behind each of her pointed ears, the rest was free flowing fanning down to her mid-back. Two tiny violet clematis flower petals draped down over her larger than expected breasts like little flaps hiding her nipples but doing nothing to conceal the sides. She had a bare midriff and a dress composed of four of the same type of petals but larger, hanging down to her knees. They covered her front, back and sides but left a gap between, offering a view of her proportioned thighs. She had stockings made of possibly the same material as the cloak but it was dyed slightly white complimenting her skin tone. She wasn't pale; she looked like she enjoyed spending just enough time outdoors to be sun-kissed but not enough for a tan, in other words, ruddy. A smattering of freckles powdered the bridge of a cute button nose. She carried two medium packed satchels under each arm, hanging from her shoulders. Her adorable face wore an expression of nervousness but also intensely energetic inquisitiveness. In short she looked nothing like the stories he'd heard or seen pictures in books. She wasn't fair skinned and twig thin. If he'd have to use three words to describe her they'd be: adorable, hardy, cuddly. Impatient playful amethyst eyes stared at him, awaiting an answer. Blinking several times to make sure he wasn't still daydreaming he reflexively answered her question: "Um, hello? I'm Devin Ebonplume, a traveling merchant." Gazing up at him the fairy broke into a smile and started barraging Devin with what sounded like her life story: "hi my name is Azalea and I finally came of age and left my home on a journey to find a life mate but I'm not so sure how and, " "Whoa, hold on." Devin cut in. "Slow down, start from the beginning at a slower pace please. "Sorry." Azalea said sheepishly. "It's been several years since I've talked to someone so I'm a little nervous." "My name is Azalea Ó Gallchobhair. I've left my village in search of a life-mate. I believe I may have found one but I'm uncertain if they will accept it and how to go about broaching the subject." Still trying to come to terms that a real fairy was having a conversation with him randomly out of the blue, and about her future love life no less; being curious (and insanely bored) a conversation might help pass the time. Devin thought for a moment. "If I may suggest, maybe just start with casual conversation, ask about hobbies, interests, maybe what you or they want out of the relationship. Ya know, get to know them." Azalea sat down cross-legged, her dress fanning out around her. "Good idea!" She exclaimed. "So, what hobbies do you have?" "Well I enjoy," Devin began then paused. 'Wait a minute.' He thought. Maybe it was not talking to anyone for a week or maybe he was just sluggish from sitting in the warm sun all day. His brain suddenly pieced together who this conversation was referring to. "This life-mate you're referring to," Devin began slowly, "it wouldn't happen to be me would it?" "Yup! Who else would it be about, silly?" There was a slightly awkward silence as Devin processed this information. Devin assumed she was talking about a boy fairy. "Is, is this common amongst your kind?" Devin asked. "Hmm, I wouldn't say it's common but it's not exactly rare either. My mother married an orc." She answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Another awkward silence as Devin tried to figure out what in the world this conversation had divulged into. How would that kind of relationship work? Thinking of the most blaring and maybe obvious problem first: "Forgive my ignorance." Isn't there, ya know, a slight size problem among, um, a pairing like that?" He queried. "Fairies are pretty stretchy." She answered, rocking back and forth. "If our life-mate is bigger than what we can handle, we have, other ways to please them." She giggled. Devin's imagination was actively trying to decrypt that last statement. "Ok, but why a human, or more importantly why me?!" "Well," She put her pointer fingers together cutely. "Several reasons: I'm very curious about human culture. I've heard they make super big villages out of trees & stone and there are tons and tons of different people who live together and they cook all kinds of tasty food!" "Also, you didn't look like a scary person. Your horse, even though she is really old, looks like she is strongly loyal to you so I figured you couldn't be a bad person if she trusts you." The information about his horse surprised him. He knew she was getting along in years but not that he had that level of rapport with her. Azalea continued on: "you look like you travel a lot. I've spent all my life in my village and really want to see the world." "And, lastly," Azalea continued in a slightly quieter voice "I, like to be stuffed." She rubbed her thighs together looking at Devin's crotch hungrily. "While I've never taken something quite as big as a human, I could fit you, maybe, probably?" Devin raised an eyebrow at this final reason. Maybe she just wanted a free ride with benefits. Taking a deep breath Devin gazed into her amethyst eyes looking for any type of alternative motive or mischievous but she appeared to be very serious. "Let me take a moment to think, this is all so sudden." "Okie." She chirped. Devin had heard of many inter-demi-human couples though never with a fairy. While he wasn't opposed to the idea he always kind of imagined it would be with a human girl, settling down in a town somewhere and, he wasn't quite sure what he'd do afterward. Azalea already said she wanted to travel and see new places so not settling down appeared to be a plus to her. He was also slightly concerned about her lack of caution. Coming right up to a random stranger, especially one much bigger than her and striking up a conversation out of the blue didn't seem the most sensible thing to do. Humans weren't known to always be the most benevolent of species. Fairies supposedly knew magic so maybe she wasn't as defenseless as she appeared. Mulling over the last issue of size; Azalea said it wouldn't be a problem. While sex alone wasn't a make or break decision he admitted he was slightly aroused by the idea of seeing her petite form wrapped around him. Mulling over these thoughts he looked back at his tiny guest. Devin's eyes widened slightly; she had the front petal of her dress lifted, legs splayed and three fingers stuffed into her cunt and her thumb circling her clit. A small wet puddle was beginning to form under her bottom. Her breathing was slightly heavy. She noticed him looking and smiled sweetly. She removed her fingers and spread her lips, offering a clear view of her vagina drooling a generous amount of lubricant. He was slightly impressed how swollen her lips were, they were downright puffy. He hadn't seen them in their non-aroused state so he wasn't sure she was naturally like that or if it was due to her excitement. She was obviously trying to tip his decision to a yes by offering further incentive. Azalea cocked her head to the side as if saying: "well, will you be my life-mate?" Tearing his eyes away from her cunt back to her eyes: "Is this something you really want? We come from completely different backgrounds and cultures?" "I've spent the last ten years looking for a life-mate, not just among humans but many other demi-humans. You're the first one to have seriously caught my fancy." She explained as she pulled the little hood covering her clit back rubbing it needfully. This whole conversation was surreal to Devin and also mystified him. He didn't think he had any particularly outstanding traits or features that made him stand out to a human, let alone a fairy. "Hypothetically if I did say yes, what would this, union entail?" "Well,” she mused, “I'd perform the love crest ritual, then I'd live with you, go where you go, see and experience all the new things and places we visited. You could show me how humans live, and I could teach you about fairy culture. though it's not very interesting in my opinion. When we camped for the night we could satisfy our needs as life-mates and cuddle afterwards around the fire." She said longingly. The pool continued to increase in size below her crotch. To Devin this sounded pretty reasonable. "I must warn you, while the places I stop have many interesting and fascinating things to see, the journey between them is rather dull." "That's fine, I can suck you off, or paint the passing scenery, masturbate, sing some fairy songs for you, ask you about human culture, you know, get to know each other kind of stuff." She said pragmatically. Devin mentally did a slight double take at her choice of activities to do when bored. He felt himself getting slightly hard thinking about the implications of this relationship. But he was still hesitant. The small amount of information they had so far exchanged did help in imagining their future life together but there were still so many unknowns. The offer was very tempting and he'd admit he had thought about having a companion on his travels many times during the moments just before sleep. Maybe he wasn't thinking entirely logical and more with his bottom half as he watched her fingers caress her seed sized pleasure button. Her expectant eyes continued to gaze at him awaiting his reply. It didn't seem like a bad relationship, she was very cute and her bubbly personality wasn't bad either. He had one last question. "Are you always this horny?" She thought for a moment. "Yes? But I'm usually only open about it to people who I trust or want to be friends with. Or, when I'm trying to sway a certain someone's decision." She winked, stopping her rubbing momentarily to flash him another look. Taking a deep breath Devin said: "Ok, I'll be your life-mate or whatever your custom is. What is this ritual you mentioned we have to do? Find someone to marry/bind us, make a magical pact or something?" Stopping her hand mid shlick, Azalea jumped up excitedly. "Basically the second option. We call it a love crest and it binds the pair together and bestows several benefits." Licking her fingers clean of her juices she dexterously removed her cloak, top and dress. Turning around she bent over and started rummaging around her satchels for something. Devin's eye was instantly drawn to her cute little ass, happily swaying back and forth. He made note her hips and thighs had slightly more thickness than would have been expected on such a tiny frame. Finding what she was looking for she turned around holding out two small glass bottles and a brush. Plopping down in a sitting position once again (avoiding the puddle she made earlier) she leaned back on the benches' backrest and started drawing, or more accurately painting something on her lower abdomen. Watching her for several minutes he remarked: "you're very skilled at painting, it must be hard in that position." "Thanks, it's one of my favorite things to do. I like drawing village life, animals, and pretty things. This is the first time I've drawn a love crest though." "After several minutes Devin was getting the impression he had seen the thing she was drawing somewhere before. Searching his memory, he seemed to recollect seeing a similar shaped thing at an alchemist laboratory once. There were several jars filled with different preserved organs. Then it dawned on him. "Azalea, is that perchance, .your reproductive organs?" "Mmm hmm, my womb and those things that make my eggs I think, I'm not super familiar with anatomy. I was only taught the basics, and how to add and subtract crests to have differing effects." She explained. Not schooled in the arcane arts he had no idea what this meant or if this was a common form of magic or not. It did sort of remind him of the runes he used on occasion when transporting commodities that would spoil easily. He looked at the chilled kegs behind him. He wondered if crests were related or if they were some offshoot branch of magic. "Can you explain to me in more detail what this crest does?" He asked. Without looking up she explained: Crests are used by females with magical affinity. When combined with a male's glyphs the two can,” "A male's what?" Devin interrupted. "Male's with magic affinity use glyphs instead of crests." Azalea clarified. When a crest and glyph user make physical contact of any kind they can share any techniques they've learned or any of their natural abilities. For example demi-humans with exceptional strength, or stamina, or enhanced sensory capabilities. Depending on affinity and compatibility it may take time and practice to become attuned to each other enough to share. Certain non-natural abilities also have the potential of having negative repercussions if the person being shared can't handle them." "Does this mean you could share your ability to fly with me?" Devin asked excitedly. Azalea put her hand on her chin. "I'm not sure, my flight magic only allows me to hover, my wings are what actually enable me to move. In theory if you had wings probably but since you don't you'd just float in place. "What other abilities do you have?" Devin asked. Dipping her brush in the ink. "I can detect living auras within a certain radius and sense physiological changes. "If I'm in danger I can produce a hallucinogenic to confuse people." Devin contemplated her words. "The love crest doesn't sound like it fits either of those categories, what makes it special?" "I suppose you could look at it as a sensory and enhancement crest. Two people who use this and fall in love gain a boost to their magical potency and in time an empathic bond. In other words they can sense the emotions of each other, but just the emotions, not physical sensations or anything like that, and they can't read each other's thoughts either. The empathy link I'm told takes a long time to develop so we probably won't notice it for a while." "Is this the type of pact where if one of the two people gets hurt or dies the other does as well?" Asked Devin hesitantly. "No, not unless you want it to be, it would be a much more elaborate crest and,” Azalea trailed off looking up with concern. "No, no I was just curious, since humans don't live very long I'd hate for you to have your lifespan cut short because of me." Devin assured her. "You don't have to worry about that, when we are bonded you'll have a similar lifespan to mine." She grinned. "I'm not very knowledgeable about fairies, how long do your kind live exactly?" "Northern fairies live around three hundred years but the oldest I've heard sometimes reach four hundred; I'm not sure about the lowland fairies." Devin's draw dropped. "So you mean I'm gonna be able to live for three hundred years or does it cut your lifespan and add it to mine?" "It gets added so we'll both have a long time to get to know each other and be all lovey-dovey." She said dreamily. Devin didn't quite know how to react, what would he do for three centuries? Obviously falling in love with someone for that long had its attraction. The prospect of living essentially three lifetimes was a bit daunting. Would he be a merchant for the first hundred then switch to something else? Possibilities swirled around in his head when Azalea announced she was done. She stood up proudly and thrust her belly out showing her handiwork. The basic shape was indeed in the shape of her womb and ovaries but a lot of detail was added then the basic shape he remembered in the jar. "Aside from the basic crest I added two other special crests." She said pointing to the heart shaped womb portion. Devin bent over to get a better look. Below there was a circle filled with three fourths of some liquid. Above that she had drawn several sperm shaped drawings. He only knew this because the same alchemical lab he thought about earlier had a curious device made of several glass lenses. The owner had let him look at several small thin glass plates of several liquids, semen being one of them. Devin doubted such a device was common. How did she know what they looked like? Veering his thoughts back to her explanation, she continued. "I've basically merged three crests into one. This one denotes a siphoning crest." Pointing to the half-filled circle. "Every time you or I orgasm while touching each other will fill you with energy, and I'll feel a decrease in energy. This is physical energy by the way, not magical energy. The crest updates in real time so when the circle looks like it's empty of liquid I won't be able to physically move but can still cast magic. So I'll expect you to keep me topped off." She gave a playful wink. Devin looked again at the sperm shapes. It was pretty obvious what she wanted as a fuel source. She was in full teacher mode, smugly explaining this crazy magic system. "On either side of this liquid circle I've drawn two curved lines representing my vagina and a narrow channel up through my womb, as well as your essence (when it's present)," pointing to the sperm. "These three drawings combined into what I call a deep focus crest. It's essentially a magnification ability. It magnifies my ability to see and feel EVERYTHING down there: cunt, womb, egg making things." "Ovaries." Devin interjected. "Yes, those things. It'll even let me mentally visualize your essence swimming in." Well that explained how she knew what sperm cells looked like. "Why would you need this kind of crest?" Azalea folded her arms in thought. "Northern fairy magic is centered around our life creating organs. If you think about my womb and the crest being linked like a magical machine, it lets me keep a better eye on the engine to make sure everything is functioning ok. Also it lets me feel stronger orgasms, and," she fidgeted a little, "It's kinda hot watching your essence frantically swimming around searching for my eggs,” She giggled nervously. "Is that weird?" "I think it's an oddly specific kink, but if you're looking for affirmation; if you're happy, I'm happy." Azalea internally sighed with relief. She was worried telling Devin too many of her weirder kinks might make him think less of her in some way. It was true she was horny a lot of the time. But she was also highly curious about all the different aspects of pleasure. She had her favorites of course but was willing to try almost anything for new experiences and it was a bonus if she could share that enjoyment with another. She got little thrills teasing Devin with her titillating actions. But it wasn't only that, she was gently prodding his limits to see what he was comfortable with. So far his mild mannered attitude was making her want him as a life-mate even more. "I have some additional questions." Devin said, breaking into her thoughts. "Are you able to get pregnant?" "I've put a pregnancy blocker around my, what you call them, ovaries, so you can fill me up as much as you want without worry. If for whatever reason the blockers fail I can just absorb your essence as energy before they reach my eggs." "So interspecies pairings can produce offspring?" Devin inquired further. "Of course, how do you think new fairies are made? Offspring are always fairies though, never half breeds. I don't know why, maybe demi-human genes are more dominant.'' "And my last question, what if one of the partners doesn't have any magic affinity?" Azalea brow furrowed. This was something she hadn't considered. "You don't know magic?" She asked, slightly taken aback. "Well no, I'm just a merchant, there are some humans that are educated and study it but it's not something everyone learns." Azalea furrowed her brow in thought. "Well," she said slowly. "Depends what your affinity level is. If you have zero affinity I'll have to supply all the magic to keep the crest stable and to be able to supply both of us when we share my abilities. If you have a latent affinity it's just a matter of training and exercise to awaken it or at the very least make your body aware of it. Either way we'll have to get you tested." Azalea wasn't sure how to get Devin tested. Certain lodestone crystals could ascertain that but they were hard to find and process into a usable form. Azalea looked up at Devin with a naughty expression. "It's difficult to find the tools to figure out your exact affinity but the simplest way to find the answer if you have any affinity at all is right here." Azalea made a circle with her finger and thumb and mimicked pumping something into her mouth and pointed to the sperm drawings on her stomach. Devin's body flushed at her lewd implications. "In either case let's just assume you have some affinity. I'll draw half a supplementary crest on you and supply both our needs till we know for sure." She said, looking at his crotch and licking her lips. Devin swallowed at her slight predatory stare. "So, where are you going to draw the crest?" He asked. Her eyes continued drifting to Devin's crotch several times. Devin noticed this but didn't say anything. After musing for a moment Azalea voiced her thoughts. "I could put it in a similar place as mine, but I don't know where humans focus their magic from. Maybe your life-producing organs." Pointing to Devin's balls. Devin's penis twitched at that implication. Azalea noticed and smiled. "But that seems unlikely. Besides, they will be too busy filling me up." She said rubbing her tummy. "The most logical place I can figure is around the heart and the hand, primarily because I heard somewhere human mages use hand gestures or something to cast spells. I'm gonna need you to remove your shirt." Devin hesitated for a moment before removing his vest and undershirt. Bare-chested he was glad it was still relatively warm this time of year. "Put your hand out palm down please." Devin extended his hand. Azaleas flitted up, ink and brush in hand. "Ok I'm going to begin." The bristles tickled Devin's skin as she applied the ink to his skin. "What's in the ink?" Devin asked. "Some powdered crystals, a few flecks of silver, and me." She quipped. "You? what do you mean you?" Azalea stopped painting, ran her pointer finger between her legs showing Devin a sticky strand of mucus connecting them. It's more magically conductive if I make it when I'm aroused. It's doubly so if I make it when I'm producing an egg. I'll leave it to your imagination when you think I made this batch." She said sticking her tongue out between her teeth playfully. While she worked Devin's eyes drifted to her naked body. She was closer to his eye level so he could see her in more detail. Her breasts definitely were more plump then he imagined a fairy would have since most stories and pictures portrayed them as small, perky or almost flat. Her wings were very similar to dragonfly wings in structure but their shape was more that of butterflies and there were an extra pair. Squinting he noticed they were emitting some kind of, magical haze? Similar to when heated air rises on a hot surface; barely noticeable unless you look closely. That must be the magic she used to float. He thought. "Not to sound rude Azalea, but I noticed you have more, substance to you then what stories often depict fairies looking like." Azalea, understanding his meaning, tensed up a little. "You mean how my hips and breasts are bigger and I have a little more body fat? The fairies you're thinking of live in warmer climates down south. It's cold up here so I guess us northern fairies adapted a bit to help us handle the cold better. Why do you ask? Do you prefer fairies with small boobs and a slim figure?" She looked up at him worriedly. "No, nothing like that, I was just making an observation and trying to fill in the gaps of my fairy knowledge. Actually I think breasts are a bit sexier when they look full, and have a little weight and bounce to them." Azalea pushed chest up a bit with her forearm. "Ya know," she said coyly, "If you like them full, there is a crest I might add later that makes them lactate if that's something that would please you." "I,I,wouldn't be opposed to the idea." Devin swallowed. Azalea giggled and returned to her painting. She was at his shoulder now and working down to his chest. "Could you flip your hand over, it's easier to stand on." Devin did so. His thoughts were still lingering on the milk topic wondering how much they'd produce and what it'd taste like. His merchant brain also wondered if there was a market for fairy milk and who would buy it. "Do you mind if I touch you?" "Of course not, we are about to be life-mates." She said pleased. Devin extended his other hand, gingerly bringing his finger tip down on her head. Even though she wasn't like the other types of fairies she still looked so delicate and he feared hurting her so as carefully as he could he started petting her head. Instinctually she crouched down a little feeling the weight bear down on her. She soon realized what he was trying to do and pushed back, rubbing her head against his finger in response as he stroked her hair. A broad smile stretched across her face and she hummed happily while she worked. Feeling a little braver Devin started exploring her a bit more. He felt the softness of her belly and thighs. She giggled a little and he guessed maybe she was a bit ticklish. Moving further down he lifted her breasts and took note of their weight and firmness wondering how much they'd change filled with milk. She stuck out her ass a bit as he moved around to the backside. It was firm enough to bounce, but still plush enough to snuggle into. Moving to the final area of curiosity he gently traced where her wings connected to her back and along the edge to the tip. She shivered a little at the sensation. "Does it feel good when I do that to your wings?" He asked. "I wouldn't consider them an erogenous zone but they are very sensitive so yes." She mewed. He noticed her cunt was once again leaking, forming a puddle on his palm, he wasn't sure if it was his ministrations or whether she was still horny from earlier or both. "Do you need to, um, take care of that?" Azalea looked down. "I probably should, I was enjoying the denial a little but it's getting harder to focus on painting, if you would be so kind as to assist me." "How may I help?" "Can you fold one of your fingers down please." Devin folded his middle finger so it pointed towards his palm with his pointer and ring pointing up. Azalea floated back to the bench putting her brush and ink jar with her discarded clothes. Returning to his hand she walked over to the extended finger straddling it facing away from him. As she settled down, the sudden pressure leaked more of her juices around his digit, lubing it up. Given how aroused she was and how plump her lips were, Devin was reminded of a wet sponge. "This'll satisfy nicely." Azalea said achingly. She started grinding herself on his second knuckle. Settling into a steady pace, she leaned forward, occasionally pulling her clit hood back rocking her hips for maximum sensation. Watching and listening to the cute moans and gasps from his new horny little friend caused his own arousal to increase and with it a growing erection. He swept back some of her hair behind her ear that had fallen in front of her face Noticing this action Azalea opened her eyes, giving a loving smile. She grabbed his finger tip with both hands and pulled it close giving it sweet kisses and rubbed her cheek against it. "I'm going to give you so many more kisses when we find a chance to snuggle." She said between moans. "I look forward to it." Azalea knew it wouldn't take long to reach her climax. She had been edging herself since they met. She sped up her movements, scraping and mashing her cunt seeking sweet release. "Can I watch your face when you cum Azalea?" Azalea turned gazing into her lover's eyes. "I'm, just, about, ready, to, to, cumming!" Azalea cried as her first orgasm washed through her. Her body tensed, her eyes rolled back and her wings extended to full length fluttering slightly. Devin felt a sudden rush of liquid spread over his finger adding to the moderately large pool on his palm. She grabbed onto his ring finger for extra support as she clenched her thighs together. Devin became suddenly aware of several things happening at once. He noticed a strong pinkish glow emanating from the crest on her abdomen. Her stomach then started to inflate slightly as if being filled with something. Grabbing her swollen belly with her left hand she doubled over as her body released its pleasure. The light glow around her lost some of its intensity as it flowed from her crest into his finger, at the same time her belly deflated slightly. The light flowed from his finger down through his hand, up his arm and into the half finished crest. Upon reaching the end of his half finished crest a sudden hot impact of energy having nowhere to go surged throughout his torso and limbs. Looking back at Azalea her body relaxed momentarily then spasmed again as her second orgasm surged through her radiant body. Again the same thing happened, light transferred, belly deflated. Whereas the first impact felt like stepping outside taking a deep breath and feeling a slight exhilarating intake of oxygen, the second surge caused his body to feel lighter. Looking back at his blissful little fairy, her eyes were still rolled up into her head and her mouth agape. As her third and final orgasm crashed over her she gritted her teeth and whimpered. The now much dimmer light and fully deflated belly disappeared entirely as it left her body and flowed into his. This third impact was greater than the other two combined, he felt empowered, like he could run a marathon or race a horse and never get tired. After a few moments his crest glow dimmed. He was a little glad, he was a bit afraid what a fourth burst of energy would feel like, or what it would do to her. Even though the initial intensity of energy wore off, his faculties still felt very alert and his body amazingly light. He thought back to her explanation of the siphoning crest. 'Is this what it felt like?' Then he remembered the consequences of the transfer. He brought her up to eye level to get a closer look at her exhausted form. Like a sail devoid of wind she splayed over his finger, eyes half lidded, tongue lolled out, taking large lungfuls of air to re-oxygenate her body after such exertion. Lightly stroking her drooping wings she didn't appear to respond. He was worried that maybe she had completely drained that circle thing on her crest and couldn't move. Folding her wings together carefully he flipped her over in his palm. He breathed a sigh of relief, the circle still had a fraction of something in it but was dangerously close to being depleted. He lightly stroked her hair. After a minute or two she regained some sense of her surroundings. Pulling her tongue back into her mouth she swallowed some saliva and refocused her vision. Locking eyes she gave a delighted and gratified grin. "That looked like quite the experience." Devin mused. Azalea smiled tiredly. "Since this is my first love crest I wasn't prepared for the intensity, also it felt so good I might have given it my all plus a little extra. Congratulations, you just took my magic crest virginity." She laughed. Devin wasn't sure how to respond to that. "You look pretty spent, do you need some water or something?" "If you would, we fairies tend to, leak quite a bit when aroused." On hearing this he looked at the thimble amount of love juice he still had in his right palm. Regarding it a moment he brought it to his mouth slurping it up. Azalea's eyes widened in surprise. She watched him swish it around considering the taste, savoring it a moment before swallowing. She may have just unlocked a new fetish, seeing someone drink her juices. "I've never actually tasted myself, how is it?" "It tastes salty and a bit sweet, but leaning heavier on the sweet side. I'll clean you up and then get you some water." "Thank you." She said leaning back. Thinking that he meant to wipe her clean with a cloth or something she squeaked as she was taken between his fingers and brought to his mouth. In one long sensual lick from the bottom of her thighs to the top of her mound her body twitched and shuddered as her oversensitive genitals met the surface of his tongue. Swallowing the little extra liquid he gathered from the 'cleaning' he gently placed her in his lap as he rummaged in a bag hanging on the wagon next to him. "You almost made me gush again doing that." "Sorry, I wondered what it tasted like directly from the source." "I'll let you drink as much as you want next time." She purred. Rifling through a bag he pulled out a flask of water and another little bag. Placing the water to the side he opened up the tinier bag, which happened to be a sewing kit, pulled out a thimble, poured some water into it and handed it to Azalea. Propping herself up she took the thimble and drank a little more than one fourth before handing it back and nestling back into his lap. "I'm gonna take a little nap." She yawned. You earned it, have a good rest little one." "Oh, I like that, you calling me your little one, please use it as my pet name sometimes!" "Sure." "When I wake up I'll take care of this." She said, patting his almost forgotten erection. "I would appreciate that but no hurry, after you have rested." Kissing his penis through his pants she coiled up into a fetal position. As she drifted off she mumbled. "Thank you for being my life-mate." Hear those words, any reservation Devin had about this union disappeared entirely. He felt the beginnings of a strong deep desire to keep his, what was this relationship? Companion? Partner? Bride? All of the above and maybe more. He thought, touching the crest on his chest. In any case he had a strong and growing desire to keep her safe and happy. Feeling a sudden breeze he put his shirt back on, leaving his vest off. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten. All this time his trusty horse had continued to pull them along without much as the slightest input from her driver. This wasn't the first time they had traveled this stretch of road so she probably remembered the route well. Thinking back on what Azalea had said about her, she had pulled his wagon for many years and was nearing retirement age for. He needed to find a place where she could live out her golden years at the next opportunity. He had a place in mind but would have to consult the owners. It was late afternoon and the sun still had a few hours before it set. He should probably find a secluded camping place soon. Unfortunately there were no inns on this stretch of road. He didn't like to be too near the road, especially with a fire. It shouted come rob me to any potential bandits looking for an easy target. Looking down at the small naked form in his lap. She was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling with each breath. He fondly stroked her hair and wondered why he enjoyed it so much. Maybe it was something akin to petting a cute kitten or bunny. "I wonder if she gets cold?" He grabbed his vest and draped a corner of it over her. Scooping up her discarded clothes on the bench next to him he placed them in his bag to make sure they didn't get lost or damaged; although the thought of her floating naked next to him all the time did have a certain appeal. But she also looked really cute in these clothes. "I wonder what she would look like in other outfits?" His imagination swirled with possibilities. The dresses the farmer's daughters wore had a simple and rustic appeal with their laced top dresses, rolled up sleeves and small aprons. On the rare opportunity he had dropped goods off at a rich lord's manor. The maids there were dressed up in an outfit Azalea would look adorable in. Maybe he could get a tailor to make some miniature versions. Several more ideas entered his head, some wholesome, some not so wholesome. In any case he'd ask her about her clothes' craftsmanship later because he was curious about their durability and maybe suggest if she'd be open to the idea of a little dress up. Taking a final look to make sure everything was cleaned up and in order his eyes fell on the puddle she had first made on the bench. He stared at it for a long moment; slowly extended his finger, hovered just above as if trying to come to a decision. Running his finger through the liquid part that hadn't quite dried he brought it close and looked at it. "What kind of pervert am I becoming? First wanting to see her naked or dress her up like a doll, and now wanting to lick her juices from a bench." He thought self-deprecatingly. Shrugging in defeat to his own immoral desire he licked his finger. The taste still had traces of her but much less potent then it had when he experienced it directly from the source. He was sure he'd become addicted to this flavor in time. Dragging his thoughts away to more practical matters he considered how best to take care of her. Should he try to sew her a little sleeping bag and blanket, maybe a pocket in his shirts when and if she got tired or they needed to be more discreet about her presence. What did she eat? Did she eat at all? She mentioned human cuisine so she probably did. What other things wasn't he considering that he needed to to take care of her. Devin sometimes got lost in his own thought processes and tended to over think things. "One thing at a time." He reminded himself. Tearing his mind away back to the most immediate concern, reach a place he felt safe camping at and settle in for the night. Taking the reins, the horse, wagon and its two occupants bounced along down the old king's highway. To be continued in part 2, by Scholarly Mori for Literotica.

Shrugging off another bout of man flu to bring you Ireland's hottest TV star in Sweden right now. Fireman Mark Bannon from Cork is blazing a trail on "Robinson", Sweden's answer to "Survivor", and he joins me to talk about moving here and finding home in a small town of 1500 people near Örebro - and, of course, life on the Robinson island!

In this episode, we attempt to learn from Jesus about how to have a political conversation. Jesus raises the stakes and plays chess while his opponents play checkers. Is there a way that we can use the same board and play a different game? NOTES: The episode comes from Scott's recent sermon on Matthew 22:15-22: Then the Pharisees went and plotted how to entangle him in his words. 16 And they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, "Teacher, we know that you are true and teach the way of God truthfully, and you do not care about anyone's opinion, for you are not swayed by appearances. 17 Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?" 18 But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, "Why put me to the test, you hypocrites? 19 Show me the coin for the tax." And they brought him a denarius. 20 And Jesus said to them, "Whose likeness and inscription is this?" 21 They said, "Caesar's." Then he said to them, "Therefore render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." 22 When they heard it, they marveled. And they left him and went away. RECAP/TAKEAWAYS Shrug -- Patrick Schreiner, in his book Political Gospel, describes Jesus' response to the Pharisees as a "shrug." We thought that was a good way to think of your political response. "In the shadow of Rome, their most subversive act was not to oppose Rome but to deny its principal significance...Jesus didn't seek to unseat Caesar; he willingly went to a Roman cross...Jesus was asked the most politically charged question of the day: whether Jews should be complicit to Rome by paying taxes to Ceasar. He didn't respond by flying off the rail at their abuse of power. He also didn't speak in a soft and hushed voice, fearing their authority. Instead, he subverted their power -- not by calling for a boycott, but by shrugging: "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God." We need to learn from this tactic. We are partially complicit in granting too much power to the current governmental systems by our feverish responses. By manically and incessantly speaking of them, we hand them the scepter." (p.208) Shrugging takes practice. Here are some differences between chess and checkers moves: Checkers is a move that can be described as partisan. Checkers starts by playing for America. If you play the game so America wins, even if you bring in Religion, then you are playing checkers. Chess starts by playing for the kingdom. Jesus invites you to play the same game whether you are playing in Brazil or China or America. His game has to do with his Kingdom. Checkers is complaining. Checkers is played in the news cycle. Chess emphasizes the kingdom. Chess strives to love your neighbor when the checkers game would label them an enemy. Chess seeks the city's welfare even if you are losing the culture war. Many of your chess moves are not in the realm of politics. Chess is proclaiming King Jesus and paying your taxes. GET IN TOUCH: We'd love to hear from you. Please send us an email or question at comment@cithonahillpodcast.com. MUSIC: Little Lily Swing, Tri-Tachyon, Attribution-Noncommercial 4.0 International, https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Tri-Tachyon/the-kleptotonic-ep/little-lily-swing

Tascha is bathed & dressed. Lost In Eros – book 1, Part 4 of 20 By BradentonLarry.  Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Tascha was reveling in the afterglow of several intense orgasms and the unusual feeling of being well and truly fucked. The beautiful Ilsa was hovering over her with that statuesque body; all soft, curvy and fit in just the right ways and places; kissing and licking; licking the Player's cum off Tascha's body! Tascha knew that sooner or later she would be shocked at her behavior and how much she had enjoyed every bit of it. From sucking that ridiculously big dick, to having it inside her, and then feeling all that hot, sticky cum splattering all over her body; she had loved all of it. Then there was her sudden mania for the taste of cum. When she had taken the cum from Natalia's thigh and slurped it down, she had been acting on a whim, born half of the desire to tease Don and half from curiosity spawned by seeing Ilsa and the mysterious woman in the hallway both of whom had clearly enjoyed the stuff, but she had been surprised to find that she liked it; a lot. Of course, she had tasted cum before, but it had never been particularly appealing, and at least once nasty. Don's cum, mixed with Natalia's juices, was surprisingly tasty, both salty and a little sweet. The Player's was similar, though a bit sweeter even. Plus, it felt so wonderfully decadent to scoop the stuff up off herself and enjoy its thick texture in her mouth and sliding down her throat.As she ran her hands over Ilsa's wonderful curves, Tascha also thought back to how willing she was to let the Player have his way with her. More than that, she had happily gotten to her knees for him; hardly typical behavior for her! Something about the fact that the Player had had to earn the right to her favors, in a very physical and competitive way, made it not only alright to give herself up so willingly, but even fun, as if kneeling there, sucking his cock, and fucking him were all part of the game; the most fun part of a game she had enjoyed very much. It also didn't hurt that all of the men (except Igor) had seemed focused on hitting her to the exclusion of the other women. Normally, she didn't like being pursued so directly, particularly by men, but there was something about the good-natured and open spirit of the game that had made it all OK. She had agreed to play, knowing the stakes, and had made them work very hard to win. She was glad that it was either the Player or Don who had gotten her finally, but she was sure she would have been happy to submit to whoever tagged her. Those were the rules, after all.Ilsa's sweet lips and tongue had made their way down to Tascha's lower belly, and Tascha was sure the blonde would soon move even lower. She turned her head to the side, kissed Ilsa's thigh, and parted her legs, giving the statuesque beauty complete access. Unfortunately, this idyllic moment was interrupted by a voice saying, “Ahem, excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I am to inform you that the ball will begin shortly.”The other women exclaimed their delight and Ilsa promptly stopped what she was doing and sat up on her haunches. Smiling down at Tascha, she said, “You'll love the ball!”“The ball?” Tascha asked, suddenly thinking about things other than sex.“Yes,” Ilsa nodded. She got to her feet, and leaned down to help Tascha to her feet. “We get to dress up and dance. It's wonderful fun.”“But, what about, ” Tascha started, but stopped when she felt a large warm hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the Player, who had retrieved his jacket, hat and walking stick, and was now smiling down at her.“I should tell you that the people you should ask about how you came to be here are the Lord and Lady of the Manor,” he said cheerfully. “If anyone knows, they will. And they will be at the ball.”Don had now come up to hear all of this, trailed closely by a very happy Keiko. “We might as well play along,” Don said with a shrug. “I'm beginning to have a very hard time thinking anyone means us any harm here.”“You don't think kidnapping is harm all by itself?” Tascha said. She thought her voice should sound crosser than it actually did.“Yeah,” Don nodded, “but aside from that. Anyway, if this Lord and Lady can answer our questions, we might as well give it a shot, right?”Tascha suspected Don was being seduced by all the sex. No, she knew Don was, and who could blame him? What she suspected was that she was too. It was one thing for Don to lose himself in all of this; he didn't have a girlfriend at home. The thought of Sarah produced a sharp twist in her gut. She had agreed to play the game with the Player to get back to Sarah, not to screw a man she just met. She was being seduced. She pushed these thoughts aside for now. Don had a point. No armed guards had burst in to the room to haul them off while they were playing a very loud game of dodge ball. God, that was a crazy risk to take! It really didn't seem that anyone meant them any more harm than kidnapping them and subjecting them to all kinds of sex, at least for now.“OK,” Tascha nodded. “Let's go to the ball.”“Splendid!” the Player boomed. “We'll need to get you some appropriate clothes.” Ilsa, Natalia and Keiko all clapped at this. “But first,” he grinned, “we'll all need to get cleaned up.” This provoked more clapping. The Player gestured to a door with his walking stick and said, “To the baths!”The three women led the way, with their respective dresses thrown over their arms. Tascha and Don followed after, and the Player, Peter and Igor brought up the rear.As they walked down the hallway, Tascha noticed Don looking at her sideways with a smirk on his face. She was pretty sure what he was thinking, and was positive she'd earned whatever he was thinking, but she still snapped, “What?”“You seem to be having fun,” he said cheerfully.“Oh, you should talk! How many women have you had your dick in since we got here?”“Well, that depends on whether that one time counts,” he said with a bit more smugness than Tascha thought was called for.“Let's say that it doesn't,” Tascha said sharply.“Then at least one too few,” Don said as if he was saying something no more noteworthy than, “It's a nice day out.” Then, he added, “Don't get me wrong. I'm definitely not trying to give you a hard time. I'm glad you're having fun. It's just that I'm seeing a different side of you, that's all.”“Yeah,” she said, letting herself smile a little. “I'm seeing a different side of myself, I think.”“Well, I think it suits you,” Don said.“You do?” she looked at him intently.He looked back, letting her see that he was smiling and serious, “Yes, I do.”“I was a little worried that you might, ” Tascha tried to think of the right words. “I mean that back there.”“I know what you mean,” Don smiled. “We can talk more about this later, when we have some privacy, but for now, I'll tell you, I am really loving watching you have sex. It's incredibly hot.”Tascha laughed, genuinely happy, though at the moment she couldn't say exactly why. She smiled over at Don and with a twinkle in her eye said, “Right back at ya.”Don grinned from ear to ear. He started to say something, but right then the girls led them into the baths, and he was temporarily rendered speechless.Tascha gaped as well. They were in an exceptionally large room, with several side areas and at least one chamber off to the side. Here, just inside the doorway, was apparently a drying area. There were slatted wooden benches, and piles of white, fluffy towels, as well as a few laundry bins for used towels. Tascha noticed other, larger bins off to the side, one of which received the evening dresses the other women had been wearing, as well as Peter's kilt. The Player hung his jacket and hat on a pair of hooks on the wall.Beyond this area, the party stepped into the main area, which was dominated by what looked most like an extravagant indoor pool. At the far end, a tall waterfall poured water into the pool, and at the near end a shorter, smaller waterfall drained water out. There was a lot of white noise in the big chamber, fostering an air of intimacy. There were canisters of various sorts, sizes and colors arranged here and there along the sides of the pool, as well as small stacks of what looked to be washcloths and, in a few places, loofahs. Tendrils of steam snaked across the surface of the water. Tascha was a bit surprised that there were no sex toys in evidence.To their left, was an area with a large array of overhead shower heads. A pair of dark-skinned women were there, rinsing shampoo and soap out of their hair and off their gleaming skin. To the right, was a doorway, through which steam poured. “That's the steam room,” Keiko said.“We'll leave you in the hands of the women for a bit,” the Player smiled, as he and Peter headed off toward the steam room. “Come along, Igor.”“We can play there later if you like,” Keiko said with a smile at Don.“Looks like you've made a new friend,” Tascha said under her breath.“Look who's talking,” Don chuckled, as Ilsa took Tascha by the hand and led her to the big pool.Tascha padded over the not quite smooth ceramic tiles, and then, following Ilsa and followed by Natalia, stepped down a small set of steps into the warm water. The floor of the pool dipped in the middle, so that the water was up to her neck at its deepest. Tascha noticed that she could feel a slight current carrying the water from one waterfall to the next. Ducking her head under the water, Tascha luxuriated in the sensation of the warmth washing over her. When she surfaced and opened her eyes, she saw Ilsa and Natalia nearby doing the same. Natalia had, with startling speed, let her hair down, and it now spread out around her in a deep brown circle. Ilsa, who was taller than the others, had her shoulders and the tops of her breasts glistening over the water. They looked to Tascha and gestured for her to come to them.When she had made her way through the water, she felt their arms encircle her waist and pull her to them. Natalia leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, and then Ilsa did the same, but with a bit more passion. Natalia then took another turn, and this time, Tascha felt the other woman's tongue slip into her mouth. Ilsa's next kiss was longer and deeper, and Natalia took the opportunity to lean in and kiss the side of Tascha's neck. Tascha heard a low moan, and was only a little surprised to realize it had come from her. She felt fingers playfully moving up the inside of her thigh, and suspected they were Natalia's. Those fingers found their way to Tascha's lips and began to stroke and tease them under the water. Lost in kissing Ilsa, having Natalia kiss and nibble on her neck, and being pleasured by someone's fingertips, Tascha hardly even noticed when two of those fingers stole between her lips and slipped up inside her pussy. Another moan came from her throat.Tascha noticed then that she wasn't at all sore from earlier. The Player's cock had easily been the largest thing she'd ever had inside her, and, although it had required some effort to get it into her, it had not really hurt. She thought at the time that there would be hell to pay later, but on the contrary, she felt no discomfort at all. Instead, all she felt was pleasure from the fingers that were making mischief beneath the water.Ilsa and Natalia began to slowly move the unresisting Tascha toward the side of the pool. When they were close enough to the edge, Tascha broke her long kiss with Ilsa to lower her face to the woman's breasts. She kissed her way down Ilsa's left tit until she got to the big nipple, and then sucked it into her mouth. Ilsa's hand came up behind her head, to hold Tascha in place. Tascha continued to suck and pull at that nipple, while she managed to get her arms inside the little triangle they had made between themselves. Once this was done, she reached down and found both Ilsa's and Natalia's crotches, and began to tease both of them by stroking and pulling at their lips. She pinched their clits, and slipped her fingers up between their lips and into their pussies. Although she had always been rather ambidextrous, she had never tried doing anything quite like this with both hands at the same time. Tascha noticed that Natalia now had her mouth on Ilsa's other nipple, and was sucking it hard. Ilsa's other hand was holding Natalia to that tit as well, so Tascha now knew for sure that it was Natalia who was stimulating her down below.This continued for several long minutes before Tascha felt the unmistakable tension building. She relaxed and let the orgasm wash over her. Sighing around Ilsa's nipple, Tascha trembled in the water, but continued to play with the other girls. In seconds they joined her in a quiet little knot of ecstasy. When it was over, Tascha released Ilsa's nipple and rested her head against that soft bosom. Natalia leaned in and kissed her forehead and then her lips. This kiss lingered, and soon Tascha was kissing Natalia with more passion. Though Tascha had withdrawn her fingers from the others, Natalia's were still deep inside Tascha, and Natalia began to flex her wrist, fucking those fingers slowly in and out of Tascha.Ilsa said, “Now, now, there'll be plenty of time for that later. We should really get washed up.”Both Tascha and Natalia made disappointed noises, but moved with Ilsa over to the side of the pool. Ilsa took a bottle labeled “SHAMPOO” and began to work some of its contents into Tascha's hair. It smelled like honey and strawberries. Meanwhile, Natalia took a bottle of “SOAP” and a washcloth and began to wash the rest of Tascha's upper body. She was very thorough and, naturally enough, soon Natalia was pushing two of her fingers back up into Tascha who smiled her approval. Natalia began to work her fingers in and out, which felt very good to Tascha.Catching on, Ilsa tisked her disapproval and pushed Tascha down under the water to get some of the shampoo out of her hair. By the time Tascha bobbed back up, Natalia had removed her mischievous fingers. The two women lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the pool, so that they could wash her legs and privates a bit more seriously.While this was going on, Tascha looked around and saw that Don was busy washing Keiko's black hair. Somehow, this seemed odd to Tascha. She had seen Don do a lot of things, particularly today, and she could now imagine him doing a lot more, but not simply washing a woman's hair for her. Sure, at a hair salon someone you didn't even know would wash your hair and there was nothing more to it. Here in this tub, where they were all naked, and when they had all shared various degrees of sexual contact, there was, of course, a sharply increased level of intimacy. But there was something,  loving about what Don was doing. Watching him made Tascha smile.Then she was brought back to matters closer to hand, when Ilsa and Natalia produced shaving cream and razors. They promptly and efficiently shaved her legs, and then Ilsa suggested she lay back and spread her legs so they could finish the job. Taken a little aback, she did as suggested, and felt them removing the hair from around her pussy.Natalia leaned up over her and asked, “Do you want to keep the bush? It's cute, but we can get rid of it if you like.”“Um,” Tascha paused. She had noticed that almost all the women she'd seen here were shaved bare. The woman on the bed they had seen through the last hidden window had not, and there were at least three women she'd seen but not been able to notice the state of their pubic hair. Still, the norm seemed to be bare here, and it felt a little like surrendering to the whole situation to have them shave her bald. On the other, she had never done that before, and she was intrigued. “Sure,” she said, “shave it off.”In another moment the deed was done and the two girls each gave Tascha's naked pussy a quick kiss. Then they pulled her into the pool and dunked her under again. When she came up, it was her turn to help the other two clean. There was a great deal of playfulness involved, but the whole process seemed to go rather quickly. It was helped by the fact that neither of them needed to be shaved; they were both silky smooth all over.When Natalia bent over the edge of the pool, and Ilsa parted her butt cheeks to push a couple of soapy fingers into her rectum, Tascha gasped a little. She had not seen that coming. Ilsa smiled at Tascha, and Natalia responded by wiggling her butt in a decidedly non-protesting way. Natalia even said, “Um, we forgot to do Tascha's ass.”“Oh, well, that's alright,” Tascha said hurriedly.“Don't be silly,” Ilsa said as she took her fingers out of her friend's butt and rinsed them in the water flowing past. “Hop on up.”“That's really not necessary,” Tascha said, feeling her cheeks blushing.Natalia slipped back into the water, and agreed with Ilsa, “Come on, get up there.”Tascha looked around to make sure that Don hadn't somehow gotten closer, then took a deep breath and hopped up to lean out over the edge of the pool. In another moment she felt a pair of hands spread her cheeks, and heard Natalia say, “You've got the cutest butt.”Tascha was about to say, “Thank you, yours is very nice too,” but right then she felt Ilsa's slippery fingers pushing against her asshole. She knew enough to relax, and did her best to do so. Then Ilsa's fingers were pushed up inside her, filling her in a completely different way than she was used to. The fingers pushed in and out a little and twisted. Tascha was surprised at how good it felt. And then they were out. Natalia let go of her cheeks, and slapped one for good measure. Tascha slipped back into the water, strangely embarrassed and excited. When it was Ilsa's turn, Tascha watched with interest as Natalia fingering her ass. Ilsa also squirmed happily while she was being cleaned.They were finishing washing Ilsa, lingering over her breasts, when they were distracted by sounds from Don and Keiko's area of the pool. Tascha was actually surprised that she'd been paying so little attention to what was going on over there. She had caught glimpses which had included some making out and at one point recently Don sitting on the side of the pool while Keiko's head bobbed up and down in his lap, but Tascha had her own partners to pay attention to so she had concentrated on Ilsa and Natalia.Now, though, Keiko was making loud appreciative noises, that carried even through the white noise of the waterfalls. She was sitting on the edge of the pool, leaning back while Don was in the water between her legs, apparently going down on her. While they watched, Keiko shifted her weight to one arm so she could reach down with the other to hold Don's face tighter to her.“That looks like fun,” Natalia said. “I'm going to go have a look.” She ducked under the water and swam quickly across the pool, pulling herself up to sit next to Keiko, where she openly watched.Tascha found herself torn between the beautiful woman who had her breasts in Tascha's hands, and the urge to watch what was going on at the other side of the pool. Ilsa noticed this, and laughed, “Let's go join them.”As they turned to cross the pool, Keiko cried out and threw her head back as her body was wracked by an intense orgasm. This went on for what seemed like a full minute, during which time Don seemed to continue pleasuring her. Finally, Keiko collapsed backward, laughing and pushing Don away with her feet.Tascha and Ilsa were pulling themselves out of the water in time to hear Natalia say, “That looked wonderful, can you do it again?”Don grinned up at her and licked his lips, “I'd love to try.”Natalia scooted forward until she was sitting on the lip of the pool and parted her legs for Don. He moved over to between her thighs. He paused a moment to kiss the insides of her thighs, working his way up the left until he kissed the lips of her pussy, and then stopping to repeat the process for her right leg.Tascha sat down next to Natalia, completely open about the fact that she intended to watch. Don looked up at her and smiled, just before he leaned in to run his tongue over Natalia's lips. Ilsa sat down on the far side of Keiko, who was still sprawled on the tiles, her feet floating in the water. The Player, Peter and Igor came back from the steam room and plunged into the pool upstream.Tascha ignored everything else, and watched as Don parted Natalia's lips with his tongue and ran it slowly up and down her slit. He brought up two fingers to hold her outer lips apart while his tongue continued to move leisurely up and down between them. He pressed his mouth to her.Natalia shuddered and said, “Yes, fuck me with your tongue.”But Don pulled back to lick up to her clit, which he toyed with briefly, before gently sucking it into his mouth. This provoked another shudder from Natalia. Don then moved back to push his tongue deep into Natalia's vagina. He seemed to be working that tongue in and out of her a few times, and Natalia was rocking herself against him. Tascha noticed that Don's nose was rubbing against Natalia's clit during this. Tascha found that she had moved her own left hand between her legs and was stroking her own newly shaved pussy, it felt smooth and tender to the touch.On the other side of Natalia, Ilsa had bent over Keiko to make out with her and to suck on the Asian girl's nipples, but Tascha was intent upon watching Don at work.Don had now pushed two fingers slowly up into Natalia, and shifted the attention of his lips and tongue to her clit. He had started out slow and gentle, but was gradually increasing the pressure, and more gradually building up the tempo. Tascha could see his wrist moving as he worked his fingers in and out of her.Natalia turned to look at Tascha through half closed eyes, and said, “Oh, he's very good at this.”Tascha smiled, and noticed that she was now slowly stroking her own clit. She looked back at Natalia and reached across with her right hand to cup the woman's right breast in her hand. She took the nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched. Natalia shuddered, and said, “Yes, harder.”Don raised his eyes, saw what was going on, and then continued with what he was doing. Tascha, however, pinched Natalia's nipple harder, twisting it a little. Giving up on playing with herself, she leaned on her left arm to reach across to get a hold of Natalia's left nipple, which she promptly pinched very hard. This elicited a “God yes!” from Natalia.Tascha looked down to see that Don had brought his other hand up, and seemed to be working a finger into Natalia's butt. Oh, I'll bet she likes that, Tascha thought. Sure enough, Natalia responded with a happy groan and continued to rock her pelvis against Don's mouth and fingers.Tascha twisted Natalia's left nipple again, and leaned down to suck on her right. Tascha deliberately sucked very hard, and raked her teeth over the rigid nipple, and then went so far as to actually bite it a little.“Oh god yes!” Natalia yelled. “Yes!” Her body shook and clenched as she came intensely. Tascha looked down to see that, though he held his fingers still, pushed deep inside Natalia, Don was still, slowly but firmly tonguing her clit. This seemed to push Natalia into several connected and very intense orgasms.Only when this had gone on for what felt like some time, did Don lessen the pressure with his tongue and slowly pull his fingers away from Natalia. Natalia stayed there for a moment, trembling all over, then said, “Damn!” and slowly collapsed back on the tiles.“Wow!” Tascha breathed. Then she looked at Don and said, “My turn.”Don grinned broadly, and moved over in front of her. Tascha spread her legs for him, and he moved up close. She could feel his breath on her rather moist outer lips. He leaned in a bit more and kissed her very lightly. A shudder passed through her in anticipation.Then a familiar hand on her shoulder interrupted the moment. The Player leaned in and with a smile said, “Before you get started, we should really get ready for the ball.”“Really? Right now?” Tascha asked, exasperated.“Well, we still have to visit the wardrobe,” the Player laughed.Tascha looked down at Don, who had already backed away from her a bit. He smiled and said, “Don't worry; you know I'm happy to give you a rain check.”Tascha kicked water at Don, which only made him laugh. Then she accepted the Player's hand to help her up from the rim of the pool.The whole group made their way into the rinsing showers, where there was naturally more playful touching, though no one started anything serious. Everyone seemed to be hurrying to get on to the next big event. Tascha was happy to find that the water that poured down over her was warm. For some reason she had been worried that it would be cold after the warmth of the bath.Once everyone had rinsed off any remaining soap and shampoo, they hurried out to towel each other off. Tascha found herself between Don and Ilsa, who seemed to be enjoying drying off any part of her body they could get to. Since coming into the baths, Tascha had gotten worked back up to a serious level of arousal, and this playful man (and woman) handling was only making things worse.When they were all dry enough, the towels were tossed into the appropriate bins, and Keiko and Natalia led the way into the hallway and just a short distance to the left, where they opened the door to a sedate little sitting room. On either side of this antechamber were doors. The Player, Peter, Don and Igor headed off through the door on the left, while Ilsa, Natalia and Keiko led Tascha through the one on the right.As she stepped into this new room, Tascha drew up short. What she saw was an enormous room with row upon row of racks of women's clothing. Natalia and Keiko disappeared almost at once, while Ilsa took Tascha by the hand and led her down the third aisle. Without any hesitation, Ilsa found the particular rack of clothes she wanted, considered her options for a moment, then took something off the rack, and handed it to Tascha.“Try this one,” Ilsa said simply.Tascha held the hanger up and considered the offering skeptically. Shrugging to herself, she looked around for any sign of a dressing room, and then remembered she was already stark naked. She laughed a little and began to put on the garment Ilsa had given her. Tascha thought at first that something must be missing, but then started to doubt that. The standards of dress here were certainly different.Meanwhile, Ilsa had moved down the aisle a little, found what she was looking for and handed it to Tascha. She paused long enough to deal with the zipper Tascha couldn't reach, and then headed off in another direction, while Tascha struggled into the new items Ilsa had brought.By the time, Tascha thought that she had the things she'd been given on properly, Keiko appeared and handed her a couple of items including a G-string. When Keiko disappeared again, which happened very quickly, Tascha went ahead and sniffed the undergarment, and was relieved that it smelled freshly laundered. Before she could put the G-string or any of the other items Keiko had brought, Natalia turned up with a pair of shoes. When Tascha got to try them on, she was amazed to find that they fit perfectly.She thought she was finished, and looked around for a mirror, but before she could locate one, Ilsa returned wearing a sky blue gown that somehow held up her large breasts, though it only came up far enough to cover her nipples, and not all of her large aureoles. Her arms, shoulders and neck were completely bare, and, when Ilsa turned around to show it off, her back was also bare down to the top of her behind. The fabric of the dress had a silvery sheen that played up the curves of her body.“It's very pretty!” Tascha said appreciatively.“Let me look at you,” Ilsa said, as she stalked quickly around Tascha, and then announced, “Perfect!”Natalia and Keiko turned up then, and added their own votes of approval. Natalia was wearing a deep green bodice, with a dark red skirt that (as Natalia demonstrated) tore away easily to reveal a garter belt and black stocking, with no G-string or anything else covering her privates. Keiko was staying true to form and wore a black, form-fitting geisha dress, with very long slits running up both sides, showing her legs to good advantage, as well as the black stockings and stiletto heels she was wearing.“Is there a mirror?” Tascha finally got to ask.“Oh, yes,” Ilsa said, “but first, let's get your hair done a bit.”“My hair?” Tascha asked with some concern.“Don't worry, my dear,” Natalia said, “nothing drastic.”“Or time consuming,” Keiko put in.“Right,” Ilsa agreed. Then they bustled Tascha off to a room far to one side of the big room, where a pair of incredibly efficient and strangely impersonal male hairdressers quickly brushed Tascha's hair and added mousse, styling it without cutting it, in a matter of minutes. In the same time, another pair returned Natalia's long hair to a stylishly coifed pile on top of her head.“Thanks boys!” Ilsa said as she yanked Tascha out of her chair and back into the big room, where she and Keiko had found and wheeled over a large full length mirror. There Tascha saw herself with her hair seemingly windblown but very fetching. Around her neck she wore a simple black choker, and on her arms a pair of black gloves that came up to the middle of her upper arms. She had on a sexy pair of high heels with straps that laced up her calves. There was no way she was going to get those off in a hurry. The gown she wore began with a sort of bodice that seemed to be made of a kind of spandex. It fit her torso snugly and flatteringly, but enabled her to move and bend freely. However it came just up to under her breasts and stopped. In fact the top edge of it was curved as if it was cut specifically for Tascha. The skirt, which was long enough to brush the floor, started at her hips, but only wrapped around incompletely, so that the very front was open to view. Anyone could easily see the fine fish-net stockings and satin black G-string she was wearing. Both the skirt and top were of deep violet. Tascha had feared she would look ridiculous, but now saw that she was quite striking, particularly with her breasts standing out proudly in front of her. If the girls thought it was acceptable, she was willing to give it a shot.She smiled at her three new friends and said, “Thank you very much.”“Oh, wait!” Keiko said. She disappeared into the hairdressers' room and reappeared in a moment. With deft motions and utter assurance, she applied lipstick, a bit of eye-shadow, and some blush to Tascha's face. The lipstick was a burgundy, and the eye-shadow made Tascha look a bit exotic, while the rest was quite subtle but effective.“OK, now we can go,” Keiko announced.Arm-in-arm the four women proceeded back to the entry foyer, where the four men were waiting. The Player was wearing his red jacket and hat, but had added a golden-yellow vest and a pair of white breeches that were missing the crotch, so that his cock and balls were freely exposed, as well as a pair of black boots that came to the top of his calves. Peter was wearing another kilt; a black one; and a white jacket that was buttoned all the way up and had a Nehru collar. Igor was still naked. Don was wearing an open, deep blue long coat, a red vest, and boots and breeches just like the Player's.When the women entered the room, the Player bowed low, Peter clapped, and Don just gaped at Tascha. Seeing that she was looking at him with an amused expression, he remembered his manners and said, “Wow! You look amazing!”Tascha gave him a small curtsy, and laughingly added, “I can see you mean that.”Don glanced down to see that his cock was rapidly coming back to life while he was ogling Tascha. “Well, I certainly do mean it,” he smiled, actually blushing a little.“Very well then, ladies and gentlemen,” the Player said as he put on his hat and took up his cane. “Off to the ball we go!”To be continued in The Ball, Part ABy BradentonLarry for Literotica

In game one of the 1992 finals, Michael Jordan put together one of the greatest 3-point shooting performances of his career and hit the most iconic shrug of all time. NBA Twitter Legend and host of the Trill Withers Show, Trill Withers re-joins the pod to discuss if MJ's shrug is worthy of the First Ballot Hall of Fame, the conspiracy behind NBA fines, and the beauty of 90s era basketball.  Timecodes: (05:48) Stromile Swift Dunk on Tyrus Thomas (09:15) Working with Rasheed Wallace (10:33) The Conspiracy of NBA Fines (15:09) Shrugging in Sports (18:15) The presentation of 90s Basketball (29:40) "You remember the shrug though"  (33:55) A KD Green-light (48:09) "I took offense to that" -MJ (57:14) The authenticity of the shrug (58:10) Ahmad Rashad the GOAT of sideline reporting (01:01:00) George Koehler's life-changing phone call (01:02:53) MJ's McDonald's Order (01:04:13) The James Jordan Ad Read (01:10:25) Trill's Favorite 90s TV Show

Retail sales rose 0.3% in November; Fed officials signal likely rate cuts in 2024; import prices declined 0.4% in November; initial jobless claims fell to 202,000.

Retail sales rose 0.3% in November; Fed officials signal likely rate cuts in 2024; import prices declined 0.4% in November; initial jobless claims fell to 202,000.

Rep. Pramila Jayapal explains that she won't condemn Hamas' mass rape too much for the sake of balance; Iranian-backed forces attack American ships; and the Pope is fighting against fossil fuels again. Click here to join the member exclusive portion of my show: https://utm.io/ueSEj Ep.1861 - - -  DailyWire+: Become a DailyWire+ member to gain access to movies, shows, documentaries, and more: https://utm.io/ueMfc Watch the official Lady Ballers movie trailer now: https://bit.ly/3R1dM5b Get your Ben Shapiro Polo here: https://bit.ly/3TAu2cw  - - -  Today's Sponsors: ExpressVPN - Get 3 Months FREE of ExpressVPN: https://expressvpn.com/ben PrizePicks - Use code "BEN" to receive a 100% instant deposit match up to $100: https://prizepicks.com/Ben  Genucel - Exclusive discounts for my listeners! https://genucel.com/Shapiro  Christian Care Ministries - Get a $150 gift card when you join Medi-Share at http://www.medishare.com/Ben  *To receive the $150 gift card Application and all Form Center documents must be completed and First Month's Share must be paid by Dec 31th, 2023 at 9:00 PM EST. ZipRecruiter - Try ZipRecruiter for FREE: https://www.ziprecruiter.com/dailywire - - - Socials: Follow on Twitter: https://bit.ly/3cXUn53 Follow on Instagram: https://bit.ly/3QtuibJ Follow on Facebook: https://bit.ly/3TTirqd Subscribe on YouTube: https://bit.ly/3RPyBiB

Another discussion with an abortion advocate on X! Shrugging off ad hominems, I pressed him to provide an absolute standard that can distinguish "medicine" from "murder." Eventually, he was kind enough to provide a theory from an article. This is the "brain-life" theory for when human life functionally begins. The article was from neuroscientist Dr. Michael Gazzaniga. He acknowledges that human life begins biologically at conception, but his practice leads him to believe bioethics can't realistically begin for a human until at least six months gestation. I walk through some statements in this article that try to build an ethical case for human life beginning around week 24, when the human brain starts working in the way we might determine death occurs when it stops working. I contend in all this that an absolute standard (from the God of the Bible) is necessary to distinguish "medicine" from "murder." Sources Referenced: Michael S. Gazzaniga, "The Thoughtful Distinction Between Embryo and Human," Chronicle of Higher Education 51, no. 31 (2005): B10-2. John M. Goldenring, "Humanity Begins With a Functioning Brain," The Washington Post, September, 16, 1986. Hannah Echols, "UAB Hospital delivers record-breaking premature baby," University of Alabama News, November 10, 2021. Paula Newton, "Canadian siblings born four months early set record as the world's most premature twins," CNN, Updated March 19, 2023. Sahih al-Bukhari 3208 Augustine of Hippo, "Chapter 86. If They Have Ever Lived, They Must of Course Have Died, and Therefore Shall Have a Share in the Resurrection of the Dead." in The Handbook on Faith, Hope and Love. Scriptures Referenced: Genesis 9:6 Proverbs 3:5 John 17:17 See also: Truthspresso episode 0012: Abortion Fiction: Part 2 - The Pro-Life Bible and Early Church Truthspresso episode 0055: Shutting Down the Pro-Life Position? *** Castle Rock Women's Health is a pro-life and pro-women health care ministry. They need your help to serve the community. Please consider a monthly or one-time donation. *** We value your feedback! Have questions for Truthspresso? Contact us!

Another discussion with an abortion advocate on X!Shrugging off ad hominems, I pressed him to provide an absolute standard that can distinguish "medicine" from "murder."Eventually, he was kind enough to provide a theory from an article. This is the "brain-life" theory for when human life functionally begins. The article was from neuroscientist Dr. Michael Gazzaniga. He acknowledges that human life begins biologically at conception, but his practice leads him to believe bioethics can't realistically begin for a human until at least six months gestation.I walk through some statements in this article that try to build an ethical case for human life beginning around week 24, when the human brain starts working in the way we might determine death occurs when it stops working.I contend in all this that an absolute standard (from the God of the Bible) is necessary to distinguish "medicine" from "murder."Sources Referenced:Michael S. Gazzaniga, "The Thoughtful Distinction Between Embryo and Human," Chronicle of Higher Education 51, no. 31 (2005): B10-2.John M. Goldenring, "Humanity Begins With a Functioning Brain," The Washington Post, September, 16, 1986.Hannah Echols, "UAB Hospital delivers record-breaking premature baby," University of Alabama News, November 10, 2021.Paula Newton, "Canadian siblings born four months early set record as the world's most premature twins," CNN, Updated March 19, 2023.Sahih al-Bukhari 3208Augustine of Hippo, "Chapter 86. If They Have Ever Lived, They Must of Course Have Died, and Therefore Shall Have a Share in the Resurrection of the Dead." in The Handbook on Faith, Hope and Love.Scriptures Referenced:Genesis 9:6Proverbs 3:5John 17:17See also:Truthspresso episode 0012: Abortion Fiction: Part 2 - The Pro-Life Bible and Early ChurchTruthspresso episode 0055: Shutting Down the Pro-Life Position?*** Castle Rock Women's Health is a pro-life and pro-women health care ministry. They need your help to serve the community. Please consider a monthly or one-time donation. ***We value your feedback!Have questions for Truthspresso? Contact us!

Another discussion with an abortion advocate on X!Shrugging off ad hominems, I pressed him to provide an absolute standard that can distinguish "medicine" from "murder."Eventually, he was kind enough to provide a theory from an article. This is the "brain-life" theory for when human life functionally begins. The article was from neuroscientist Dr. Michael Gazzaniga. He acknowledges that human life begins biologically at conception, but his practice leads him to believe bioethics can't realistically begin for a human until at least six months gestation.I walk through some statements in this article that try to build an ethical case for human life beginning around week 24, when the human brain starts working in the way we might determine death occurs when it stops working.I contend in all this that an absolute standard (from the God of the Bible) is necessary to distinguish "medicine" from "murder."Sources Referenced:Michael S. Gazzaniga, "The Thoughtful Distinction Between Embryo and Human," Chronicle of Higher Education 51, no. 31 (2005): B10-2.John M. Goldenring, "Humanity Begins With a Functioning Brain," The Washington Post, September, 16, 1986.Hannah Echols, "UAB Hospital delivers record-breaking premature baby," University of Alabama News, November 10, 2021.Paula Newton, "Canadian siblings born four months early set record as the world's most premature twins," CNN, Updated March 19, 2023.Sahih al-Bukhari 3208Augustine of Hippo, "Chapter 86. If They Have Ever Lived, They Must of Course Have Died, and Therefore Shall Have a Share in the Resurrection of the Dead." in The Handbook on Faith, Hope and Love.Scriptures Referenced:Genesis 9:6Proverbs 3:5John 17:17See also:Truthspresso episode 0012: Abortion Fiction: Part 2 - The Pro-Life Bible and Early ChurchTruthspresso episode 0055: Shutting Down the Pro-Life Position?*** Castle Rock Women's Health is a pro-life and pro-women health care ministry. They need your help to serve the community. Please consider a monthly or one-time donation. ***We value your feedback!Have questions for Truthspresso? Contact us!

In this special episode, John welcomes back to the pew his close friend Fr. Malachy Joseph Napier, CFR. In recent weeks, both Fr Malachy and John have struggled with the same issue: believing that they have to do it all themselves. Listen in this week to hear how on two separate journeys, both men were brought back to the truth of who God is and what he wants for us. God delights in us and desires for us to slow down, rest in Him, and to remember that we don't have to have it all figured out. So get off of that spinning merry go round and take time to play with the Father. In this episode John and Fr. Malachy discuss: - Shrugging of the lies of the world and the unnecessary pressures we place on ourselves - The Father's delight in us - How the Father's love helps us to love those around us - The Franciscan Friars of the Renewal: www.Franciscanfriars.com BECOME A PARTNER IN THE PEW www.donorbox.org/pew START A MEN'S GROUP IN YOUR PARISH! www.justaguyinthepew.com DOWNLOADS Get a copy of my new eBook, “12 Ways Guys Can Get Closer to Jesus”! JUSTAGUYINTHEPEW.COM/EBOOK JOIN US ON A PILGRIMAGE TO ITALY! rb.gy/ue800

I tried to type this word but Smiley has gotten soft in his old age and asked me to bleep it out for him. Shrugging emoji.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Should you throw in the friendship towel after a feckless frottage foul with someone's significant other? Can you make it right? Welcome to Feedback Friday! And in case you didn't already know it, Jordan Harbinger (@JordanHarbinger) and Gabriel Mizrahi (@GabeMizrahi) banter and take your comments and questions for Feedback Friday right here every week! If you want us to answer your question, register your feedback, or tell your story on one of our upcoming weekly Feedback Friday episodes, drop us a line at friday@jordanharbinger.com. Now let's dive in! On This Week's Feedback Friday, We Discuss: Should you throw in the friendship towel after a feckless frottage foul with someone's significant other, or can you make it right? Shrugging your shoulders and quipping, "At least it's a dry cheat" is probably not your best option. As parents, you've been bearing the burden of your adult daughter's bad choices in education, employment, and financial responsibilities, but she hasn't always been so reckless. What's changed, and how can you help her regain her footing when she doesn't even seem to want to help herself? You love to travel, but struggle to sleep away from your own bed due to persistent insomnia or hypersensitivity. You've experimented with all the common remedies to no avail, but what's left to try? [This segment is sponsored by BetterHelp. Big thanks to Haesue Jo, Head of Clinical Operations at BetterHelp!] How do you gently nudge your 70-year-old parents away from offering body-shaming commentary that was more socially acceptable in their youth (and was instrumental in the negative way you felt about yourself in yours)? Though life in your hometown is what many would consider idyllic, you can't shake the feeling that you've missed out on experiencing what it would be like to live elsewhere. How can you explore your options without upending the quality of life your family currently enjoys? Have any questions, comments, or stories you'd like to share with us? Drop us a line at friday@jordanharbinger.com! Connect with Jordan on Twitter at @JordanHarbinger and Instagram at @jordanharbinger. Connect with Gabriel on Twitter at @GabeMizrahi and Instagram @gabrielmizrahi. Full show notes and resources can be found here: jordanharbinger.com/897 This Episode Is Brought To You By Our Fine Sponsors: jordanharbinger.com/deals Sign up for Six-Minute...

Zack Budryk, a staff writer at The Hill, joins Lisa Dent to talk about his latest article that questions why the 11 major GOP candidates running for president seem to be ignoring the nation’s record heatwave. Follow The Lisa Dent Show on Twitter:Follow @LisaDentSpeaksFollow @SteveBertrand Follow @kpowell720 Follow @maryvandeveldeFollow @LaurenLapka

Atlas Shrugging in Norway: The Consequences of Wealth Tax with Jon Miltimore. In this episode Michael Leibowitz, he is joined by Jon Miltimore, the managing editor for FEE.org and a prominent writer featured in Time Magazine and The Wall Street Journal. Together, they delve into the intriguing topic of whether Atlas is shrugging in Norway, exploring the unintended consequences of the country's implementation of a wealth tax. The discussion centers around Norway's decision to introduce a wealth tax, which ultimately led to billionaires leaving the country and resulted in decreased tax revenue for the government. The wealth tax targeted not just income but also assets and savings, affecting individuals even when they were not actively generating income. Miltimore and Leibowitz examine the underlying motivations behind this tax, highlighting the insatiable nature of governments in socialist countries, where no amount of money ever seems to be enough. Drawing on historical examples, such as people leaving communist countries and parts of Europe, the conversation connects these instances to Ayn Rand's famous novel, "Atlas Shrugged." The hosts explore how individuals throughout history have chosen to shrug, or withdraw their productive efforts, in response to oppressive government policies. They also touch upon the founding principles of the United States, emphasising the shift towards a system that plunders producers to support non-producers.Expanding the scope of the conversation, Miltimore and Leibowitz discuss the growing trend of government interference in areas beyond its intended role. They highlight the outsourcing of censorship to private companies and the dangers of overreach in limiting free speech. The hosts argue that the question of how to make lives better through government intervention is fundamentally flawed and has historically resulted in disaster. Instead, they assert that the proper role of government is to defend individual rights, not to engage in wealth redistribution or excessive meddling. Michael Leibowitz is a renowned philosopher, political activist, and the esteemed host of the Rational Egoist podcast. With a profound admiration for the philosopher Ayn Rand, Leibowitz passionately champions the principles of reason, rational self-interest, and individualism. As a dedicated advocate, Leibowitz's influence extends beyond his podcasting endeavours. Engaging in lively political debates, he fearlessly advocates for the protection of individual rights and freedoms through compelling YouTube videos and insightful interviews.Leibowitz's own life narrative exemplifies the transformative power of Ayn Rand's writings. Despite enduring a challenging past that led to a 25-year prison sentence, he emerged from adversity by embracing the tenets of rational self-interest and moral philosophy put forth by Ayn Rand. His personal journey has propelled him to become an influential figure in the libertarian and Objectivist communities, empowering others to embrace reason, individualism, and self-interest in their own lives.Beyond his philosophical and political pursuits, Leibowitz has co-authored the thought-provoking book, "Down the Rabbit Hole: How the Culture of Correction Encourages Crime." This groundbreaking work delves into the societal attitudes surrounding punishment and rehabilitation, shedding light on how misguided approaches have contributed to the rise of crime and recidivism.Leibowitz's expertise extends to the airwaves, as he is a regular guest on the esteemed Todd Feinburg show at WTIC. His expert commentary provides invaluable insights on a wide range of political and social issues, captivating audiences with his profound intellect and deep understanding of the human condition.Join Michael Leibowitz on his intellectual journey as he advocates for reason, individualism, and the pursuit of self-interest, inspiring others to embrace a philosophy that empowers and uplifts the human spirit.

Dang dang dang.... if it isn't a guest and a title that brings us right back to where it all began. We could think of no better way to ring in episode 300 than with Off Book legend/podcast hero/hilarious wonderful man Paul F. Tompkins! Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who has listened to and supported this show over the last 300 episodes. Whether you've been with us from the beginning or found us recently, you've been the most wonderful community anyone could hope for. We can't wait to get started on what comes next, but for now, please enjoy... Shrugging Jeopardy!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

It's Roman but it's no holiday - the Italian Open follows hot on the heels of two weeks in Madrid, and while the grind of the clay-court swing may have caught up with some players, James, George and Calvin are still clinging onto their motivation. This week, the tennis podcast that does not hold back talks about... Rafael Nadal was spotted doubled over in pain during practice - are the pod starting to think he is now OUT of Roland Garros? (https://twitter.com/vanshv2k/status/1656760340133343232) Novak Djokovic has returned and got some wins under his belt: how do we think he's looking? Is one good tournament here enough to convince us he's the favourite for Roland Garros? And what about that elbow? Holger Rune was booed ONTO court. We ask Calvin whether he was hiding in the crowd... (https://twitter.com/TheTennisLetter/status/1657725318969593857) Sofia Kenin is... back? Coco Gauff is out early again. A French Open finalist last year but does anyone believe that is realistic again? that feel a world away this time?  Emma Raducanu famously ditched her coach Andrew Richardson just days after she won the US Open, but the man known as "Flex" has never spoken publicly about why - until now. (Read the full interview here: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/tennis/article-12083065/I-got-brief-phone-call-Andrew-Richardson-opens-split-Emma-Raducanu.html) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's Roman but it's no holiday - the Italian Open follows hot on the heels of two weeks in Madrid, and while the grind of the clay-court swing may have caught up with some players, James, George and Calvin are still clinging onto their motivation. This week, the tennis podcast that does not hold back talks about... Rafael Nadal was spotted doubled over in pain during practice - are the pod starting to think he is now OUT of Roland Garros? (https://twitter.com/vanshv2k/status/1656760340133343232) Novak Djokovic has returned and got some wins under his belt: how do we think he's looking? Is one good tournament here enough to convince us he's the favourite for Roland Garros? And what about that elbow? Holger Rune was booed ONTO court. We ask Calvin whether he was hiding in the crowd... (https://twitter.com/TheTennisLetter/status/1657725318969593857) Sofia Kenin is... back? Coco Gauff is out early again. A French Open finalist last year but does anyone believe that is realistic again? that feel a world away this time?  Emma Raducanu famously ditched her coach Andrew Richardson just days after she won the US Open, but the man known as "Flex" has never spoken publicly about why - until now. (Read the full interview here: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/tennis/article-12083065/I-got-brief-phone-call-Andrew-Richardson-opens-split-Emma-Raducanu.html) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Some in the media learned the lessons of Cyclone Gabrielle and the Auckland Anniversary Weekend floods, just as the emergency management authorities have done - and they made a concerted effort to take this week's weather warnings seriously. Others, not so much.

↫Story↬ (Story written by me! For more stories like these, check me out on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Kaila_Falcon) «»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«» Thunderstorms. They never used to bother you, but these days, nothing in your life seemed to be the way it once was. Heck, you'd finally gotten the shot at getting one step closer to your dream of flying, being stationed at Quonset Point, back in your home state of Rhode Island. It had come as a surprise and a relief; it was good to be back in familiar territory. Shrugging that thought aside, you jump slightly as another rumble of thunder rolls through your trembling figure, the newspaper you'd been flipping through previously being set aside. He'd said he'd be quick - wanting to do one last final gear check before tomorrow. And then… footsteps. You hadn't even heard him come in. But yet, the ever increasingly familiar figure of Tom Hudner is making his way towards you, a tired grin being passed your way, illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp at your bedside. A wordless exchange is made with your mingling gazes as he silently bundles a set of sleep clothes in his arms and disappears, reappearing moments later and joining you at your side, his weight and warmth a welcome sensation that sets you at ease slightly. “Y'know, after all this time, you never once told me how you managed to end up here, of all places,” You muse softly, rolling onto your side to face him, a humored yet bittersweet look in his gaze that quickly holds yours. “I applied to the Academy right after Pearl Harbor, I wanted to help, as we all did. But yeah, show up to find the heroes were made, the fleet's mothballed…” Tom trails off, huffing a light chuckle. “The war ended a month before I graduated.” Now it's your turn to laugh softly, inching closer to his handsome features. “Surely your family is happy you didn't go,” You suggest to which the man at your side merely offers a small smile. “I heard they're around here?” “Across the Bay in Fall River.” “They must be happy - having you back around and all.” At this, Tom shakes his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “I think they'd be a bit happier if I were coming back to work for the family. Supposed to take over my old man's grocery stores… But I was called to adventure.” There's a certain excited glimmer in his gaze as he reaches for you, pulling you close. And you don't argue, melting into his strong embrace, a certain unknown fear nagging at you - and not about the weather. “You land that plane in one piece tomorrow, okay?” Tom Hudner nods wordlessly, pressing a tender kiss against your forehead before settling back against the mattress, a soft “okay,” falling from his lips. And as the storm continues to rage outside, you somehow feel a sense of ease fill you as you carefully pry yourself from your boyfriend's arms, making your way to your feet and towards the radio, tuning it and settling back into his arms once more… The gentle hands of sleep finally grabbing at you. «»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«» ↫Connect With Me!↬ My Website (Containing my socials + Contact info + Idea submission forms + other awesome, free stuff!) https://sites.google.com/view/kaila-falcon

Christopher Vecchio, CFA, Head of Futures and Forex, joins Tom Sosnoff and Tony Battista to talk about the importance of - or lack thereof - Fed Chair Jerome Powell's speech ahead of the December US inflation report (CPI) release on Thursday.

Christopher Vecchio, CFA, Head of Futures and Forex, joins Tom Sosnoff and Tony Battista to talk about the importance of - or lack thereof - Fed Chair Jerome Powell's speech ahead of the December US inflation report (CPI) release on Thursday.

Last week we talked about Nice France being host to the IMWC Men's race next September and for the Tour de France final stage in 2024. Nice is the place to be in January 2023 with the first ever Global Triathlon Awards where leading athletes and brands in the sport are honored ahead of the star-studded night at the Palais de la Mediterranee in Nice, France, on Friday, 20 January 2023.   Show Sponsor: UCAN Generation UCAN has a full line of nutrition products to fuel your sport. UCAN uses SuperStarch instead of simple sugars and stimulants to fuel athletes.  UCAN keeps blood sugar steady compared to the energy spikes and crashes of sugar-based products. UCAN also has hydration products focused on giving you the sodium you need when hydrating, including several clean and light flavors. Steady energy equals sustained performance and a faster finish line!   Use UCAN in your training and racing to fuel the healthy way, finish stronger and recover more quickly!  Use the code 303UCAN for 20% off at ucan.co/discount/303UCAN/ or ucan.co   In Today's Show Endurance News World Triathlon, Abu Dhabi Global Triathlon Awards (GTAs) Clash Daytona What's new in the 303 353 million verdict Michael Ingles v Ryan Montoya Colorado Springs event becomes qualifying event for US Gran Fondo National Championships Durango Video of the Week 2022 World Triathlon Championship Finals - Elite Women's Highlights   News Sponsor Buddy Insurance: Buddy Insurance gives you peace of mind to enjoy your training and racing to the fullest. Buddy's mission is simple, to help people fearlessly enjoy an active and outdoor lifestyle.    Get on-demand accident insurance just in case the unexpected happens. Buddy ensures you have cash for bills fast.  Go to buddyinsurance.com and create an account.  There's no commitment or charge to create one.  Once you have an account created, it's a snap to open your phone and in a couple clicks have coverage for the day.  Check it out!   Endurance News:   Shortlists Announced For First Global Triathlon Awards December 6, 2022   Hosts, Judges and Nominees Revealed Ahead of Triathlon's Glittering Night /ENDURANCE SPORTSWIRE/ – The shortlist for the first Global Triathlon Awards (GTAs) has today been announced as the leading athletes and brands in the sport are honoured ahead of the star-studded night at the Palais de la Mediterranee in Nice, France, on Friday, 20 January 2023.   Also revealed today are the hosts for the event. Will McCloy, known as the ‘voice of Super League Triathlon' will MC the event alongside Paula Radcliffe MBE, three-time winner of both the London and New York marathons and an endurance sport legend.   The GTAs is being supported by major event organisers including World Triathlon, Super League Triathlon & Professional Triathlete's Organisation, alongside fantastic headline partners France's Department 06 & cycling specialist brand Ekoi who will all present awards on stage and join the celebration of the sport and the wider community.   The coveted Male and Female athlete award categories see the best of short and long course come together. In the Male category Hayden Wilde, Alex Yee and Matt Hauser come up against Kristian Blummenfelt and Gustav Iden. In the Female category Flora Duffy and Georgia Taylor-Brown are joined by Chelsea Sodaro, Lucy Charles-Barclay and Ashleigh Gentle.   The GTAs are judged by a panel of key-selected industry experts. For 2023, we are honoured to have Jordan Blanco, Stephane Diagana, Emma-Kate Lidbury, Tim Don and Chelsea Burns on the judging panel.   In addition to the public nominations, which are then scored across two judging rounds via a digital platform followed by an in person judging day, the GTAs will also have the exclusive new ‘Lifetime Kudos Awards', which recognise those who have made outstanding contributions to the sport and what will be the ultimate GTA Award to win.   These awards are nominated by judges and decided upon by partners, who discuss and recognise those who have accomplished outstanding contributions towards the triathlon industry and community over a lifetime of achievement.Tables & tickets for the 2023 GTA Ceremony, with the opportunity to mix with key organisers and stars of the sport, are on sale and can be purchased via: https://globaltriawards.com   Dazzling Duffy wins record fourth World Triathlon title after spectacular season finale by Doug Gray on 25 Nov, 2022 11:40 •  Español Dazzling Duffy wins record fourth World Triathlon title after spectacular season finale Flora Duffy became the only woman ever to win four World Triathlon titles on Friday afternoon in Abu Dhabi, with yet another display to utterly underline her position as the greatest woman that the sport has ever seen.   Shrugging off the soaring temperatures, Bermuda's Olympic hero was again able to produce the goods when it mattered most, navigating plenty of drama on the 40km bike and then easing away from the only woman who could stop her date with destiny, Georgia Taylor-Brown. Gold secured Duffy the title, the race and Series silver went to Taylor-Brown, an excellent first podium for Lena Meissner in third. Another eventful fourth place finish for Taylor Knibb after coming off on the bike secured her the Series bronze.   “I'm really, really proud of this one,” said a beaming Duffy afterwards. “It was a difficult start to the year for me coming out of the Olympics and Covid and everything and it took a lot of work to get my mind back into it so I'm thrilled. I smiled a few times when it was just me and Georgia… I feel like she brings me to another level. We don't really give each other an inch and I just wanted to stay safe because it's super hot out there. When I got a little bit of a gap on the third lap of the run it was a little sooner than I anticipated but I thought; ‘well, gotta go now!'   Knibb and Duffy spearhead swim With temperatures hitting 33 degrees and shade at a premium out on the course, the yellow hats of the top-ranked athletes filed in and on to the right of the pontoon on the edge of Yas Bay. Flora Duffy and Georgia Taylor-Brown didn't get the best of starts in the water, but were soon digging in to hit the first buoy without any trouble Taylor Knibb on the front.   It was the American out first at the turn with Duffy on her feet from Beth Potter, Vittoria Lopes and Taylor-Brown out in fifth, and that was largely how it stayed for the second 750m lap, Summer Rappaport working her way to the front as the six came up and into transition.   German duo Laura Lindemann and Lisa Tertsch and Netherlands' Maya Kingma were right there too, but Duffy was slick through transition and away on the 40km first, Taylor-Brown and Potter in hot pursuit, Knibb losing some ground on the six chasing the Bermudian.   9-Deep bike pack leads It wouldn't take long for Knibb to catch on, Germany's Lena Meissner too, and behind the front nine, Taylor Spivey and Kirsten Kasper were riding together 23 seconds back, Cassandre Beaugrand fronting another 11 athletes giving chase but now 54 seconds off the leaders after three laps of nine.   Up front, Knibb was prodding and probing, looking to work an opening from wide positions so the Series leaders and championship chasers had to keep fully alert for any sign of an American charge as well as for the tight and technical corners.   Duffy then started to test those around her, a mini-break not sticking, the leaders stretching out then coming together repeatedly, though Lindemann fell off the pace to join those behind, now including Tertsch after the German came off but 90 seconds back after five laps.   Duffy, Knibb and Taylor-Brown continued to share duties out front, Potter having issues on lap six and next to fall off the leaders and start to ride alone, 20 seconds back.   Knibb fall halts progress More drama at the end of lap seven saw Knibb's wheel slide out taking Kingma with her, Lopes and Meissner just able to avoid trouble and stay with Duffy and Taylor-Brown up ahead. Knibb wrestled with her chain for what felt like an eternity but still managed to ride back up to Kingma at the bell, but there was now suddenly just four main contenders for the medals.   With the bikes racked, there was no surprise to see the two title-chasers heading out together once more and the best in the world ran together for two laps, the title and an epic season coming right down to a 5km foot race to the line.   Duffy books date with triathlon destiny It was coming out onto lap three that Duffy asked the big question, and as she accelerated up the small hill and back out into the heart of the course, it quickly became clear that Taylor-Brown had no answer. Soon the Bermudian was out of sight, looking undaunted by the heat, fully focussed on the fourth title she slowly realised was hers.   Taylor-Brown finished with the silver at the end of an exhausting campaign, Meissner with a gutsy first ever WTCS podium ahead of Knibb. Leonie Periault (FRA) ran her way into fifth, Lopes hung on for an excellent sixth ahead of Spivey, Emma Lombardi (FRA), Miriam Casillas Garcia (ESP) and Cassandre Beaugrand rounding out the top 10.   “I gave it everything I had today,” said Georgia Taylor-Brown. “It's been a hard few months and I've tried to forget about it all but i'm really proud of myself out there today and giving it everything and doing all I could. We were battling it out to the end and I wouldn't have it any other way, and I don't think she would. I'm still learning in every race and I still want that world title one day.”   “I can't believe that, I need a few days to let it sink in,” said a thrilled Meissner. “It was tough but I got here 10 days ago and had good heat prep and there was lots of water and ice out there. I just tried to stay calm and confident and it just worked perfectly for me today.”   “I'm pretty shocked, there were a lot of ups and downs in the season and today,” said Knibb. “The corner was entirely my fault, I wasn't full processing things at that point, it was a bit of user error and I'm sorry to Maya and Vittoria and Lena behind me for that. Hopefully I will be back here in March to go again.”   Women's Results Pos First Name Last Name YOB Country Start Num Time Swim 1500m T1 Bike 40km T2 Run 10km 1 Flora Duffy 1987  BER 2 01:53:24 00:19:20 00:01:13 00:59:58 00:00:29 00:32:27 2 Georgia Taylor-Brown 1994  GBR 1 01:54:28 00:19:25 00:01:11 00:59:54 00:00:26 00:33:33 3 Lena Meißner 1998  GER 26 01:55:59 00:19:30 00:01:10 00:59:51 00:00:27 00:35:03 4 Taylor Knibb 1998  USA 5 01:56:40 00:19:26 00:01:18 01:00:20 00:00:31 00:35:07 5 Leonie Periault 1994  FRA 34 01:56:51 00:20:00 00:01:12 01:02:22 00:00:26 00:32:54 6 Vittoria Lopes 1996  BRA 27 01:56:59 00:19:24 00:01:16 00:59:53 00:00:31 00:35:57 7 Taylor Spivey 1991  USA 7 01:57:44 00:19:41 00:01:11 01:02:03 00:00:28 00:34:23 8 Emma Lombardi 2001  FRA 14 01:57:50 00:19:46 00:01:10 01:02:30 00:00:23 00:34:02 9 Miriam Casillas García 1992  ESP 10 01:57:56 00:20:21 00:01:10 01:01:55 00:00:24 00:34:08 10 Cassandre Beaugrand 1997  FRA 6 01:58:13 00:19:29 00:01:12 01:02:53 00:00:26 00:34:15   Men's Results Pos First Name Last Name YOB Country Start Num Time Swim 1500m T1 Bike 40km T2 Run 10km 1 Léo Bergere 1996  FRA 3 01:44:14 00:18:09 00:01:04 00:54:57 00:00:22 00:29:44 2 Morgan Pearson 1993  USA 62 01:44:25 00:18:35 00:01:02 00:55:13 00:00:23 00:29:15 3 Jelle Geens 1993  BEL 4 01:44:34 00:18:43 00:01:10 00:54:53 00:00:22 00:29:28 4 Alex Yee 1998  GBR 2 01:44:37 00:18:33 00:01:03 00:55:12 00:00:27 00:29:24 5 Matthew Hauser 1998  AUS 10 01:44:51 00:18:33 00:01:06 00:55:11 00:00:21 00:29:42 6 Hayden Wilde 1997  NZL 1 01:45:13 00:18:15 00:01:04 00:55:31 00:00:24 00:30:01 7 Vincent Luis 1989  FRA 5 01:45:19 00:17:54 00:01:08 00:55:09 00:00:25 00:30:45 8 Kristian Blummenfelt 1994  NOR 44 01:45:19 00:18:27 00:01:09 00:55:10 00:00:26 00:30:10 9 Joao Silva 1989  POR 16 01:45:23 00:18:48 00:01:06 00:54:56 00:00:24 00:30:10 10 Matthew Mcelroy 1992  USA 27 01:45:26 00:18:48 00:01:04 00:54:56 00:00:33 00:30:06   What's New in the 303: 353 million verdict Michael Ingles v Ryan Montoya 719 Ride joins the SUAREZ Gran Fondo National Series December 7, 2022 Colorado Springs event becomes qualifying event for US Gran Fondo National Championships Gettysburg, PA – December 7, 2022 /ENDURANCE SPORTSWIRE/ – Gran Fondo National Series is proud to announce the 719 Ride as a partner event in the 2023 SUAREZ Gran Fondo National Series. Starting in 2023, 719 Ride participants can earn points toward the season-long Gran Fondo National Series Points Competition and qualify for the USA Cycling Gran Fondo National Championships.   The 719 Ride Elevation Celebration will celebrate eight years of cycling fatigue and fun in Colorado Springs in 2023. To honor the 100th anniversary of the death of its fictional inspiration, this Festival of Never-ending Ascending intends to wears its participants out on a 14.4-mile course in the grand shadow of America's Mountain, Pikes Peak. Riders can complete any number of laps for a price 40% lower than a similar event.   The signature ride is five laps of The Course That Cannot Be Defeated (71.9 miles and 9,190 feet of elevation gain). The torture and torment will occur on July 15, 2023, and registration opens March 12, 2023.   “Participants of the 719 Ride have said it's ‘intense pain and excellent fun.' That ‘it's a true test of mental toughness' and is ‘like gelato for the soul.' I'm excited to partner with the SUAREZ Gran Fondo National Series to introduce our lactic acid crippling haze to the fondo riding community. I'm confident that Series riders will be solidly cracked by the end of the Gran Route and that all riders will love the easy-going, low-key nature of our suffer- and pleasure-fest. — Chris Giovagnoni, Founder   As part of the Series, points will be awarded based on two timed sections of the main 719 Ride course. To qualify for the Gran Route standings, riders must complete at least five laps. Rankings will be determined by the sum of a rider's five fastest timed segments on both sections. For the Medio Route, a rider must complete three or four laps, and rankings will be determined by the sum of a rider's three fastest timed segments on both section. Piccolo Route riders must complete at least two laps, and rankings will be determined by a rider's fastest cumulative time on both segments.   “I am proud to welcome 719 Ride to the SUAREZ Gran Fondo National Series and provide cyclists in the Rocky Mountain region with another opportunity to earn Series points and qualify for USA Cycling Gran Fondo National Championships,” said Gran Fondo National Series Founder, Reuben Kline. “719 Ride's unique format aligns with our philosophy of enabling cyclists of all ability and interest levels to ride together and share in a great event experience.”   About Gran Fondo National Series (granfondonationalseries.com) Founded in 2012 by event director Reuben Kline, the Gran Fondo National Series is the largest and most competitive series of gran fondo cycling events in the United States. Gran Fondo National Series was the first series to implement timed-segment racing into US gran fondo events and has crowned Gran Fondo National Champions and Gran Fondo National Series Champions since 2012. Since 2020, Gran Fondo National Series has been the organizer of the official USA Cycling Gran Fondo National Championships.   About the 719 Ride First conceived and ridden in 2016, the 719 Ride aspires to be a bicycle event that contributes to the culture and community of Colorado Springs. The event is a homegrown, locally organized experience riding in the draft of many great and long-established Colorado cycling events. It hopes to become a positive part of the Colorado Springs tradition and identity while celebrating the tradition, lore and culture of cycling and helping set the pace for cycling fun in the Rocky Mountain region.   Video of the week: 2022 World Triathlon Championship Finals - Elite Women's Highlights   Mondays With Mark Allen Episode 34: Two Days, Two Races, Two Countries   Closing: Thanks again for listening in this week.  Please be sure to follow us @303endurance and of course go to iTunes and give us a rating and a comment.  We'd really appreciate it! Stay tuned, train informed, and enjoy the endurance journey!

WHEN YOUR SO-CALLED “WEAKNESS” BECOMES YOUR STRENGTH, NOTHING CAN STOP YOUMatthew Provins is back with a rather inspirational episode. Matt talks about choosing the right people to approach rather than making your process just another numbers game, and what makes disabled and marginalized people stand out against an average salesperson. Tune in and learn to overcome your weakness in this latest episode of Sales Transformation. Want to book more meetings and close more deals? Start selling the way your buyers want to buy with Humantic AI! Stop sending boring sales e-mails and start sending personalized GIFs and Memes with VIDU.io!TRANSFORMING MOMENTSGetting beyond used to rejectionGetting feedback from the people he calledFind the right people instead of making it a numbers gameProving that the tech space is for anybody“Anybody that's come from a marginalized community is having that mindset of improvise, adapt, overcome, find a way to accomplish something, never give up, and that's what makes us stand apart from the average salesperson. That rejection is something we faced since the day we were born. People see us as different, and so when it comes to sales, it's a whole different level for us. We're used to that, and so we can overcome that easy peasy.” - MATTHEW: My disability is an advantage Connect with MatthewMatthew Provins | Pause | DialPause.comConnect with CollinLinkedIn | YouTube | Newsletter | Twitter | IG | TikTok

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Join Laura and Xhafer, two internet strangers as they get to know each other while making jokes about one of their favorite TV shows from their childhood, Babylon 5.Laura and Xhafer branch out into the expanded B5 universe with their first book club review. The origins of the Psi Corps and one of Babylon 5's best antagonists are revealed in The Psi Corps Trilogy Book 1, Dark Genesis.#B5onCWin23

Trump makes an apparent death threat against McConnell and Marjorie Taylor Greene incites violence at one of his rallies. Official GOP response? Crickets. Meanwhile, CPAC goes full RT and Russia stumbles in Ukraine. Will Saletan is back with Charlie Sykes for Charlie and Will Monday. See the Bulwark crew LIVE in DC on October 20th. Get tickets here: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/an-evening-with-the-bulwark-tickets-427557324467?aff=Radio Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Trump makes an apparent death threat against McConnell and Marjorie Taylor Greene incites violence at one of his rallies. Official GOP response? Crickets. Meanwhile, CPAC goes full RT and Russia stumbles in Ukraine. Will Saletan is back with Charlie Sykes for Charlie and Will Monday. See the Bulwark crew LIVE in DC on October 20th. Get tickets here: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/an-evening-with-the-bulwark-tickets-427557324467?aff=Radio Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Looking for love in all the wrong places is nothing new for Phoebe. She's spent most of the '70s trying her best to connect the dots, but inevitably her number two pencil breaks or coffee stains the paper. It's not that she settles for the wrong guys, but somehow she pulls them in, and it's over before it begins. In every relationship, Phoebe leaps with the accuracy of an Olympic diver. And paddles with the grace of a synchronized swimmer. The mechanics are solid, but the show stops there because Phoebe can't fake emotion. She'd give everything she had in the world to experience love, anger, hurt, or at least once, feel inspired.Phoebe is no stranger to a night out on the town independently. She'll begin the evening solo at least, but it's never difficult for a woman with Phoebe's natural gifts to take someone home. Most people would never dream of visiting the annual Clarkstown carnival without a companion, but it doesn't phase our Phoebe. The line isn't long for the fun house; she takes a spot. The music and crowd are noisy, so the remarks of half of the men strolling by go unnoticed. One gentleman briefly catches her eye with a Mona Lisa smile and a frosty stare. The subtle connection is lost to the twilight as the carny collects Phoebe's ticket and encourages her to enter. The hoopla and occasional cry, any good fun house has to offer, dampens the outside racket. Frightened kids push and attempt to plow by Phoebe as she quickly loses her patience and turns to discipline each of the children. To her surprise, not a single soul is within eyesight. Exterior noise dissipates, and Phoebe finds herself alone inside. Shrugging the oddity off as part of the ride, she takes a few more steps deeper into the carnival attraction. Thick, odorless smoke creeps up from her ankles, impairing her already suffering vision in the darkness. A hum followed by a bizarre pastel glimmer catches her attention, pulling her closer. Phoebe arrives to discover an open doorway with a neon sign that reads, "choose your ending." The curious thrill seeker wanders through to find a well-kept hard maple staircase seemingly suspended in the air, surrounded by a starless cosmos. Each step downward unveils unrecognizable yet familiar sounds resonating with background noise like speakers from an antique radio. Some of the static clears as Phoebe descends but is quickly interrupted by more interference. The soundwaves grow vicious and prove to be more than her ears can handle, forcing the lost wanderer to sprint toward the bottom. Phoebe slips as she approaches the end of her descent, bashing her head on the unbending surface. Welcome silence abruptly takes the reigns as Phoebe focuses on a single door. Two words, "would of," are painted on the exterior. The disoriented young woman attempts to open it and finds that it is locked tight. After trying to force her way in for a few moments, she gives up. Then it happened; a slight creaking sound indicated an open exit. Pushing through, she finds an apartment no different than any other where she ends up any given night. It's like every man who has ever taken her home used the same interior decorator; the same two wine glasses, the same retro record player, and the same sofa complete with a chaise lounge. A couple clumsily walks into the apartment, startling Phoebe enough to hide behind the couch instinctively. The man speaks to his date, and she responds, uncovering an eerie truth. Phoebe peeks over the couch to get a glimpse of the two intoxicated lovers, only to realize the gentleman is looking directly at her. In a frantic attempt to explain herself, Phoebe quickly realizes that the others cannot see her. The unknown woman turns to expose herself, revealing a familiar face. Phoebe struggles to understand what is happing and can't decide if she's looking into a mirror or watching herself like in some trippy sci-fi television show. Finally, she recognizes the guy from earlier in the evening; he's the one with the Mona Lisa smile. Unsure how to manage the situation, Phoebe collapses to the floor and watches the event unfold. After a few minutes of chitchat, casanova picks up the empty wine glasses and stumbles to the kitchen, leaving his half-conscious date behind, while Phoebe follows. She witnesses the shifty scumbag dump white powder into his inebriated damsel's cup before filling it with cheap red wine. Phoebe watches as he returns to his lair and urges his companion to drink it all. Time wears on, and the look on the man's face evolves, revealing a cruel predator drooling over an unconscious prey. He throws the lifeless body over his shoulder, disappearing into the bedroom like a spider, ready to weave its web around a helpless bug. The creak from the mystical door signals that it's time for Phoebe to leave. She again stands outside in the darkness at the bottom of the staircase, facing a locked doorway. The only difference this time is the words that read, "Could of," instead of the previous phrase. Experienced, Phoebe patiently waits at the entrance for her cue. Once the passage is clear, Phoebe storms through, ready to battle the demon on the other side. Everything is the same, except for one detail. This time Phoebe isn't watching herself. Instead, it's a complete stranger accompanying the manipulative beast. It doesn't take long before Phoebe realizes whatever is allowing her to watch the story has no intention of letting her interfere. She feels as vulnerable as the target, desperately wanting to lash out at the promiscuous pervert. Phoebe may as well be a ghost as she experiences a replay of the last show with a new unsuspecting cast member. Again, Phoebe finds herself outside with a new sign that reads, "Should of." She impatiently waits for the signal before stepping through the third time. Tears soak Phoebe's face as she assumes she's damned to confront the scenario repeatedly, like some malicious supernatural loop. Despair influences Phoebe to slide down the wall embracing the helplessness but refusing to monitor the ritual. She can't help but take a glimpse after hearing her own voice, just as she did the first round. She watches herself make the same mistakes, except now something has changed. The would-be target follows the wicked coward into the kitchen, shoves her body against his backside while he pours the wine, and slashes his throat with a nearby serrated bread knife. The blade rips through his skin as she saws with all of her strength. The bottle and glasses shatter at his bare feet, sticking deep into his heels and toes. Chunks of flesh tear from his neck, then dangle for a moment and fall to the floor, eventually disguised by a pool of blood and discount liquor store wine. Red specs build up on the checkered tile backsplash, ultimately leaving a pathway to the sink and down the drain. Gurgled screams give way to a silenced panic as cold steel mutilates his vocal cords. Phoebe spectates with no remorse because guilt does not coexist alongside vengeance. Adrenaline streamed through Phoebe's veins; this was an inspiring first. She watched as her clone dropped the knife to the floor, grabbed her jacket, and left the apartment. One last spasm and 'Mona Lisa Smiles' was gone. Phoebe left the scene expecting to find herself at the bottom of a magical floating staircase. Instead, she stood outside in a crowded midway while the sounds of bells and whistles hijacked any chance to reflect. She remained still, waiting for the right moment to act, and then she saw him. Not one pretty girl walked by without tasting his frosty stare. He patiently waited for the right mix of vulnerability, shuffled into naiveness, and enclosed snuggly inside a flawless body. Phoebe meticulously surveyed until she noticed the young lady who was on the other side of door number two catch his attention. Phoebe hustled to make her way to the gentleman first because tonight he had a date with the girl behind door number three.

It can be really helpful to let go of perfectionism when preparing for big things. Shannon is embracing imperfection in her preparations for her much-anticipated trip to Portugal. This episode Shannon and Janine discuss preparing imperfectly as a way to free yourself from stress. Discussion topics include: • Shannon's (imperfect) preparation for her month-long trip to Portugal • Shannon's itinerary • The 175-mile solo walking part of her trip • Janine's over preparation for her 4,000-mile solo driving trip in 2020 • Asking for help in finding the right backpack • The kindness of Shannon's naturopath in lending her a backpack • Shannon's walking footwear • How Shannon is figuring out what clothing to take on the trip • Shrugging off the stress of potentially making the wrong decision • Shannon's mantra: "It will be fine. I can always make a different choice." Note: We'll be taking a few weeks off while Shannon is in Portugal. See you back on October 13!

↫Story↬ (Story written by me! Check me out on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Kaila_Falcon) …………… You sit off to the side, nursing the drink Hangman had grabbed you hours ago - or at least that's what it's felt like. You honestly have no idea why you're even here, watching your comrades play pool. You'd been recalled from your post for whatever this mission was, and apparently, all your other classmates from Top Gun had gotten the same message. "If it ain't Phoenix! Here I thought we were special, Coyote!" Hangman hollers from where he's standing, drink in hand. And indeed it is Phoenix, accompanied by two others you almost immediately recognize - Payback and Fanboy. "Who's he?" She asks nonchalantly, gesturing to the person who'd been sitting opposite to you, munching away on peanuts. "Who's who?" Phoenix motions to him once more, the group of them following her gaze. "When did you get in?" "Oh, I've been here the whole time," The newcomer stammers slightly, earning a chuckle from the group in front of you while you simply exchange a look with Phoenix. "Man's a stealth pilot." "Literally." "Weapon Systems Officer, actually," Comes the reply, once more sounding hesitant and unsure. "With no sense of humor," Hangman grimaces, wandering away, no doubt going to get some more drinks. "What do they call you?" The woman who'd first noticed him inquires, genuine curiosity in her tone. "Bob." "No, your callsign," Payback chuckles, shaking his head. "Uh... Bob..." He repeats with a soft tone. "Bob Floyd. You're my new backseater?" "Looks like it, yeah." And as Phoenix passes Bob the pool cue, your gaze wanders out over the array of people, noticing a slightly older pilot sitting alone at the bar, the insignia for Top Gun barely visible on his jacket. He looks sort of lost... almost as if he's searching for someone or something... Shrugging away the thought, your gaze refocuses on your friends, the rumble of an engine outside meeting your ears. And before you know it, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is wandering towards you and Phoenix, clad in a plain shirt and flannel, a pair of dark sunglasses sitting upon his features. "This is how I find out you're stateside?" "Yeah, I just thought I'd surprise you." Sharing a smile with you, Rooster takes a seat at your side, Phoenix following suit. "It's good to see you." "Good to see you too." And as the evening stretches on, you can't help but feel a sense of ease and excitement for whatever this mission may hold. After all, you'll be with your comrades yet again, ready to take to the skies once again. …………… ↫Info↬ I own no rights to any sounds used in this video! I simply just compiled them into this soundscape! The image is also not mine! This audio is great to play in the background to help sleep, study, or simply relax! …………… ↫Connect With Me!↬ My Linktree (Containing my socials + Contact info + Idea submission forms + other awesome, free stuff!) https://linktr.ee/Kaila_Falcon …………… ↫Disclaimer↬ None of these sounds, songs or images used to make this are mine. All credit goes to every single rightful owner. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational, or personal use, tips the balance in favor of fair use. No copyright infringement is intended. All rights go to the original owner. This video is solely for entertainment and personal purposes.

Ryan Rush - All Campuses - Joshua 17

Kai Hoffman. CEO of Soar Financial Group, discusses the muted interest and recent pullback in the precious metals sector, and the upcoming 4th German Gold Fair.

The night had been long. Simon felt bone-weary as he cleaned his fishing nets. There on the shore, surrounded by a large crowd, was Jesus. This man had already healed many. He taught with such authority; He had even driven out a demon who called Him “the Holy One of God.” Simon was wondering what Jesus would do next, when Jesus stepped into Simon's boat...and looked at him in a way that made Simon feel seen and known. Jesus asked Simon to move his boat to the shallows. Shrugging, Simon complied, and Jesus sat down and continued teaching from the boat. When Jesus finished speaking to the people, He turned to Simon and said, “Put out into deep water, and let the nets down for a catch.” Feeling like he needed to clean the wax out of his ears, Simon shook his head in bewilderment. No one fished during the day. He said, “Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.” Simon signaled his partners, James and John, and together they lowered their nets into the water. After a moment, James yelled, “John, Simon, look!” They peered over the side of the boat and gasped. “There's already a bunch of fish in the nets!” The boat began to tip at the sheer number of fish flowing into the nets, their bodies shimmering in the morning sunlight. John signaled more of their partners in a separate boat for help. The muscles in Simon's arms strained as he gripped the net with all his strength. “The boats are sinking—there's just so many fish!” James threw his head back and laughed in wonder. Simon looked at Jesus and fell at His feet. Surely this Jesus was more than just a man. • Savannah Coleman • This story is how one author imagines Luke 5:1-8. Why do you think Simon did what Jesus asked? • What did Simon say when he fell at Jesus's feet, and why do you think he said that? What did Jesus say in response? (Luke 5:8-10) • Who is Jesus? Simon (later renamed Peter) followed Jesus, and God revealed His true identity to him. Simon Peter was the first of the disciples to say that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:13-18). To find out more about who Jesus is, check out our "Know Jesus" page. So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him. Luke 5:11 (NIV)