Podcasts about Solitude

This week, I talk with Parker Palmer in one of the most intimate and expansive conversations I've had on Good Work. Parker is an author, activist, and teacher whose ideas have shaped generations. But what moves me most is his honesty. We talk about the winding path that led him from academic life to community organizing to a Quaker learning community where he rebuilt his inner world. We explore discernment, solitude, “Circles of Trust”, and what it means to listen to the voice of your soul—especially in seasons of burnout or heartbreak. At 86, Parker reflects on aging, democracy, vocation, and his belief that the heart can break in two ways: it can shatter, or it can break open into greater capacity. If you've ever felt pulled toward a path you “can't not do,” or if your inner life is asking more of you right now, this conversation is for you. Let's get to it! In this episode: (00:00) – Intro (00:42) – “Deep in the oatmeal” and the role of humor in a serious life (02:11) – How Parker's spiritual life slowly took shape (13:08) – Choosing to stay at Pendle Hill—and what that meant for Parker's family (23:45) – How to tell the difference between a passing idea and a true calling (31:40) – A radically different way of being in community (40:45) – Why presence matters more than fixing (52:35) – The unlikely beginnings of the Center for Courage & Renewal (01:05:17) – What 30 years of building an organization has taught Parker (01:15:06) – Solitude, nature, and marriage as sustaining practices (01:22:31) – Aging, loss, and staying open to what's next (01:30:39) – The two ways a heart can break Get full show notes and links at https://GoodWorkShow.com. Watch the episode on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@barrettabrooks.

Act One: The Joy of Solitude: How to Reconnect with Yourself in an Overconnected World by Robert Coplan Act Two: Arrangements in Blue Notes by Amy Key Sponsored By: Aura Frames - Get $35 off Aura's best-selling Carver Mat frames by using promo code BIGIDEADAILY at auraframes.com  GoDaddy - Get a domain and professional email plan for just $0.99/month at Godaddy.com/GDNOW Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It all comes down to this. A friendship buried under the weight of secrets, lies, and treachery comes to a head at the Fortress of Solitude. This episode has everything:  action, tears, a little bit of aura-blasting. Don't miss this series highlight as we get into all the emotions around Lex and Michael's final full episode of Smallville. You will not want to miss this. Derek Russell, our friend, patron, and man with the long-running Smallville/Superman-adjacent podcast, Super House of El, also joins us to break it all down even further. Thank you to our sponsors:

"The moment being alone stops bothering you, your whole life levels up." —Uriel Maksumov With the holidays upon us, I have come to discover an unexpected gift of enjoying my own company during this time of year - the realization of what I most enjoy about the holidays. And here's the catch: when it is chosen, it is liberating. It's clarifying, and as the quote above acknowledges, it is life-elevating. This doesn't mean we are alone 24 hours a day, or even live alone. What solitude, regularly savored, gives us is the life we say we want, but either haven't yet realized or haven't yet trusted to be dependable in what it gives us. As we'll talk about further along in our post today, part of the reason those of us who already do enjoy our solitude, however much or little we have, may doubt the nourishment is because our culture doesn't value it or speak about it in as praising terms as it does social activities and living situations. Words are powerful. Propaganda, persuasive marketing, it all involves words, and how we speak about what is valued, when heard often enough, will influence our trust in what is possible, what we are willing to be brave enough to explore, even with all of the unknowns. "Solitude, which is one of the most agreeable sensations of the natural man, and it is one of the most painful and alarming sensations of the civilised man." ― William J. Dawson, The Quest of the Simple Life The value of solitude, regularly experienced, has the capacity to bring peace not only into our lives but also, consequently, expand more widely into a community of peaceful people. And what better time of year to talk about peace on earth, non? How can we bring about more peace? By finding true peace within ourselves. Where do we find what we have so far been unable to locate to experience this peace - in the companionship of ourselves. No, I am not saying you have to be single, but you can be. No, I am not saying you have to spend all day, all week alone, but you can. As you will discover below, the amount of solitude is as unique as each individual. The key lies in the ingredients of the solitude we partake in. Let's take a look at how to embrace solitude, what we gain from it, and how to change the narrative around solitude in our culture. "All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." —Blaise Pascal, a seventeenth-century French mathematician, inventor and philosopher Find the Show Notes for episode #416 on The Simply Luxurious Life blog - https://thesimplyluxuriouslife.com/podcast416 

Ep. 363: Beatrice Loayza and Adam Nayman on 2025 in movies: The Testament of Ann Lee, Sinners, Dracula, Bugonia, Eddington, Hamnet, and much more Welcome to The Last Thing I Saw, with your host, Nicolas Rapold. For a look at the films of 2025, I'm happy to welcome back two critics who have joined the podcast together before: Adam Nayman (The Ringer) and Beatrice Loayza (The New York Times, The Nation, Criterion Collection). Among the films discussed are The Testament of Ann Lee, Eddington, Afternoons of Solitude, Hamnet, Sinners, Dracula, The Housemaid, Sirat, the latest Avatar installment, One Battle After Another, Train Dreams, and... The Electric State. Plus: Adam and Beatrice's picks for overlooked movies deserving of a second (or first) look. Please support the production of this podcast by signing up at: rapold.substack.com Photo by Steve Snodgrass

Our culture doesn't just move fast—it demands that we keep up. But what do our souls, our families, and our faith lose when we never slow down?Jonathan Youssef is joined again by author and nonprofit leader Kristen Welch for a deeply honest discussion about busyness, spiritual burnout, and the life-giving invitation to sit with Jesus. Kristen shares how years of faithful work and constant activity slowly led her toward spiritual depletion and how solitude and surrender became the pathway back to intimacy with God.Together, Jonathan and Kristen explore the dangers of equating productivity with faithfulness, the role of spiritual disciplines in a distracted world, and what it looks like to lead and live from a place of rest rather than striving.In This Episode, You'll Hear About:Why busyness is often celebrated, but spiritually dangerousThe difference between doing things for God and being with GodHow distraction can quietly create distance from the LordThe role of silence, solitude, and Sabbath in spiritual formationLearning to listen for God's voice in a noisy, over-stimulated worldCreating rhythms and habits that form us toward ChristRediscovering identity as a child of God, not a performerAbout Kristen WelchKristen Welch is an author, speaker, and the founder of the global non-profit, Mercy House Global. She is currently writing a forthcoming book titled The Little Big Life: Quieting the Noise to Find the Secret Place with Jesus, to be released in the fall of 2026.Subscribe & Share:If this episode challenged you, please subscribe, leave a review, and share it with others.Follow Candid Conversations on social media:Instagram: @candidpodTikTok: @officiallycandidpodYouTube: @CandidPod

Buckle up for a different type of day in Wyoming's Bighorn mountains. The sisters chat about mountain microclimates and considering weather conditions as they plan to cross Florence pass. But their plans go sideways when something unexpected occurs. Tune in as the proverbial s*** hits the fan… er, leg. As Carrie puts it, “In life, things don't always go the way that you want. But with a good attitude, things can still go the best way they could've possibly gone.”

How well can we know someone through the objects they encountered? In this episode, Jacke talks to Kathryn Sutherland, Senior Research fellow at St. Anne's College, Oxford, about her new book Jane Austen in 41 Objects, which examines the objects Jane Austen encountered during her life alongside newer memorabilia inspired by the life she lived. PLUS Jacke takes a look at Gabriel García Márquez's classic multigenerational magical realist novel 100 Years of Solitude, which lands at #5 on the list of the Greatest Books of All Time. Join Jacke on a trip through literary England! Join Jacke and fellow literature fans on an eight-day journey through literary England in partnership with ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠John Shors Travel⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ in May 2026! Scheduled stops include The Charles Dickens Museum, Dr. Johnson's house, Jane Austen's Bath, Tolkien's Oxford, Shakespeare's Globe Theater, and more. Learn more by emailing jackewilsonauthor@gmail.com or masahiko@johnshorstravel.com, or by contacting us through our website ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠historyofliterature.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Mid-December update: Act soon - there are only two spots left! The music in this episode is by Gabriel Ruiz-Bernal. Learn more at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠gabrielruizbernal.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Help support the show at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/literature ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠historyofliterature.com/donate ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Ask Joni a question here! --------This Christmas, you can shine the light of Christ into places of darkness and pain with a purchase from the Joni and Friends Christmas catalog. You are sending hope and practical care to people with disabilities, all in the name of Jesus! Thank you for listening! Your support of Joni and Friends helps make this show possible. Joni and Friends envisions a world where every person with a disability finds hope, dignity, and their place in the body of Christ. Become part of the global movement today at www.joniandfriends.org. Find more encouragement on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and YouTube.

Tracklist: 01. Cephas Azariah & Elle Limebear - Tides 02. UnClubbed & Zoe Durrant - Need To Feel Loved (Guy J Remix) 03. Circulation - Space Medley (Futura City FM Texture) 04. Darren Tate & Susie Ledge - In This Space (Extended Deep Mix) 05. fishplant - Sunrise Dream (Morning Mix) 06. Tom Wax & Mijk Van Dijk - From XS to Eternity 07. Northern Form - Two Pines 08. Cold Blue - For A Miracle (Extended Mix) 09. SolarFlow - Calling You (Original Mix) 10. Super-Frog Saves Tokyo - Ascend 11. Guy J - Only If 12. CHILL OF THE MOMENT: Johan Gielen pres. Airscape - Never Look Back 13. Tony Sieber & Thomas Lemmer - Dark Moon 14. Exogenetic - Misty (Original Mix) 15. The Ambientalist - Wonders 16. Mark Barrott - I Am The Sun, You Are The Moon 17. The Grid - Floatation (Mark Barrott's Return to Sa Trinxa Remix) 18. Stelios Vassiloudis - Everybody Is Here 19. Shadows&Nightmares - Self-Transcendence (Orchestral Mix) 20. Mirage of Deep & Samantha Emme - Whispers Of Light 21. Niraj Naik & Alice Rose - Harmony (Chill Out Mix) 22. Raul Ojamaa feat. Muudu & Gustav Anders - Aeg/Time (Original Mix) 23. SOLITUDES CLASSIC: Alexander Volosnikov - I Want to Go to the Shore With You

Marie-Paule, veuve depuis un an, cherche à redonner un sens à sa vie en rencontrant de nouvelles personnes, notamment des hommes, pour des relations amicales ou amoureuses. Elle exprime son isolement malgré ses activités dans l'immobilier et ses tentatives de rapprochement avec la famille de son mari. Elle envisage de contacter une agence matrimoniale pour élargir son cercle social. Chaque soir, en direct, Caroline Dublanche accueille les auditeurs pour 2h30 d'échanges et de confidences. Pour participer, contactez l'émission au 09 69 39 10 11 (prix d'un appel local) ou sur parlonsnous@rtl.fr Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

On pense souvent que la solitude nuit au moral, au sommeil ou à la santé mentale. Mais une étude récente révèle un impact bien plus profond : l'isolement social pourrait réellement aggraver l'évolution d'un cancer. Publiée dans BMJ Oncology, cette méta-analyse pionnière montre que la solitude et l'absence de soutien social augmentent de 11 % le risque de décès spécifique au cancer. Un chiffre modeste en apparence, mais qui devient significatif lorsqu'on l'applique à des millions de patients.Pourquoi la solitude influence-t-elle autant la survie ? Les chercheurs décrivent une chaîne complexe de mécanismes biologiques et psychologiques. D'abord, l'isolement agit directement sur le corps. Il augmente les marqueurs d'inflammation systémique, un état dans lequel le système immunitaire est constamment activé. Or, cette inflammation chronique est connue pour favoriser la progression tumorale, diminuer l'efficacité de certains traitements et fragiliser l'organisme. Les analyses montrent également que la solitude modifie l'expression de plusieurs protéines plasmatiques liées au système immunitaire et au métabolisme, créant un terrain plus favorable à la croissance cancéreuse.Ensuite, l'absence de soutien social pèse lourdement sur l'esprit. Le cancer est une maladie qui bouleverse la vie quotidienne, génère de l'anxiété et nécessite de nombreuses décisions complexes. Quand une personne affronte seule ces épreuves, le stress augmente, la motivation diminue et l'observance des traitements peut devenir plus difficile. Certains patients isolés retardent leurs rendez-vous, suivent moins bien leurs prescriptions ou n'osent pas signaler des effets secondaires. À long terme, ces comportements altèrent directement les chances de survie.L'étude insiste aussi sur un élément clé : la perception de solitude compte autant que la solitude réelle. Deux personnes ayant un cercle social similaire ne vivront pas forcément la même expérience. Ce qui augmente le risque, ce n'est pas uniquement le nombre d'amis ou de visites, mais le sentiment intime d'être seul face à la maladie.Ces résultats invitent à repenser la prise en charge du cancer. Au-delà des traitements, du suivi médical et de la technologie, le lien humain devient un facteur de santé à part entière. Encourager la présence des proches, proposer un accompagnement psychologique, intégrer les patients dans des groupes de parole : toutes ces stratégies peuvent contribuer à réduire l'inflammation, améliorer l'état émotionnel et, in fine, augmenter les chances de survie. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

durée : 00:06:08 - Grand Reportage - par : Aurélie Kieffer - Dans leur abri de campagne, les artilleurs du 1er Corps d'Azov, 20e Brigade Liubart, sont confrontés à la solitude. Alors, comme tant d'autres soldats, que l'on voit poser sur des photos avec un chat sur l'épaule ou dans les bras, ils ont trouvé des animaux qui leur tiennent compagnie. - réalisation : Annie Brault

À l'approche des fêtes de fin d'année, une réalité revient avec plus d'acuité : celle des personnes qui se retrouvent seules, parfois très seules. Parmi elles, de nombreuses personnes âgées pour qui Noël, le réveillon ou simplement l'hiver peuvent devenir des périodes particulièrement difficiles. Pourtant, des solutions existent, à échelle humaine, basées sur la proximité et la solidarité.Parmi elles, l'association Bras dessus Bras dessous, active notamment à Bruxelles mais aussi à La Louvière, Morlanwelz, Nivelles, Ottignies–Louvain-la-Neuve et Rixensart. Son principe est volontairement simple : créer des binômes entre personnes vivant dans un même immeuble ou un même quartier. Il ne s'agit pas de devenir aidant professionnel, mais de donner un peu de temps : passer dire bonjour, téléphoner de temps en temps, partager une promenade, prendre un café, ou simplement appeler le 24 décembre pour rompre le silence.Bras dessus Bras dessous fait partie d'une plateforme plus large appelée Samen Toujours, qui fédère plusieurs réseaux d'entraide bruxellois spécialisés dans l'accompagnement des personnes âgées isolées. Une plateforme qui se distingue par son approche : ici, pas de regard misérabiliste ni de pitié. L'objectif est au contraire de changer le regard sur la vieillesse.Comme l'explique la coordinatrice Estelle Huchart, l'enjeu est de sortir d'une vision où vieillir serait assimilé à une maladie ou à un déclin inévitable. Vieillir, c'est avant tout continuer à faire société. Et si l'isolement s'installe, ce n'est jamais du jour au lendemain : il progresse lentement, au fil de la perte de liens, de mobilité, de confiance. D'où l'importance d'agir tôt, et surtout de cultiver les relations tout au long de la vie.Ces réseaux jouent aussi un rôle plus large de sensibilisation. Car l'isolement n'est pas qu'une question individuelle : il est aussi lié à l'aménagement de nos villes et de nos communes. Manque de bancs publics, éclairage insuffisant, transports peu accessibles, trottoirs difficiles à emprunter… Autant d'éléments qui peuvent renforcer le sentiment d'insécurité et replier les personnes âgées chez elles.Former un binôme, donner un peu de son temps, c'est donc bien plus qu'un geste de gentillesse. Cela permet de recréer de la mobilité, d'améliorer la santé physique, de lutter contre la dépression et certaines maladies chroniques, mais aussi de renforcer l'autonomie. C'est également un puissant levier contre l'âgisme — cette discrimination fondée sur l'âge - dans les deux sens : les plus jeunes déconstruisent leurs clichés sur les aînés, et inversement.À Bruxelles, la plateforme Samen Ensemble centralise cette expertise depuis sept ans. En Wallonie, un tel réseau structuré n'existe pas encore, mais les portes sont grandes ouvertes. L'équipe se dit prête à partager ses outils, son expérience et ses conseils avec toute association ou collectif souhaitant se lancer. Une invitation à essaimer, encore et toujours, des idées simples qui rendent la société plus solidaire.Vous aimez ce contenu ? Alors n'hésitez pas à vous abonner, à lui donner des étoiles et à partager ce podcast autour de vous. Ça nous aide à nous faire connaitre et à essaimer les idées constructives qui rendent le monde plus joli ! Une chronique signée Leslie Rijmenams à retrouver (aussi) sur Nostalgie et www.nostalgie.be

Jim and Sean discuss the recent Adelaide and Brisbane Film Festivals, plus the Asia Pacific Screen Awards. Plus: the 1998 retrospective concludes with a discussion of the best films of the year & inspired by the New York Times' recent poll, they share their votes for the Top 10 Films of the 21st Century. Films discussed include: Afternoons of Solitude, Silent Friend, Our Hero Balthazar, Happy Birthday. From 1998: Show Me Love (F**king Amal), Happiness, Festen, Run Lola Run, Shakespeare in Love, Live Fresh, The Truman Show, Head On, The Last Days of Disco & more. From the 21st Century: The Pianist, The Piano Teacher, Elle, Beginning, Leviathan, The Lives of Others, The Social Network, Suspiria, TÁR, La Chimera, 12 Years A Slave & more.

Does the mid-December energy feel louder and more frantic, while you just crave silence?Welcome to The Holiday Sanctuary, a special four-part series designed to ground your energy, protect your peace, and help you navigate this season on your own terms.Sunday evenings in December can feel heavy, and seeing images of "perfect" gatherings can make us feel incredibly lonely.In Day 1: Embracing Solitude & Finding Connection, we shift the narrative. We are reframing loneliness into restorative solitude, reminding you that even in the quiet, you are never truly alone.In this episode, you will experience:Heart Coherence Breathing: A powerful breathwork technique (Inhale 5, Exhale 5) to bridge the gap between your mind and emotions.The Golden Web Visualization: A guided journey to connect your inner light with thousands of others listening right now, weaving a web of support across the world.Affirmations for Belonging: Anchoring the belief that your solitude is a sanctuary, not a sadness.Whether you are on your own or surrounded by people but feeling misunderstood, this session offers a safe container to breathe and reconnect.Next Up: Join me tomorrow for Day 2, where we will learn the art of slowing down when the world tries to speed up.

Miracle On Route 34: Part 1 Ginny gets a wonderful Christmas surprise. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Author's Notes: Someone asked me to write a funny and erotic Christmas tale, but since I can't be normal, it is taking on a radical twist that I hope people will find amusing. I've tried to make Santa awesome but also give him some flaws that the ladies will find both charming and irksome all at once. I wasn't going to call it anything lame like 'Here Cums Santa Claus' (in spite of my love of Elvis) so I eventually settled on ripping off a classic and beloved Christmas movie, naming it 'Miracle On Rural Road 34'. Couldn't help myself with the 'Yes, Virginia' quip, of course. As for Superman, Oatmeal and the Easter Bunny, well, get used to more groaners like that, because I like them. Merry ho-ho and keep your stick on the ice! , Management Chapter 1. Ginny Hale sighed forlornly as she sat on her chesterfield in the dim room, the only light provided by the crackling fireplace and some scented candles spread around to make the house smell like gingerbread. She'd made gingerbread cookies earlier, but they were predictably burnt and now her kitchen smelled like a Christmas elf's ass. She took another sip of red wine from her oversized glass, unable to decide who or what to be mad at, the weather, for bringing this god-awful blizzard on Christmas Eve, her so-called friends for ditching her after she'd gone to all this work to put together a nice party, or herself for going crazy and buying this (admittedly nice) chateau way out here in the boondocks. Still relatively new to her negotiator position, Ginny had landed a huge deal for the company she worked for and the payout bonus was one of the biggest ever seen in-house. Though she had an office, she had often worked from her cramped apartment downtown, where a glorious chaos only she understood reigned. But the payout had been large enough for her to purchase a very pretty home in the country, not more than ninety minutes from work. Her boss was so pleased with the deal that he said she only had to come in once a week, to pick up whatever she needed to work on. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now she found she was quite lonely. Few people were will to put forth the effort to come out and visit her. In fact, only three had since the summer when she bought it. Hell, even her boy-toy, Chad from Accounting, could not be bothered and was now just fucking Lily in the secretary pool instead. Bing Crosby was singing 'White Christmas' to her while she moped. The big bay windows to her back porch showed the fury of the storm outside. Driving snow had been battering the countryside for two days now and her boss had called her to just stay safe and not try to come into the city. He was a nice old man and she liked him. He'd actually taken a chance and given her the job, after she'd fucked him. She hadn't invited him to her little soiree, because his miserable old bat of a wife was hovering around him constantly these days, certain he'd been tipping on her. But even without Old Man Reese, she'd invited upward of twenty people and none of them had shown. Not even Claire, her best supposed friend, had made it out. She was probably too busy being pinned and screwed by her boyfriend anyway, Guido or Nunzio or whatever his name was. Dean Martin came on, singing 'Marshmallow World'. Normally this was one of her favorites, but tonight it just reminded her that she was alone for Christmas. Again. With another sigh, she drank the rest of the wine in her glass and reached for the bottle, turning it over. It was empty. Damn. She'd have to open another one. She walked slowly into the kitchen, wearing her ratty old fox-themed footie pajamas, having decided that if she didn't have to dress up for anyone, she was dressing at all. She took a deep drink of spiked egg nog from the jug of it she'd prepared while she found another bottle of zinfandel and burped very loudly. She wrestled the cork off of the bottle and poured most of the contents into her oversized glass, muttering that she didn't have to answer to anyone about what she did, she was a big girl. She slumped back down on the couch while John Lennon asked her what she'd done for Christmas from the stereo system. "Up yours, John;" she said testily as she drank more wine. She stood unsteadily, blinking for a moment to try and clear her head. She might have had a bit of a wine fog going on, since she'd nearly polished off two bottles of Old Vine Zinfandel in under two hours. Convincing herself that walking was not a bad idea, she tottered over to the bay windows, reaching a hand out in front of herself to make sure it encountered the glass before her face did. "Will you look at that shit out there;" she muttered to no one in particular. After all, there was no one around to hear her. Well, almost no one. "Hi, Oatmeal," she said sweetly, grinning lopsidedly at the bearded dragon that sat in a terrarium near the bay doors. "Looks like you're my Christmas date; again;" The tiny lizard said nothing but assumed a darker shade of purplish brown. "Same to you too, bugface." Ginny muttered sourly, annoyed at being spurned by a reptile with a brain smaller than a sugared peanut. She lumbered back to the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to eat several pieces of the Turkish Delight she'd tried to make, but they were sticky and runny, most of the reddish-pink mess ending up stuck to the front of her pajamas. "Son of a fucking reindeer!" she spat, attempting to remove the pajamas, her sticky fingers having trouble with the zipper. She finally kicked the thing off and left it in a corner of the kitchen, now wearing nothing except her panties and a halter top. She stomped back into the spacious living room, thoroughly annoyed. While the music played, she looked around for something to do, taking another pull from the egg nog jug she'd brought with her. The hot tub. It sat near the bay windows, set into the floor and was large enough for five or six people. She'd been hoping that maybe a few people of the dozens she'd invited would show and maybe they could have a fun pool party. She'd even told everyone in the invitations to bring their swimsuits. But of course, no one showed. She was beginning to suspect she could live in Buckingham Fucking Palace and still no one would come to see her. This was, literally, the fifth Christmas she'd spent by herself. The timing for friends never worked out and her parents were always off in Monaco or some such place, avoiding the weather. Her mom had already called earlier that night, so she wouldn't hear any more from them for a few days now. She sighed yet again and pulled off her underthings, stepping into the water. She was drunker than she wanted to admit, though, missing her footing, squealing and tumbling into the tub with a splash. Ginny came to the surface, sputtering and hissing in outrage. Why couldn't anything work out? Oatmeal just stared at her impassively. "You win this time, gravity;" she growled, displeased with her inelegant entrance. Well, at least she'd been smart enough to put down the jug of nog before trying to get in. She turned on the jets and retrieved her beverage, taking another big pull as the tub rumbled to life. Ginny laid back her head against one of the padded rests and tried to relax, to let her frustrations go. She turned on the jets and allowed one to massage her lower back while sipping at a glass of wine. She tried to put the frustrations of the holiday behind her, to let go of the feelings of rejection and somehow not belonging. "Why did I but this new fucking home if no one was interested in visiting? Everyone said they thought it was so great, but months later, still no visitors. Do I really not matter that much?" It annoyed her to think not only that she was alone, but that doubtless most of the people who had ditched her were at home getting laid. Claire was doubtless face down and ass up on her bed, getting plowed from behind by Guido. Even Mr. Reese, the old geezer, was probably getting some, either from his wife or maybe one of his secretaries. She sighed heavily and sat up, putting her now-empty wine glass aside and deciding that just because she was alone on Christmas Eve didn't mean she wasn't owed at least one good orgasm. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the padded edge of the hot tub, positioning herself so that one of her jets, the one she'd named 'Juan', was right behind her. She felt the flow of water begin to caress her and she rested her head on her forearms as she wiggled further back, feeling the jet more strongly now as it pushed against her ass and her cunt. With a sigh, she found the perfect distance and pressed her face down into her arms, letting Juan work his magic. Water pressure massaged her cunt lips, strong enough to part them and to tease her clit, sending thrills through her. She shuddered and sighed loudly, forgetting, for now, how much men sucked. She bit the knuckle of her index finger, lost in reverie. God, if only it were a man fucking her. "Alone; on fucking Christmas; where's, ah!, where's the justice in that?" She was sweating now and panting as the relentless jets battered her nether tinglies, the sensations overwhelming her steadily. She clenched her teeth and her fists, straining as she fought to hold on a little longer. She moaned very loudly, her whole body shaking as Juan delivered a wonderful orgasm. She panted and groaned shamelessly, knowing that no one was around to see her in her pent-up, frustrated lust, expending it on her Jacuzzi jets. The scintillating lights behind her eyes, however, were over all too quickly and the climax subsided, replaced by a juddering sensitivity that made Juan's caress too much to bear. She collapsed against the edge of the hot tub, moving her ass away from the jet. "Alone; again;" She may have needed the orgasm, but it did nothing to improve her mood. It didn't help that the song 'This Christmas' by Shoes had begun playing as the cumming ended. When it finally felt like her legs would work again, she turned around and slumped into a corner of the tub, as far from Juan as possible. Ginny stayed still for some time, until her feet and fingers felt that annoying level of pruny that made everything awful to touch. With the heat of the water and all the alcohol she'd drunk, she was feeling rather light-headed, so she turned off the stereo and shut off the lights. She found a plate of her fucked-up and burnt gingerbread cookies and left them on a table near the fireplace along with the jug of nog before beginning to head upstairs to bed. "Yeah. Fuck this day. And fuck tomorrow too. Maybe if I stay drunk enough it'll just fly by. Fuck Christmas." The second floor was an open space in the middle, looking down onto the main floor. A set of stairs led up on either side and the bedrooms were spaced around the gallery. She'd loved the design when she bought it, but this only increased her frustration when no one ever came to visit. "Gorgeous fucking house; ten acres of beautiful nature filled with deer and ugly-ass wild turkeys; a fucking pond people could skate on; shit, I even found a patch of landrace back there! What's not to love about my new home? Why aren't people shitting themselves in jealousy?" She reached the master bedroom, sighing at how big it felt since she had no one to share it with. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her naked body and sighing. She was trim and fit, with nicely-sized boobs, she kept her cunt shaved smooth and her full lips were simply made to suck cock. Her skin was fair and even and her dark brown hair was long enough to pull on if you were fucking her ass or taking her from behind. So what the hell was wrong? The bed was certainly big enough for two (or maybe her and two guys who didn't mind getting close), but she plunked herself down into it and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the room to stop drunk-spinning. It took longer than she wanted it to, but things finally slowed down an she breathed deeply. She reached over with her hand and fumbled around inside the drawer of the nightstand. She finally withdrew an elegant glass dildo, a barely opaque white with bright red stripes curling around it to simulate a candy cane. It had been a Christmas gift from Claire, who had jokingly given it to her until she found a man for herself. That bitch. "Well, Frosty," she sighed, examining him. "Looks like it's you and me tomorrow. I promise to not get out of bed except to go to the bathroom or get more booze, okay? Because I'm here for you;" And with that she kissed the dildo and put it aside. She turned out her lamp and sighed deeply as she lay in the dark, waiting for sleep to take her. "Fuck Christmas;" A noise from downstairs. Her eyes snapped open. She was sure she'd heard something. Her heart pounded in her chest. She took deep breaths to try and calm herself, reasoning that she'd been drunk and it might just be hangover noises. Maybe just something like branches scraping on the roof or across the walls? Ginny felt a flush of anger and slowly rose, getting out of bed and putting on a plush yellow robe. There were definitely sounds downstairs. She grabbed her rape whistle and her high-school field hockey stick off the wall before quietly opening the door and proceeding out of the room. Her cheeks flushed with fear and anger. How dare someone invade her house? And in this fucking weather! "Burglars? Ruffians? Escaped cons?" "Well, at least if they see you they might have their way with you and break your dry spell." She shook the vile notion from her head, wondering where the hell that'd come from. Could she be that desperate to get laid? Ginny walked as quietly as she could, hearing noises on the roof. Raccoons? Looking to get in from the cold? Fucking trash pandas. She rounded the corner of the gallery and put her foot on the top step, her hockey stick ready. She crept down the stairs, still hearing the noises. They seemed to be coming from her living room. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to identify anything that might be amiss. Then she saw him, a symphony of red trimmed in white, the huge ass swaying back and forth as the intruder was bent over her at the base of her Christmas tree, doing God only knows what to it. He seemed to be humming to himself. She walked up silently until she was maybe ten feet away from him, her hockey stick over her shoulder, ready to swing. He didn't hear her or took no notice of her. "I don't want to hurt you," she growled through clenched teeth. "But you'd best get the fuck out of my house or I'll hit you so hard Google won't be able to find you." The person in red paused in their activities and then stood up slowly. After another moment's pause, they stood up and turned around slowly. He was slightly taller than average and quite a bit fatter than societal norms allowed. He had a fat face with dancing blue eyes and red cheeks. Beneath the tapered red hat was long, silvery-white hair and a very full beard and moustache. The intruder looked at her and grinned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked with a voice that could only be described as jolly. Ginny said nothing. She seemed to be rooted to the spot. She wanted to say something, anything, but she seemed to have been robbed of the power of speech. "W, who;" she finally managed to stammer. "Yes, Virginia," the visitor said quietly but pleasantly in a soothing voice. "There really is a Santa Claus." She blinked and shook her head, trying to articulate a coherent thought. The big man in red chuckled, clearly amused by her predicament. "Your egg nog was very good," he mentioned as he walked forward a little. "Your cookies needed a little work, but I appreciate the effort. Maybe a cookbook next year?" "Stay still!" she snapped, suddenly coming out of her stupor and holding the hockey stick behind her head as if she was winding up for a hit. "I'll deck you, old man!" "Oh, there's no need for that," he said cheerfully, totally unconcerned by her threat. "It's been a rough year for you, hasn't it, Ginny?" "Why do you know my name?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Of course I know it," the man claiming to be Santa said jovially. "I'd be pretty lousy at my job if I didn't, right?" "If you're really Santa," she said tightly, still not understanding why she hadn't knocked this guy's head off his shoulders yet. "Then what was I doing the night of October seventeenth last year?" He tilted his head to the side a little and pursed his lips. "Are you sure?" "C'mon, you haven't got all day." "Very well," he said, sighing. "You were sitting in McPhearson's Pub, waiting vainly for Greg from IT to show up, because you'd given him a blowjob in the bathroom earlier that day and promised him more. But he went off with Becky from Accounts that night instead of meeting up with you." She blushed furiously at the memory. "I; that wasn't the day I meant! I meant the sixteenth!" He shrugged. "You had the day off and were really frustrated. You slid a condom over that very field hockey stick and used it on yourself, just to see what it was like." Ginny dropped the stick very suddenly. "How the hell do you know that, you perv?" The man shrugged. "I know all about you, Ginny. And every other boy and girl in the world" "Don't give me that horseshit!" she hissed, glaring at him. "I had too many Christmases where I didn't get what I want to buy into that cockamamie story!" "Well, you weren't exactly the most exemplary child, were you?" he reasoned. "I mean, you weren't horrible, it's not like you were out kicking puppies into woodchippers, but you spent more time in the naughty column that the good column, didn't you?" "What did I ever do that was so naughty?" she demanded hotly, her fists bunched up at her sides. "You and your brother could get rather friendly, couldn't you?" the man calling himself Santa pointed out. She faltered for a moment. "Lots of siblings play doctor. And those atomic booty bombs where I kept jumping in the air and landing on him were just playful." "While naked?" Santa asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Ginny blushed. "But that wasn't what landed you on the naughty list," he added. "What got you blacklisted was that you lied about doing your homework or cleaning your room while you were messing around with your brother. Your mom and dad would ask you to do your math and you'd slip away to play doctor instead and tell them you'd finished your homework after. Lying is naughty, right?" "Woah, hold the phone here," she said loudly, holding her head as if she was suddenly dizzy from a revelation. She didn't seem to notice that her robe had opened slightly, exposing her cleavage. "Are you fucking kidding me? Fibbing to my parents kept me from getting the gifts I wanted?" "Were the rules unclear?" Santa asked. "I thought the songs on the subject were so easy to follow." Ginny pinched her eyes in exasperation and then scowled at him. "I'm drunk," she concluded, trying to convince herself none of this was real. "I'm drunker than Sarah Palin and you're not really here. I'm still in bed and this is all bullshit." Santa shrugged. "I was putting stuff under your tree until you arrived and enjoying the nog. I won't mind if you go back to bed." "No, you're not getting off that easily," she said in annoyance. "You broke into my house in the middle of the storm of the fucking century and I want answers, dammit!" He shrugged. "Fair enough. Ask away." Her eyes narrowed again. "Aren't you on kind of a time crunch? Unless I'm the last person on your delivery list, don't you still have a shit ton of houses to visit? Say, a few hundred million?" He waved it off. "I've got it covered, I promise. I have all the time in the world for you, Ginny. I always have." "What, so you sub-contract out?" she said snidely. "Got FedEx making the rounds for you? Or maybe your 'Elves'?" She mentioned the last bit with air quotes. "Goodness, this has been a bad year for you, hasn't it?" he said sympathetically. "But to answer your question, I am capable of being many places at once." "Oh, so now you're the Kwizatz-Haderach?" she asked archly. "Hey, it's not just cinnamon I put in my Christmas cider." Santa chuckled. "It's rather complicated to explain." "So do you, like, clone yourself?" she asked, her guard seeming to slowly come down. "No, not at all," he said, shaking his head. "It involves Cherenkov Radiation, a Holmes field, a Gellar field and, to quote a friend of mine, 'a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey; stuff.'" "So it's some sort of deep quantum shit?" she asked, her body finally relaxing. He nodded, smiling. "Yes, it's very temporal and quantum. I can be many places at once. It's why I don't have to pay for billions in window repairs every year by going supersonic around the world." "So even while you're talking to me, you're delivering presents?" she asked, the sheer depth of the conversation hitting her now. She walked over to a stool and sat on it. "Like I said, it's difficult to explain without breaking out the chalkboard and calculator," he answered. "The magnetic lines between the poles help, especially the one that emanates from the Fortress of Solitude." Ginny blinked. "Fortress of Solitude? As in Superman? You're friends with Superman?" "Of course not!" the jolly man laughed. "There's no such thing as Superman, silly, he's a comic book character. Had you going, though." "Holy shit, Santa's a troll," she exclaimed, looking at him in bewilderment. "Well, okay, let's assume that this is all real and not a vivid hallucination resulting from a brain tumor. If I've been such a brat all these years, how do I make up for it? How do I get off the naughty girl list?" "Well, a little restraint would be a start," Santa suggested. "I'm not saying go out and become a Carthusian nun or a Buddhist priestess or anything, but you might try laying off the rampant promiscuity." "Why is that so bad?" she demanded. "What's so wrong with wanting to get banged?" "Nothing," he said simply. "But inevitably you get yourself into some kind of weird situation and end up lying your behind off and lying is a naughty thing to do. So try keeping your legs bolted together a little more." "Really;" she said, clearly not impressed. "Celibacy lessons from Santa Claus. Now I've heard everything." "According to my report here and speaking frankly, it's taken guys a lot less attractive than me a lot less effort to get you out of your clothes." Santa mentioned. "This coming from a guy who could clearly use a few P90-X sessions!" she shot back hotly, standing up, her robe opening further as she stomped toward him. He looked down at himself for a moment and guffawed. "Oh, right, I keep forgetting about that; hang on;" The man held his hands out to his sides and began to glow. The luminous display lit up the room progressively and Ginny held her hand in front of her face when it became too bright to look at for several seconds. When the light finally died away, leaving them once again in the softly lit living room, Ginny gaped in shock at what she saw. He was tall, powerfully built, with chiseled muscles, an eight pack and flawless, healthy skin. He'd removed his coat but the red pants remained, stretched tight over muscular thighs. Long, wavy, copper-colored hair fell past his shoulders and the full beard was reddish-gold. The sapphire-blue eyes stared down at her, still glittering with mirth. "Holy Jesus on a pogo stick;" she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper. "You're a total lumbersexual;" "This is what I really look like," he said, spreading his hands out to the sides and showing her his body. His chest rippled as the muscles flexed with the motion. "But kids react to the fat old man disguise better." "I'll bet mothers don't," she murmured, coming forward as if compelled and reaching out to touch his chest and washboard abs. "It's like you're Photo-shopped." He smiled as her hands caressed his abs. "You make me want to not get off the naughty list." "I think I know what you really want for Christmas;" he said slyly. Ginny paused and looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" "No, I can't lie." the man in red pants replied. "I thought it was Superman who couldn't lie." "Well, the writers had to get that idea from somewhere, I guess." Santa mused. "In any event, if you want, you could end up on the good girl list by being rather naughty." She stared at him. "So; get laid by Santa for Christmas?" He shrugged. "There might be some other goodies in the bag for you, but I think we both know what Ginny really wants and needs for Christmas." "This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!" she thought to herself, wrestling with her sensibilities. "If this is all just a dream, then I can fuck hunky Santa and have no regrets. If this is real, I can fuck sexy Santa and remember it in the morning! It's win-win!" "Well, this is super-easy," she declared. "Santa, I want you to fuck my brains out for Christmas." "With pleasure, Ginny!" he said, laughing merrily. "Whatever you like, however you want it. I have to keep the kiddies happy." "Good, but just don't say 'kiddies' anymore, because that's kinda creepy," she said, throwing her caution to the wind. She knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on the oversized silver belt buckle and undoing it. Letting it drop, she put her fingers on the front of his pants, caressing them over the crotch. Her mouth went dry. "That'd better not be a secondary present sack you're teasing me with;" Ginny hooked her fingers into the top of the velvety pants and pulled them down, revealing his cock. She drew in her breath slowly, her eyes widening. "Jesus," she muttered. "You're hung like a fat kid's Christmas stocking;" "Thanks, I make due." Santa said cheerfully, watching her admire his cock. "By the way, shouldn't I call you something else?" she asked, looking up at him while her hand reached up to take his huge shaft, wrapping around it, barely. "I mean, most people call you Santa Claus, but isn't your name Nick or Kris or something?" He shrugged again, grinning. "Nick, Kris, Klaus, Pelznickel, Joulupukki, Kanakaloka, Dun Che Lao Ren, Weihnachtsmann, Swiety Mikolaj, Hoteiosho, Jultomten, I don't mind, Ginny. I just like hearing you say my name the way you think of me." "Hmm, Santa;" she replied, smiling as she stroked her hand along his shaft, eyeing it hungrily. How the hell was she going to fit that all in her mouth, forget her aching cunt? "Ah, don't use that word," he chided, holding up a finger. "Some words are still naughty, even when you're an adult." "Stay out of my mind then, creeper." Ginny said as she leaned forward and swirled her tongue around the fat head of his cock. She flicked it around the tip and then slowly took it inside her mouth, tongue rolling against it. "The hell? How can his cock taste like mint?" "Just wait til you taste my cum." Santa said, leering. "Fine, but it better not taste like turkey gravy or we're gonna box." Ginny said as she pulled her mouth back for a moment. She pumped her hand gently along the shaft, studying her quarry intently. It was definitely the biggest cock she'd ever taken on, and the best-tasting. She'd been experiencing trippy magic all evening, maybe she could fit this monster in her mouth this one night; She put the head back in her mouth and relaxed, slowly pushing down the shaft. She moaned as she felt him slide to the back of her mouth and then to her throat. She felt him tremble and lay a huge but gentle hand on the back of her head. "Holy shit; I'm deep-throating Santa Claus;" Ginny took a deep breath through her nose and then tried to relax. Her whole body was tingling with excitement and the whole minty cock thing was throwing her off. Her tongue undulated along the underside of his shaft while the fingers of one hand formed a ring around the base of his cock and the other cupped his balls, fondling them. Ginny was proud of her cocksucking skills and if there was anyone she ever needed to impress with them (aside from her 11th Grade math teacher), it was probably Santa. She calmed herself and began pulling her mouth back along his length, humming and letting her lips vibrate softly on his sensitive skin. "Now I know why Mister Bondi gave you that A in math," Santa chuckled. "You're a very naughty girl, Virginia." "Hmm, only for you, Santa baby;" she cooed as she pulled her mouth off his cock long enough to respond, stroking slowly and swirling her tongue around the head again. She then slid back down the entire length, moaning in pleasure. She could feel her nipples getting hard and her cunt was very, very wet beneath her robe. Both his hands were on the back of her head now and holding her gently but firmly. She began to slowly bob back and forth, thrilled at how she was able to take this enormous beast of a cock all the way in her mouth. Sure, maybe there was some weird physics involved that compressed space and time or some shit, but she didn't care and he certainly didn't seem to mind. "Hmm, very good, Virginia;" he said softly, stroking her hair. No one ever called her Virginia and she didn't know why it gave her a tingle when he did. His cock was very full and very hard now, like a pulsing iron rod covered in mint-flavored velvet. She almost giggled at the thought of how crazy this all was. She really hoped it wasn't a dream. Her thumb began to squeeze along the underside of his cock as her hand followed her mouth up and down his length. The shaft glistened wetly and the mint was making her drool. She undid her robe and let it fall away, the air of the room kissing her flushed skin. Her hands now took hold of his powerful thighs and she began moving back and forth along his cock more quickly. She could feel his hands flexing in her long, dark hair, caressing her skin. Breathing through her nose, she moaned as she sucked ardently, her cunt almost aching with desire. She was hoping he would last long enough to fuck her when he went rigid suddenly and groaned, gripping her head tightly and his hips shuddering. Ginny's eyes widened as she felt him began to cum inside her mouth, spurting strongly. She began swallowing hastily, almost in a panic as Santa pumped his hips against her face. "Holy shit! Fucking eggnog?" He kept cumming and she was sure she might actually drown when he pulled his huge cock out of her mouth and pumped it furiously in his hand, spattering her tits and stomach with his glistening load. She'd never seen so much cum in her life. It tingled on her skin. Finally, Santa relaxed, allowing Ginny to put her mouth back around his cock and suck the rest of his cum from him. He was sighing and breathing rather heavily, apparently having enjoyed himself. She eventually released him and smiled up at him wickedly. "So," she cooed, winking while she gently pumped his cock with her hand. "Am I back on the good girl list?" "Oh, I'd think so," he said, grinned. "But it's not like I've given you your whole present yet." "Jeez, you can still go?" she asked almost in disbelief but also delighted. She really needed to be fucked hard now. "Your cock taste like mint, your cum tastes like nog, your ass probably tastes like hot cocoa or nutmeg and you can keep it up all night?" "Up all night is kind of my thing, at least once a year." Santa said cheerfully. "So how would you like for me to give you the rest of your present, Virginia?" "Well, golly, Santa," she mused, making a show of thinking while she stroked his cock. "Since you seem to be the gift that keeps on giving, how about we just wing it?" He nodded and she stood up, keeping hold of his cock and gently led him over to the large chesterfield, hoping it would hold his rather muscular frame. She knelt on it, resting her arms along the raised back and smiled at him, wiggling her behind. She wouldn't believe how wet her cunt was. "You gonna hurry down my chimney, Santa-baby?" she asked, smiling slyly. "I can't believe you just said that!" he laughed jovially. He may not have been older, fatter Santa, but the laugh still definitely suited him. He stepped up behind her and took gentle hold of her hips. She could feel him press against her ass and she shivered in anticipation. He slid his massive cock up and down between her ass cheeks, teasing her until she was writhing in desperation. He seemed to know instinctively what she loved most. Which only made sense, since he was Santa. "Ready, Virginia?" he asked as he pressed the huge mushroom head against her sticky cunt. She nodded eagerly, unwilling to speak. He slid the head in, parting her lips and penetrating her. She groaned loudly as he began to stretch her inner walls. With a slow, steady push of his hips, he pushed the entire length of his cock deep inside her. It robbed her of her breath, she'd never felt so full in her life, even that one time she'd been so horny she'd fucked her parent's bedpost. "Ah; uh;" she gasped, eyes wide. The sensations were like nothing she'd ever experienced. His cock completely filled her to a delightful stretch that didn't hurt except in the good way. His iron shaft throbbed in time with her heartbeat. It was wonderfully warm but also strangely cool all at once, tingling, like mint again. How the hell could her cunt taste peppermint? "Language, Virginia;" he chided again as he pressed in just a little bit further. By right his cockhead should have bruising her brainstem, but there was no doubt some weird physics shit involved that she decided not to think about. She was getting fucked by Santa, after all. She pressed her forehead against the back of the couch and tried squeezing her cunt around his titan cock or pressing back against him, squirming her ass against his hips. She shuddered in delight, loving how he felt inside her. His hands reached under her body and squeezed and massaged her tits, sending delicious thrills through her. He began to move slowly back and forth, pulling back until just the tip was inside her and pushing in steadily, almost robbing her of breath. She began to feel like a blacksmith's bellows very quickly. The feel of his cock sliding inside her, stretching her and touching deep inside in ways she hadn't known were possible; "Oh my god;" she gasped, fingers digging into the back of the couch. "You're tearing me apart and I love it;" "Only the best for my Virginia," he said, his ruddy cheeks taking on a flush tone as he fucked her. Her fingers squeezed the meat of her thighs and hips or flexed on her ass cheeks. His heavy balls slapped against her cunt as he drove inside her. Strong yet gentle, forceful and commanding yet accommodating. She felt dominated yet exalted somehow. His hand wrapped in her hair and she groaned loudly as he pulled on it, craning her neck. She shuddered in pleasure, feeling her spine almost accordion as he thrust inside while pulling her head back. Her could feel the pulse of his cock through her whole body. Her nails scratched along the couch, almost clawing it. "Uh, you're gonna make me cum so fucking hard;" she wailed, feeling the sweat forming on her skin. "Oh my gawd;" "You're going to make me cum hard too," he panted, thrusting deep inside, thumping his hips against her ass. "You feel wonderful and tight, Virginia;" "Oh, God, he's gonna cum in me;" she realized. "Santa's gonna fucking cum in me and he's not wearing anything! Will my birth control work? Shit, will my kids always smell like mint?" "Oh, God, cum in me!" she panted, thrusting herself back against him and grinding shamelessly. "Fucking cum in me, Santa!" "Ya want me to cum in you?" he hissed, his body beginning to tremble. It felt like his cock was getting bigger inside her. "Want my cum in you?" "God, yes!" Ginny squeaked, clenching her teeth. "Fucking cum in me and make me scream!" They strained against one another desperately and then she cried out as a massive orgasm crashed over her. It battered her senses as she felt his hot-yet-tingly-cool cum bathing her insides relentlessly. Her cunt was making greedy sucking sounds as she came, her whole body shuddering almost uncontrollably. She squeezed and clenched and rippled her tight tunnel round him, reveling in the way he stretched and penetrated her ever more deeply. She collapsed against the chesterfield, panting heavily, her body drenched in sweat. His massive, hard cock was still deep inside her, pinning her to him. She felt like she was made of lead, an exquisite exhaustion while pleasure crawled over her languidly. That was beyond anything she had ever experienced. But he didn't seem to be done with her. His powerful hands took hold of Ginny and turned her around so she was squatting on the couch, her knees spread wide and her arms slung across the high back. She looked up at him in weary astonishment as he nestled himself between her legs and pressed his cock against her sopping cunt again. "Ah!" she wailed as he slid deep inside her again, his huge cock splitting her wide. Her nails dug into the couch again and she clenched her teeth as she sucked in her breath. Ginny tried to regulate her breathing while Santa began sliding in and out slowly, looking down at her with those penetrating blue eyes. "Jesus," she grunted, feeling almost like a rag doll in his hands, which gripped her hips. "Gonna fucking kill me with that thing!" "Oh, let's hope not," he replied, thrusting into her strongly. "I'm nowhere near done with you." She gazed up at him, trembling as he fucked her good and hard. She bit her lip as he squeezed her thighs, before moving his hands up to squeeze her tits, pinching her nipples. She groaned shamelessly as the delicious sting electrified her senses. She tried to squeeze herself around him, baffled by how big he felt inside her. She gasped and whimpered as he slapped her cunt lightly. She reached forward and raked her nails over his powerful chest, leaving red marks along the defined muscles. She ground her hips against him wantonly, thrilling to the look of pleasure on this face. "Uh, fuckin' wreck me;" she gasped, feeling another massive climax building inside her. "Make me cum on that beautiful cock, Santa!" "I'll take 'Things Virginia Never Thought She'd Ever Hear Herself Say' for a thousand, Alex!" he laughed. He reached down and took her ass her hands and pulled her closer, smiling warmly yet wickedly into her eyes as she sank further onto his cock, which penetrated her to the deepest depths yet. She could feel the head pressing against her womb. It didn't hurt, but she felt fuller and more stretched than ever. She felt him squeeze her ass cheeks while he thrust into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight, bumping up and down on his powerful thighs. She moaned loudly and bit his shoulder, trying not to shriek. She tried to squeeze herself around him again, finding that she could barely control her muscles, let alone fuck. She bit down as the warmth spread through her, tears of pleasure in her eyes. He thumped his hips against her even more strongly and they strained against one another. Then he growled and released himself, pumping her once again full of his tingling cum. She shuddered and cried out loudly, her head spinning from the unreal ecstasy. Crushing herself to him, Ginny held on desperately, like a ship battered by an unrelenting storm. They both slumped onto the couch, breathing heavily. She felt small and almost cocooned in his embrace. She was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat and could feel the thrilling tingle of his cum trickling out of her cunt. It wouldn't be a stain on her couch, it was a mark of honor. Their hearts pounded in rhythm as the orgasm passed over them and slowly flowed away. "Holy shit;" she whispered, her body still limp in his arms. "I think you've ruined me for sex. I should be mad;" "You have to admit, it makes sense that I'm better at gift-giving than anyone else on the planet." Santa reasoned, smiling and stroking her hair while she sat in his lap. "I'd say you were a little pent up there." "Mild understatement," she moaned, finally raising her head and smiling up at him. "Thank you, first of all. That was the best thing I've ever felt in my life." "I aim to please," he said cheerfully, caressing his thumb across her cheek and enjoying the shining look in her eyes. "Kinda my thing, after all." "So," Ginny purred, walking to fingers up his broad chest. "Is there a Mrs. Claus?" He shrugged. "There has been, of course." She paused suddenly and looked up at him, her smile replaced by a deadpan look. "What do you mean, there has been?" He seemed somewhat confused by her change in demeanor. "Well, there has been a few in the past, of course, there was Seeki first, then there was Ahoop, followed by Annalina, then Layla, Martha, Juliana, Gretchen and Jessica, Santarina, Kasey, Mary;" "I see," she said stonily. "You've had more wives than Elizabeth Taylor had husbands." "Well, to be fair, they've been spread over a long period of time." Santa replied. "And they were all special to me." "So then I'm not special." Ginny said flatly. "Well of course you are," he said, not understanding her mood swing. "You're my Virginia." "And Becky down the street is your Becky, and Sarah in the blue house is your Sarah and Hilda in Dusseldorf is your Hilda," she concluded. "Everyone's equally special to you, aren't they?" He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I'm not being fair," she sighed. "I just; well, I thought maybe this; ya know, tonight, was truly special. And clearly you're not good at lying." "Well, no, not at all." Santa agreed, still holding her and wondering how he could comfort her. "I can't lie." "Like, literally can't?" she asked, now curious more than anything. "It's part of your genetic makeup that you can't lie?" "No, nothing like that," he admitted. "But after spending centuries with kids and teaching them to always tell the truth, I haven't tried telling a lie in so long I don't even know how to do it." "You don't know how to lie?" she mused. "If I did, it wouldn't be the least bit believable," he said. "Like, if I said right now that your breath smells wonderful and not like old eggnog and vomit, I somehow doubt you'd believe my lie." "No shit," Ginny replied, giving him a stony look. "You're a horrible liar. You've got the subtlety of a cement truck. Good thing you're Santa and don't have to date to charm a girl." He held her close, hugging her tight to comfort her. She sighed deeply, still impaled on his hard cock, which showed no sign of abating. "God, I can't believe you've still got wood after cumming like a fire hydrant three times," she said, her mood softening. She was having the best sex of her life, she reminded herself not to ruin it by being crazy. "How long can you keep going?" He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "How long do you need me to?" "Actually, it doesn't surprise me that's your answer." Ginny said, smirking. "If you've got the time, I've got another itch that needs scratching." He grinned. "So you haven't broken in that hot tub yet, have you?" "Oh, Santa;" she purred, leaning in and biting his earlobe. "Like you don't make me wet already." He picked her up and carried her toward the Jacuzzi, deftly turning it on with his foot and bringing it rumbling to life. He stepped down into the churning water, setting her one of the seats. As he stood up, she leaned forward and hungrily took his enormous cock into her mouth, sucking ardently. She moved forward and knelt in the water, her hands on his hips again or stroking his balls. He picked her up bodily and turned her upside. Ginny squeaked in surprise at first but found his hips in front of her and began sucking again on his tool without delay. He buried his face in her cunt, tongue snaking deep inside her and she groaned gutturally, Holding her in place with one powerful hand, her teased her taint and then pressed a finger into her ass. "Jesus!" she gasped, almost choking on his cock as he wormed the finger down into her tight tunnel. "Oh, fuck! Your finger is bigger than some dicks I've fucked!" She attacked his cock again eagerly, bobbing back and forth like her life depended on it. She squirmed in his grip as he lashed her cunt with his tongue and fingered her ass. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and her knees locked around his neck. His cock throbbed in her mouth, still thrilling her with its unique and incredible taste. He turned her around again and paid her on the edge of the hot tub, spreading her legs wide. She looked on wantonly as he pushed his tongue back inside her again. He gripped her thighs to hold her in place and she groaned and squirmed, squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples. Her breath came in ragged gasps as he drove her to the limit of her sensations. Ginny shook and thrashed as she cried out loudly, cumming on his face. He didn't let up, lapping at her essence eagerly. She lay like a dead thing for several seconds before her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes opened, gazing back at him. She couldn't feel her limbs, just floating on a tingling ocean of deep colors. Santa looked up at her and smiled, pulling his tongue out of her cunt and kissing her clit gently. She shivered at the touch. "One hole left, Santa," she breathed, her body glistening. "Got any left in you to perfect my Christmas?" "Always for you, Virginia." Santa said warmly, standing and raising her gently into a sitting position. He settled down into the water on one of the seats and then pulled her onto his lap, facing away from him. She moved her hips around until she found his rock-hard cock, waiting for her. She placed her puckered knot against it, giggling as she thought about what he was about to do to her. She took his shaft in her hand and held it steady while she sank down, very slowly. Ginny gasped and shivered as the head pushed aside the tight ring of muscle, popping inside her. Then she sighed as she lowered herself, feeling his massive cock stretching her tight tunnel wide. God, she felt so full it was unreal. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her ass cheeks pressed to his lap. He was all the way inside her ass and her held her closed as she settled back against him, purring in sensual pleasure. "Umm, it's never felt this good in my ass before," she said softly, her arms reaching back to curl around his neck. She gyrated slowly on his lap, moaning softly. "A gal could get used to this." His muscular arms wrapped around her and caressed Ginny's body, massaging her tits. She loved how she felt pinned to him. She had finally found the measure of her body and began to squeeze her tight ass around his cock. She squirmed in slow circles on his lap, wishing she had some music to fuck him to. Her stereo system suddenly came on and began playing 'It's Cold Outside'. She giggled and squeezed his neck gently at his thoughtfulness. "You think of everything, don't you?" she purred, lost in her pleasure. "I can't wait to make you cum again." He smiled wickedly and pulled gently on her nipples, causing her to groan at the welcome sting. She pressed her ass back into his lap, squeezing again around his throbbing shaft. The water bubbled and churned around her waist, the heat leaving her skin shining. She began to pant as she moved her hips faster, stopping the circular motions and started to move up and down, his cock sliding in and out of her. Santa took hold of her hips and let her bounce on his lap. Ginny leaned forward, gasping as she fondled her tits, overcome with a liquid heat as his cock impaled her faster and faster. Water splashed around them as the fucking took on an almost frantic pace. Ginny had never felt anything in her ass like this before, nothing even close to this good. She could very easily become an addict. "Uh, fuck!" she grunted, slamming her ass down on him while one hand snaked down and began massaging her cunt and clit. His hands steadied her and helped moved her up and down. She could feel his hips trembling beneath her, his fingers flexing and squeezing her skin. Her panting became a long, drawn-out keening. She clenched her teeth, shuddering and straining as she tried to prolong the fucking; Ginny screamed and pushed herself back against his massive chest violently, thrashing as she clenched his cock inside her ass while he came. His cream flooded inside her, the unreal hot-cool tingling transporting her. He growled in her ear, almost crushing her comparatively tiny frame against himself. She collapsed, utterly exhausted, her chest rising and falling as the world spun around her. She felt him holding her gently, caressing her body in unique ways that seemed to; regulate her blood flow and nerve sensations, making the post-orgasmic bliss she was feeling last as long as possible. She felt herself smile and hum at his consideration, understanding this this is who he was and what he was meant to do. Ginny then did something she almost never did during sex, she leaned her head back, pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply and with great affection. She held it for as long as she could and then sank back into his embrace, sighing in contentment. "Wish you were advertising for a Mrs. Claus at the moment," she said softly. "I could get used to this." "I like things the way they are," he replied, hugging her. "Every year I get to reward you for being a good girl. What could be better than that?" "True, I guess," Ginny agreed. "I'm only human, all this sex could kill me." "Hey, I'm human too, you know," he chuckled. "Just because I'm immeasurably older than you and subject to quantum laws even my smartest elf couldn't explain doesn't mean I'm a member of some other species." "Okay, that's fair, although I'd still fuck you if you were an alien or some extra-dimensional being." Ginny admitted. "You've come in me a lot tonight, daddy. Do I need to” "No," he said cheerfully. "I'm not sterile, but you can't get pregnant unless I decide you will and I've never allowed it." "I wonder what a Santa kid would be like," she mused. "More like you or the mom?" "No idea," he confessed. "There's not exactly a manual, so I've never taken a chance." She slowly leaned forward and began to rise, shivering as she slid off his long cock and it popped out of her. She knelt and turned around to face him, not sure she could stand yet, looking up at his still hard cock and giggled, pressing her finger against the head. "Well, I think you can take him off duty, sir," she said sweetly. "I'm pretty sure that I'm all fucked out for the night, if not the whole season." He chuckled and let his cock soften, looking into her eyes and caressing his cheek. "Hopefully that was what you needed for Christmas." "Definitely, Santa." Ginny said, giggling. "Is it greedy to want the same present again next year?" "Not at all," he replied, grinning. "It cuts down on elf-labor hours if I can give people a gift mysteriously." Santa paused in speaking, going silent and looking around, as if listening for something. Neither of them touched the controls, but the motor for the jets turned off and all that could be heard was the howling roar of the winter storm outside. Ginny looked at him in confusion, wondering why his features hardened and a scowl crossed his normally jovial face. "That's no storm," he said in a low, growling voice. "Not a regular one, anyway." "What does that mean?" she asked, his reaction worrying her for reasons she couldn't readily explain. What the hell was a 'not regular' storm, according to Santa, or anyone else for that matter? He stood up and strode out of the hot tub, taking her by the hand and pulling her out with him. Their naked bodies glistened with water but this was the farthest thing from her mind. "What's going on?" she asked, his consternation beginning to frighten her now. She watched as he tossed her the robe she'd been wearing earlier and then started pulling on his pants and sturdy black boots. "It's just a winter storm! Isn't it?" "I wish that were true," he replied, his expression grim. "Listen to me very carefully, Virginia. I'll need you to follow me instructions precisely. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Okay, but” "Good," he said, cutting her off, his eyes flashing. "It's very important to your safety." "Can you at least tell me what's happening?" she pleaded. "Krampus." Santa muttered darkly as he wrapped bright red straps around his wrists, tightening them. "I should've been more careful." "What's Krampus?" she asked, going pale and she paused in putting on her robe, one of her tits hanging out. "Krampus isn't a what, Krampus is a who," he said, his eyes scanning the layout of her expansive living room. "He's also called Black Pete in some places and legend says he's supposed to be my evil henchman who punishes wicked children." "I take it that's not true, then?" she asked, looking around like he did, wondering what he was searching for. "Not even close," he growled. "Pardon my French, but Krampus is an evil sonofabitch. He was, at one time long ago, my dedicated helper, but he turned down the path of darkness, becoming twisted and diabolic. Forget punishing children, he wants to destroy Christmas, like it never happened." "What's that got to do with us here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Can he reach us in this storm?" "This storm is his doing, I recognize it now," Santa said, striding over to his huge Christmas bag and beginning to rummage in it. "A massive storm always precedes his arrival. It can be mistaken for a regular winter storm if you're not paying

Miracle On Route 34: Part 1 Ginny gets a wonderful Christmas surprise. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Author's Notes: Someone asked me to write a funny and erotic Christmas tale, but since I can't be normal, it is taking on a radical twist that I hope people will find amusing. I've tried to make Santa awesome but also give him some flaws that the ladies will find both charming and irksome all at once. I wasn't going to call it anything lame like 'Here Cums Santa Claus' (in spite of my love of Elvis) so I eventually settled on ripping off a classic and beloved Christmas movie, naming it 'Miracle On Rural Road 34'. Couldn't help myself with the 'Yes, Virginia' quip, of course. As for Superman, Oatmeal and the Easter Bunny, well, get used to more groaners like that, because I like them. Merry ho-ho and keep your stick on the ice! , Management Chapter 1. Ginny Hale sighed forlornly as she sat on her chesterfield in the dim room, the only light provided by the crackling fireplace and some scented candles spread around to make the house smell like gingerbread. She'd made gingerbread cookies earlier, but they were predictably burnt and now her kitchen smelled like a Christmas elf's ass. She took another sip of red wine from her oversized glass, unable to decide who or what to be mad at, the weather, for bringing this god-awful blizzard on Christmas Eve, her so-called friends for ditching her after she'd gone to all this work to put together a nice party, or herself for going crazy and buying this (admittedly nice) chateau way out here in the boondocks. Still relatively new to her negotiator position, Ginny had landed a huge deal for the company she worked for and the payout bonus was one of the biggest ever seen in-house. Though she had an office, she had often worked from her cramped apartment downtown, where a glorious chaos only she understood reigned. But the payout had been large enough for her to purchase a very pretty home in the country, not more than ninety minutes from work. Her boss was so pleased with the deal that he said she only had to come in once a week, to pick up whatever she needed to work on. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now she found she was quite lonely. Few people were will to put forth the effort to come out and visit her. In fact, only three had since the summer when she bought it. Hell, even her boy-toy, Chad from Accounting, could not be bothered and was now just fucking Lily in the secretary pool instead. Bing Crosby was singing 'White Christmas' to her while she moped. The big bay windows to her back porch showed the fury of the storm outside. Driving snow had been battering the countryside for two days now and her boss had called her to just stay safe and not try to come into the city. He was a nice old man and she liked him. He'd actually taken a chance and given her the job, after she'd fucked him. She hadn't invited him to her little soiree, because his miserable old bat of a wife was hovering around him constantly these days, certain he'd been tipping on her. But even without Old Man Reese, she'd invited upward of twenty people and none of them had shown. Not even Claire, her best supposed friend, had made it out. She was probably too busy being pinned and screwed by her boyfriend anyway, Guido or Nunzio or whatever his name was. Dean Martin came on, singing 'Marshmallow World'. Normally this was one of her favorites, but tonight it just reminded her that she was alone for Christmas. Again. With another sigh, she drank the rest of the wine in her glass and reached for the bottle, turning it over. It was empty. Damn. She'd have to open another one. She walked slowly into the kitchen, wearing her ratty old fox-themed footie pajamas, having decided that if she didn't have to dress up for anyone, she was dressing at all. She took a deep drink of spiked egg nog from the jug of it she'd prepared while she found another bottle of zinfandel and burped very loudly. She wrestled the cork off of the bottle and poured most of the contents into her oversized glass, muttering that she didn't have to answer to anyone about what she did, she was a big girl. She slumped back down on the couch while John Lennon asked her what she'd done for Christmas from the stereo system. "Up yours, John;" she said testily as she drank more wine. She stood unsteadily, blinking for a moment to try and clear her head. She might have had a bit of a wine fog going on, since she'd nearly polished off two bottles of Old Vine Zinfandel in under two hours. Convincing herself that walking was not a bad idea, she tottered over to the bay windows, reaching a hand out in front of herself to make sure it encountered the glass before her face did. "Will you look at that shit out there;" she muttered to no one in particular. After all, there was no one around to hear her. Well, almost no one. "Hi, Oatmeal," she said sweetly, grinning lopsidedly at the bearded dragon that sat in a terrarium near the bay doors. "Looks like you're my Christmas date; again;" The tiny lizard said nothing but assumed a darker shade of purplish brown. "Same to you too, bugface." Ginny muttered sourly, annoyed at being spurned by a reptile with a brain smaller than a sugared peanut. She lumbered back to the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to eat several pieces of the Turkish Delight she'd tried to make, but they were sticky and runny, most of the reddish-pink mess ending up stuck to the front of her pajamas. "Son of a fucking reindeer!" she spat, attempting to remove the pajamas, her sticky fingers having trouble with the zipper. She finally kicked the thing off and left it in a corner of the kitchen, now wearing nothing except her panties and a halter top. She stomped back into the spacious living room, thoroughly annoyed. While the music played, she looked around for something to do, taking another pull from the egg nog jug she'd brought with her. The hot tub. It sat near the bay windows, set into the floor and was large enough for five or six people. She'd been hoping that maybe a few people of the dozens she'd invited would show and maybe they could have a fun pool party. She'd even told everyone in the invitations to bring their swimsuits. But of course, no one showed. She was beginning to suspect she could live in Buckingham Fucking Palace and still no one would come to see her. This was, literally, the fifth Christmas she'd spent by herself. The timing for friends never worked out and her parents were always off in Monaco or some such place, avoiding the weather. Her mom had already called earlier that night, so she wouldn't hear any more from them for a few days now. She sighed yet again and pulled off her underthings, stepping into the water. She was drunker than she wanted to admit, though, missing her footing, squealing and tumbling into the tub with a splash. Ginny came to the surface, sputtering and hissing in outrage. Why couldn't anything work out? Oatmeal just stared at her impassively. "You win this time, gravity;" she growled, displeased with her inelegant entrance. Well, at least she'd been smart enough to put down the jug of nog before trying to get in. She turned on the jets and retrieved her beverage, taking another big pull as the tub rumbled to life. Ginny laid back her head against one of the padded rests and tried to relax, to let her frustrations go. She turned on the jets and allowed one to massage her lower back while sipping at a glass of wine. She tried to put the frustrations of the holiday behind her, to let go of the feelings of rejection and somehow not belonging. "Why did I but this new fucking home if no one was interested in visiting? Everyone said they thought it was so great, but months later, still no visitors. Do I really not matter that much?" It annoyed her to think not only that she was alone, but that doubtless most of the people who had ditched her were at home getting laid. Claire was doubtless face down and ass up on her bed, getting plowed from behind by Guido. Even Mr. Reese, the old geezer, was probably getting some, either from his wife or maybe one of his secretaries. She sighed heavily and sat up, putting her now-empty wine glass aside and deciding that just because she was alone on Christmas Eve didn't mean she wasn't owed at least one good orgasm. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the padded edge of the hot tub, positioning herself so that one of her jets, the one she'd named 'Juan', was right behind her. She felt the flow of water begin to caress her and she rested her head on her forearms as she wiggled further back, feeling the jet more strongly now as it pushed against her ass and her cunt. With a sigh, she found the perfect distance and pressed her face down into her arms, letting Juan work his magic. Water pressure massaged her cunt lips, strong enough to part them and to tease her clit, sending thrills through her. She shuddered and sighed loudly, forgetting, for now, how much men sucked. She bit the knuckle of her index finger, lost in reverie. God, if only it were a man fucking her. "Alone; on fucking Christmas; where's, ah!, where's the justice in that?" She was sweating now and panting as the relentless jets battered her nether tinglies, the sensations overwhelming her steadily. She clenched her teeth and her fists, straining as she fought to hold on a little longer. She moaned very loudly, her whole body shaking as Juan delivered a wonderful orgasm. She panted and groaned shamelessly, knowing that no one was around to see her in her pent-up, frustrated lust, expending it on her Jacuzzi jets. The scintillating lights behind her eyes, however, were over all too quickly and the climax subsided, replaced by a juddering sensitivity that made Juan's caress too much to bear. She collapsed against the edge of the hot tub, moving her ass away from the jet. "Alone; again;" She may have needed the orgasm, but it did nothing to improve her mood. It didn't help that the song 'This Christmas' by Shoes had begun playing as the cumming ended. When it finally felt like her legs would work again, she turned around and slumped into a corner of the tub, as far from Juan as possible. Ginny stayed still for some time, until her feet and fingers felt that annoying level of pruny that made everything awful to touch. With the heat of the water and all the alcohol she'd drunk, she was feeling rather light-headed, so she turned off the stereo and shut off the lights. She found a plate of her fucked-up and burnt gingerbread cookies and left them on a table near the fireplace along with the jug of nog before beginning to head upstairs to bed. "Yeah. Fuck this day. And fuck tomorrow too. Maybe if I stay drunk enough it'll just fly by. Fuck Christmas." The second floor was an open space in the middle, looking down onto the main floor. A set of stairs led up on either side and the bedrooms were spaced around the gallery. She'd loved the design when she bought it, but this only increased her frustration when no one ever came to visit. "Gorgeous fucking house; ten acres of beautiful nature filled with deer and ugly-ass wild turkeys; a fucking pond people could skate on; shit, I even found a patch of landrace back there! What's not to love about my new home? Why aren't people shitting themselves in jealousy?" She reached the master bedroom, sighing at how big it felt since she had no one to share it with. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her naked body and sighing. She was trim and fit, with nicely-sized boobs, she kept her cunt shaved smooth and her full lips were simply made to suck cock. Her skin was fair and even and her dark brown hair was long enough to pull on if you were fucking her ass or taking her from behind. So what the hell was wrong? The bed was certainly big enough for two (or maybe her and two guys who didn't mind getting close), but she plunked herself down into it and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the room to stop drunk-spinning. It took longer than she wanted it to, but things finally slowed down an she breathed deeply. She reached over with her hand and fumbled around inside the drawer of the nightstand. She finally withdrew an elegant glass dildo, a barely opaque white with bright red stripes curling around it to simulate a candy cane. It had been a Christmas gift from Claire, who had jokingly given it to her until she found a man for herself. That bitch. "Well, Frosty," she sighed, examining him. "Looks like it's you and me tomorrow. I promise to not get out of bed except to go to the bathroom or get more booze, okay? Because I'm here for you;" And with that she kissed the dildo and put it aside. She turned out her lamp and sighed deeply as she lay in the dark, waiting for sleep to take her. "Fuck Christmas;" A noise from downstairs. Her eyes snapped open. She was sure she'd heard something. Her heart pounded in her chest. She took deep breaths to try and calm herself, reasoning that she'd been drunk and it might just be hangover noises. Maybe just something like branches scraping on the roof or across the walls? Ginny felt a flush of anger and slowly rose, getting out of bed and putting on a plush yellow robe. There were definitely sounds downstairs. She grabbed her rape whistle and her high-school field hockey stick off the wall before quietly opening the door and proceeding out of the room. Her cheeks flushed with fear and anger. How dare someone invade her house? And in this fucking weather! "Burglars? Ruffians? Escaped cons?" "Well, at least if they see you they might have their way with you and break your dry spell." She shook the vile notion from her head, wondering where the hell that'd come from. Could she be that desperate to get laid? Ginny walked as quietly as she could, hearing noises on the roof. Raccoons? Looking to get in from the cold? Fucking trash pandas. She rounded the corner of the gallery and put her foot on the top step, her hockey stick ready. She crept down the stairs, still hearing the noises. They seemed to be coming from her living room. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to identify anything that might be amiss. Then she saw him, a symphony of red trimmed in white, the huge ass swaying back and forth as the intruder was bent over her at the base of her Christmas tree, doing God only knows what to it. He seemed to be humming to himself. She walked up silently until she was maybe ten feet away from him, her hockey stick over her shoulder, ready to swing. He didn't hear her or took no notice of her. "I don't want to hurt you," she growled through clenched teeth. "But you'd best get the fuck out of my house or I'll hit you so hard Google won't be able to find you." The person in red paused in their activities and then stood up slowly. After another moment's pause, they stood up and turned around slowly. He was slightly taller than average and quite a bit fatter than societal norms allowed. He had a fat face with dancing blue eyes and red cheeks. Beneath the tapered red hat was long, silvery-white hair and a very full beard and moustache. The intruder looked at her and grinned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked with a voice that could only be described as jolly. Ginny said nothing. She seemed to be rooted to the spot. She wanted to say something, anything, but she seemed to have been robbed of the power of speech. "W, who;" she finally managed to stammer. "Yes, Virginia," the visitor said quietly but pleasantly in a soothing voice. "There really is a Santa Claus." She blinked and shook her head, trying to articulate a coherent thought. The big man in red chuckled, clearly amused by her predicament. "Your egg nog was very good," he mentioned as he walked forward a little. "Your cookies needed a little work, but I appreciate the effort. Maybe a cookbook next year?" "Stay still!" she snapped, suddenly coming out of her stupor and holding the hockey stick behind her head as if she was winding up for a hit. "I'll deck you, old man!" "Oh, there's no need for that," he said cheerfully, totally unconcerned by her threat. "It's been a rough year for you, hasn't it, Ginny?" "Why do you know my name?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Of course I know it," the man claiming to be Santa said jovially. "I'd be pretty lousy at my job if I didn't, right?" "If you're really Santa," she said tightly, still not understanding why she hadn't knocked this guy's head off his shoulders yet. "Then what was I doing the night of October seventeenth last year?" He tilted his head to the side a little and pursed his lips. "Are you sure?" "C'mon, you haven't got all day." "Very well," he said, sighing. "You were sitting in McPhearson's Pub, waiting vainly for Greg from IT to show up, because you'd given him a blowjob in the bathroom earlier that day and promised him more. But he went off with Becky from Accounts that night instead of meeting up with you." She blushed furiously at the memory. "I; that wasn't the day I meant! I meant the sixteenth!" He shrugged. "You had the day off and were really frustrated. You slid a condom over that very field hockey stick and used it on yourself, just to see what it was like." Ginny dropped the stick very suddenly. "How the hell do you know that, you perv?" The man shrugged. "I know all about you, Ginny. And every other boy and girl in the world" "Don't give me that horseshit!" she hissed, glaring at him. "I had too many Christmases where I didn't get what I want to buy into that cockamamie story!" "Well, you weren't exactly the most exemplary child, were you?" he reasoned. "I mean, you weren't horrible, it's not like you were out kicking puppies into woodchippers, but you spent more time in the naughty column that the good column, didn't you?" "What did I ever do that was so naughty?" she demanded hotly, her fists bunched up at her sides. "You and your brother could get rather friendly, couldn't you?" the man calling himself Santa pointed out. She faltered for a moment. "Lots of siblings play doctor. And those atomic booty bombs where I kept jumping in the air and landing on him were just playful." "While naked?" Santa asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Ginny blushed. "But that wasn't what landed you on the naughty list," he added. "What got you blacklisted was that you lied about doing your homework or cleaning your room while you were messing around with your brother. Your mom and dad would ask you to do your math and you'd slip away to play doctor instead and tell them you'd finished your homework after. Lying is naughty, right?" "Woah, hold the phone here," she said loudly, holding her head as if she was suddenly dizzy from a revelation. She didn't seem to notice that her robe had opened slightly, exposing her cleavage. "Are you fucking kidding me? Fibbing to my parents kept me from getting the gifts I wanted?" "Were the rules unclear?" Santa asked. "I thought the songs on the subject were so easy to follow." Ginny pinched her eyes in exasperation and then scowled at him. "I'm drunk," she concluded, trying to convince herself none of this was real. "I'm drunker than Sarah Palin and you're not really here. I'm still in bed and this is all bullshit." Santa shrugged. "I was putting stuff under your tree until you arrived and enjoying the nog. I won't mind if you go back to bed." "No, you're not getting off that easily," she said in annoyance. "You broke into my house in the middle of the storm of the fucking century and I want answers, dammit!" He shrugged. "Fair enough. Ask away." Her eyes narrowed again. "Aren't you on kind of a time crunch? Unless I'm the last person on your delivery list, don't you still have a shit ton of houses to visit? Say, a few hundred million?" He waved it off. "I've got it covered, I promise. I have all the time in the world for you, Ginny. I always have." "What, so you sub-contract out?" she said snidely. "Got FedEx making the rounds for you? Or maybe your 'Elves'?" She mentioned the last bit with air quotes. "Goodness, this has been a bad year for you, hasn't it?" he said sympathetically. "But to answer your question, I am capable of being many places at once." "Oh, so now you're the Kwizatz-Haderach?" she asked archly. "Hey, it's not just cinnamon I put in my Christmas cider." Santa chuckled. "It's rather complicated to explain." "So do you, like, clone yourself?" she asked, her guard seeming to slowly come down. "No, not at all," he said, shaking his head. "It involves Cherenkov Radiation, a Holmes field, a Gellar field and, to quote a friend of mine, 'a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey; stuff.'" "So it's some sort of deep quantum shit?" she asked, her body finally relaxing. He nodded, smiling. "Yes, it's very temporal and quantum. I can be many places at once. It's why I don't have to pay for billions in window repairs every year by going supersonic around the world." "So even while you're talking to me, you're delivering presents?" she asked, the sheer depth of the conversation hitting her now. She walked over to a stool and sat on it. "Like I said, it's difficult to explain without breaking out the chalkboard and calculator," he answered. "The magnetic lines between the poles help, especially the one that emanates from the Fortress of Solitude." Ginny blinked. "Fortress of Solitude? As in Superman? You're friends with Superman?" "Of course not!" the jolly man laughed. "There's no such thing as Superman, silly, he's a comic book character. Had you going, though." "Holy shit, Santa's a troll," she exclaimed, looking at him in bewilderment. "Well, okay, let's assume that this is all real and not a vivid hallucination resulting from a brain tumor. If I've been such a brat all these years, how do I make up for it? How do I get off the naughty girl list?" "Well, a little restraint would be a start," Santa suggested. "I'm not saying go out and become a Carthusian nun or a Buddhist priestess or anything, but you might try laying off the rampant promiscuity." "Why is that so bad?" she demanded. "What's so wrong with wanting to get banged?" "Nothing," he said simply. "But inevitably you get yourself into some kind of weird situation and end up lying your behind off and lying is a naughty thing to do. So try keeping your legs bolted together a little more." "Really;" she said, clearly not impressed. "Celibacy lessons from Santa Claus. Now I've heard everything." "According to my report here and speaking frankly, it's taken guys a lot less attractive than me a lot less effort to get you out of your clothes." Santa mentioned. "This coming from a guy who could clearly use a few P90-X sessions!" she shot back hotly, standing up, her robe opening further as she stomped toward him. He looked down at himself for a moment and guffawed. "Oh, right, I keep forgetting about that; hang on;" The man held his hands out to his sides and began to glow. The luminous display lit up the room progressively and Ginny held her hand in front of her face when it became too bright to look at for several seconds. When the light finally died away, leaving them once again in the softly lit living room, Ginny gaped in shock at what she saw. He was tall, powerfully built, with chiseled muscles, an eight pack and flawless, healthy skin. He'd removed his coat but the red pants remained, stretched tight over muscular thighs. Long, wavy, copper-colored hair fell past his shoulders and the full beard was reddish-gold. The sapphire-blue eyes stared down at her, still glittering with mirth. "Holy Jesus on a pogo stick;" she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper. "You're a total lumbersexual;" "This is what I really look like," he said, spreading his hands out to the sides and showing her his body. His chest rippled as the muscles flexed with the motion. "But kids react to the fat old man disguise better." "I'll bet mothers don't," she murmured, coming forward as if compelled and reaching out to touch his chest and washboard abs. "It's like you're Photo-shopped." He smiled as her hands caressed his abs. "You make me want to not get off the naughty list." "I think I know what you really want for Christmas;" he said slyly. Ginny paused and looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" "No, I can't lie." the man in red pants replied. "I thought it was Superman who couldn't lie." "Well, the writers had to get that idea from somewhere, I guess." Santa mused. "In any event, if you want, you could end up on the good girl list by being rather naughty." She stared at him. "So; get laid by Santa for Christmas?" He shrugged. "There might be some other goodies in the bag for you, but I think we both know what Ginny really wants and needs for Christmas." "This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!" she thought to herself, wrestling with her sensibilities. "If this is all just a dream, then I can fuck hunky Santa and have no regrets. If this is real, I can fuck sexy Santa and remember it in the morning! It's win-win!" "Well, this is super-easy," she declared. "Santa, I want you to fuck my brains out for Christmas." "With pleasure, Ginny!" he said, laughing merrily. "Whatever you like, however you want it. I have to keep the kiddies happy." "Good, but just don't say 'kiddies' anymore, because that's kinda creepy," she said, throwing her caution to the wind. She knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on the oversized silver belt buckle and undoing it. Letting it drop, she put her fingers on the front of his pants, caressing them over the crotch. Her mouth went dry. "That'd better not be a secondary present sack you're teasing me with;" Ginny hooked her fingers into the top of the velvety pants and pulled them down, revealing his cock. She drew in her breath slowly, her eyes widening. "Jesus," she muttered. "You're hung like a fat kid's Christmas stocking;" "Thanks, I make due." Santa said cheerfully, watching her admire his cock. "By the way, shouldn't I call you something else?" she asked, looking up at him while her hand reached up to take his huge shaft, wrapping around it, barely. "I mean, most people call you Santa Claus, but isn't your name Nick or Kris or something?" He shrugged again, grinning. "Nick, Kris, Klaus, Pelznickel, Joulupukki, Kanakaloka, Dun Che Lao Ren, Weihnachtsmann, Swiety Mikolaj, Hoteiosho, Jultomten, I don't mind, Ginny. I just like hearing you say my name the way you think of me." "Hmm, Santa;" she replied, smiling as she stroked her hand along his shaft, eyeing it hungrily. How the hell was she going to fit that all in her mouth, forget her aching cunt? "Ah, don't use that word," he chided, holding up a finger. "Some words are still naughty, even when you're an adult." "Stay out of my mind then, creeper." Ginny said as she leaned forward and swirled her tongue around the fat head of his cock. She flicked it around the tip and then slowly took it inside her mouth, tongue rolling against it. "The hell? How can his cock taste like mint?" "Just wait til you taste my cum." Santa said, leering. "Fine, but it better not taste like turkey gravy or we're gonna box." Ginny said as she pulled her mouth back for a moment. She pumped her hand gently along the shaft, studying her quarry intently. It was definitely the biggest cock she'd ever taken on, and the best-tasting. She'd been experiencing trippy magic all evening, maybe she could fit this monster in her mouth this one night; She put the head back in her mouth and relaxed, slowly pushing down the shaft. She moaned as she felt him slide to the back of her mouth and then to her throat. She felt him tremble and lay a huge but gentle hand on the back of her head. "Holy shit; I'm deep-throating Santa Claus;" Ginny took a deep breath through her nose and then tried to relax. Her whole body was tingling with excitement and the whole minty cock thing was throwing her off. Her tongue undulated along the underside of his shaft while the fingers of one hand formed a ring around the base of his cock and the other cupped his balls, fondling them. Ginny was proud of her cocksucking skills and if there was anyone she ever needed to impress with them (aside from her 11th Grade math teacher), it was probably Santa. She calmed herself and began pulling her mouth back along his length, humming and letting her lips vibrate softly on his sensitive skin. "Now I know why Mister Bondi gave you that A in math," Santa chuckled. "You're a very naughty girl, Virginia." "Hmm, only for you, Santa baby;" she cooed as she pulled her mouth off his cock long enough to respond, stroking slowly and swirling her tongue around the head again. She then slid back down the entire length, moaning in pleasure. She could feel her nipples getting hard and her cunt was very, very wet beneath her robe. Both his hands were on the back of her head now and holding her gently but firmly. She began to slowly bob back and forth, thrilled at how she was able to take this enormous beast of a cock all the way in her mouth. Sure, maybe there was some weird physics involved that compressed space and time or some shit, but she didn't care and he certainly didn't seem to mind. "Hmm, very good, Virginia;" he said softly, stroking her hair. No one ever called her Virginia and she didn't know why it gave her a tingle when he did. His cock was very full and very hard now, like a pulsing iron rod covered in mint-flavored velvet. She almost giggled at the thought of how crazy this all was. She really hoped it wasn't a dream. Her thumb began to squeeze along the underside of his cock as her hand followed her mouth up and down his length. The shaft glistened wetly and the mint was making her drool. She undid her robe and let it fall away, the air of the room kissing her flushed skin. Her hands now took hold of his powerful thighs and she began moving back and forth along his cock more quickly. She could feel his hands flexing in her long, dark hair, caressing her skin. Breathing through her nose, she moaned as she sucked ardently, her cunt almost aching with desire. She was hoping he would last long enough to fuck her when he went rigid suddenly and groaned, gripping her head tightly and his hips shuddering. Ginny's eyes widened as she felt him began to cum inside her mouth, spurting strongly. She began swallowing hastily, almost in a panic as Santa pumped his hips against her face. "Holy shit! Fucking eggnog?" He kept cumming and she was sure she might actually drown when he pulled his huge cock out of her mouth and pumped it furiously in his hand, spattering her tits and stomach with his glistening load. She'd never seen so much cum in her life. It tingled on her skin. Finally, Santa relaxed, allowing Ginny to put her mouth back around his cock and suck the rest of his cum from him. He was sighing and breathing rather heavily, apparently having enjoyed himself. She eventually released him and smiled up at him wickedly. "So," she cooed, winking while she gently pumped his cock with her hand. "Am I back on the good girl list?" "Oh, I'd think so," he said, grinned. "But it's not like I've given you your whole present yet." "Jeez, you can still go?" she asked almost in disbelief but also delighted. She really needed to be fucked hard now. "Your cock taste like mint, your cum tastes like nog, your ass probably tastes like hot cocoa or nutmeg and you can keep it up all night?" "Up all night is kind of my thing, at least once a year." Santa said cheerfully. "So how would you like for me to give you the rest of your present, Virginia?" "Well, golly, Santa," she mused, making a show of thinking while she stroked his cock. "Since you seem to be the gift that keeps on giving, how about we just wing it?" He nodded and she stood up, keeping hold of his cock and gently led him over to the large chesterfield, hoping it would hold his rather muscular frame. She knelt on it, resting her arms along the raised back and smiled at him, wiggling her behind. She wouldn't believe how wet her cunt was. "You gonna hurry down my chimney, Santa-baby?" she asked, smiling slyly. "I can't believe you just said that!" he laughed jovially. He may not have been older, fatter Santa, but the laugh still definitely suited him. He stepped up behind her and took gentle hold of her hips. She could feel him press against her ass and she shivered in anticipation. He slid his massive cock up and down between her ass cheeks, teasing her until she was writhing in desperation. He seemed to know instinctively what she loved most. Which only made sense, since he was Santa. "Ready, Virginia?" he asked as he pressed the huge mushroom head against her sticky cunt. She nodded eagerly, unwilling to speak. He slid the head in, parting her lips and penetrating her. She groaned loudly as he began to stretch her inner walls. With a slow, steady push of his hips, he pushed the entire length of his cock deep inside her. It robbed her of her breath, she'd never felt so full in her life, even that one time she'd been so horny she'd fucked her parent's bedpost. "Ah; uh;" she gasped, eyes wide. The sensations were like nothing she'd ever experienced. His cock completely filled her to a delightful stretch that didn't hurt except in the good way. His iron shaft throbbed in time with her heartbeat. It was wonderfully warm but also strangely cool all at once, tingling, like mint again. How the hell could her cunt taste peppermint? "Language, Virginia;" he chided again as he pressed in just a little bit further. By right his cockhead should have bruising her brainstem, but there was no doubt some weird physics shit involved that she decided not to think about. She was getting fucked by Santa, after all. She pressed her forehead against the back of the couch and tried squeezing her cunt around his titan cock or pressing back against him, squirming her ass against his hips. She shuddered in delight, loving how he felt inside her. His hands reached under her body and squeezed and massaged her tits, sending delicious thrills through her. He began to move slowly back and forth, pulling back until just the tip was inside her and pushing in steadily, almost robbing her of breath. She began to feel like a blacksmith's bellows very quickly. The feel of his cock sliding inside her, stretching her and touching deep inside in ways she hadn't known were possible; "Oh my god;" she gasped, fingers digging into the back of the couch. "You're tearing me apart and I love it;" "Only the best for my Virginia," he said, his ruddy cheeks taking on a flush tone as he fucked her. Her fingers squeezed the meat of her thighs and hips or flexed on her ass cheeks. His heavy balls slapped against her cunt as he drove inside her. Strong yet gentle, forceful and commanding yet accommodating. She felt dominated yet exalted somehow. His hand wrapped in her hair and she groaned loudly as he pulled on it, craning her neck. She shuddered in pleasure, feeling her spine almost accordion as he thrust inside while pulling her head back. Her could feel the pulse of his cock through her whole body. Her nails scratched along the couch, almost clawing it. "Uh, you're gonna make me cum so fucking hard;" she wailed, feeling the sweat forming on her skin. "Oh my gawd;" "You're going to make me cum hard too," he panted, thrusting deep inside, thumping his hips against her ass. "You feel wonderful and tight, Virginia;" "Oh, God, he's gonna cum in me;" she realized. "Santa's gonna fucking cum in me and he's not wearing anything! Will my birth control work? Shit, will my kids always smell like mint?" "Oh, God, cum in me!" she panted, thrusting herself back against him and grinding shamelessly. "Fucking cum in me, Santa!" "Ya want me to cum in you?" he hissed, his body beginning to tremble. It felt like his cock was getting bigger inside her. "Want my cum in you?" "God, yes!" Ginny squeaked, clenching her teeth. "Fucking cum in me and make me scream!" They strained against one another desperately and then she cried out as a massive orgasm crashed over her. It battered her senses as she felt his hot-yet-tingly-cool cum bathing her insides relentlessly. Her cunt was making greedy sucking sounds as she came, her whole body shuddering almost uncontrollably. She squeezed and clenched and rippled her tight tunnel round him, reveling in the way he stretched and penetrated her ever more deeply. She collapsed against the chesterfield, panting heavily, her body drenched in sweat. His massive, hard cock was still deep inside her, pinning her to him. She felt like she was made of lead, an exquisite exhaustion while pleasure crawled over her languidly. That was beyond anything she had ever experienced. But he didn't seem to be done with her. His powerful hands took hold of Ginny and turned her around so she was squatting on the couch, her knees spread wide and her arms slung across the high back. She looked up at him in weary astonishment as he nestled himself between her legs and pressed his cock against her sopping cunt again. "Ah!" she wailed as he slid deep inside her again, his huge cock splitting her wide. Her nails dug into the couch again and she clenched her teeth as she sucked in her breath. Ginny tried to regulate her breathing while Santa began sliding in and out slowly, looking down at her with those penetrating blue eyes. "Jesus," she grunted, feeling almost like a rag doll in his hands, which gripped her hips. "Gonna fucking kill me with that thing!" "Oh, let's hope not," he replied, thrusting into her strongly. "I'm nowhere near done with you." She gazed up at him, trembling as he fucked her good and hard. She bit her lip as he squeezed her thighs, before moving his hands up to squeeze her tits, pinching her nipples. She groaned shamelessly as the delicious sting electrified her senses. She tried to squeeze herself around him, baffled by how big he felt inside her. She gasped and whimpered as he slapped her cunt lightly. She reached forward and raked her nails over his powerful chest, leaving red marks along the defined muscles. She ground her hips against him wantonly, thrilling to the look of pleasure on this face. "Uh, fuckin' wreck me;" she gasped, feeling another massive climax building inside her. "Make me cum on that beautiful cock, Santa!" "I'll take 'Things Virginia Never Thought She'd Ever Hear Herself Say' for a thousand, Alex!" he laughed. He reached down and took her ass her hands and pulled her closer, smiling warmly yet wickedly into her eyes as she sank further onto his cock, which penetrated her to the deepest depths yet. She could feel the head pressing against her womb. It didn't hurt, but she felt fuller and more stretched than ever. She felt him squeeze her ass cheeks while he thrust into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight, bumping up and down on his powerful thighs. She moaned loudly and bit his shoulder, trying not to shriek. She tried to squeeze herself around him again, finding that she could barely control her muscles, let alone fuck. She bit down as the warmth spread through her, tears of pleasure in her eyes. He thumped his hips against her even more strongly and they strained against one another. Then he growled and released himself, pumping her once again full of his tingling cum. She shuddered and cried out loudly, her head spinning from the unreal ecstasy. Crushing herself to him, Ginny held on desperately, like a ship battered by an unrelenting storm. They both slumped onto the couch, breathing heavily. She felt small and almost cocooned in his embrace. She was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat and could feel the thrilling tingle of his cum trickling out of her cunt. It wouldn't be a stain on her couch, it was a mark of honor. Their hearts pounded in rhythm as the orgasm passed over them and slowly flowed away. "Holy shit;" she whispered, her body still limp in his arms. "I think you've ruined me for sex. I should be mad;" "You have to admit, it makes sense that I'm better at gift-giving than anyone else on the planet." Santa reasoned, smiling and stroking her hair while she sat in his lap. "I'd say you were a little pent up there." "Mild understatement," she moaned, finally raising her head and smiling up at him. "Thank you, first of all. That was the best thing I've ever felt in my life." "I aim to please," he said cheerfully, caressing his thumb across her cheek and enjoying the shining look in her eyes. "Kinda my thing, after all." "So," Ginny purred, walking to fingers up his broad chest. "Is there a Mrs. Claus?" He shrugged. "There has been, of course." She paused suddenly and looked up at him, her smile replaced by a deadpan look. "What do you mean, there has been?" He seemed somewhat confused by her change in demeanor. "Well, there has been a few in the past, of course, there was Seeki first, then there was Ahoop, followed by Annalina, then Layla, Martha, Juliana, Gretchen and Jessica, Santarina, Kasey, Mary;" "I see," she said stonily. "You've had more wives than Elizabeth Taylor had husbands." "Well, to be fair, they've been spread over a long period of time." Santa replied. "And they were all special to me." "So then I'm not special." Ginny said flatly. "Well of course you are," he said, not understanding her mood swing. "You're my Virginia." "And Becky down the street is your Becky, and Sarah in the blue house is your Sarah and Hilda in Dusseldorf is your Hilda," she concluded. "Everyone's equally special to you, aren't they?" He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I'm not being fair," she sighed. "I just; well, I thought maybe this; ya know, tonight, was truly special. And clearly you're not good at lying." "Well, no, not at all." Santa agreed, still holding her and wondering how he could comfort her. "I can't lie." "Like, literally can't?" she asked, now curious more than anything. "It's part of your genetic makeup that you can't lie?" "No, nothing like that," he admitted. "But after spending centuries with kids and teaching them to always tell the truth, I haven't tried telling a lie in so long I don't even know how to do it." "You don't know how to lie?" she mused. "If I did, it wouldn't be the least bit believable," he said. "Like, if I said right now that your breath smells wonderful and not like old eggnog and vomit, I somehow doubt you'd believe my lie." "No shit," Ginny replied, giving him a stony look. "You're a horrible liar. You've got the subtlety of a cement truck. Good thing you're Santa and don't have to date to charm a girl." He held her close, hugging her tight to comfort her. She sighed deeply, still impaled on his hard cock, which showed no sign of abating. "God, I can't believe you've still got wood after cumming like a fire hydrant three times," she said, her mood softening. She was having the best sex of her life, she reminded herself not to ruin it by being crazy. "How long can you keep going?" He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "How long do you need me to?" "Actually, it doesn't surprise me that's your answer." Ginny said, smirking. "If you've got the time, I've got another itch that needs scratching." He grinned. "So you haven't broken in that hot tub yet, have you?" "Oh, Santa;" she purred, leaning in and biting his earlobe. "Like you don't make me wet already." He picked her up and carried her toward the Jacuzzi, deftly turning it on with his foot and bringing it rumbling to life. He stepped down into the churning water, setting her one of the seats. As he stood up, she leaned forward and hungrily took his enormous cock into her mouth, sucking ardently. She moved forward and knelt in the water, her hands on his hips again or stroking his balls. He picked her up bodily and turned her upside. Ginny squeaked in surprise at first but found his hips in front of her and began sucking again on his tool without delay. He buried his face in her cunt, tongue snaking deep inside her and she groaned gutturally, Holding her in place with one powerful hand, her teased her taint and then pressed a finger into her ass. "Jesus!" she gasped, almost choking on his cock as he wormed the finger down into her tight tunnel. "Oh, fuck! Your finger is bigger than some dicks I've fucked!" She attacked his cock again eagerly, bobbing back and forth like her life depended on it. She squirmed in his grip as he lashed her cunt with his tongue and fingered her ass. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and her knees locked around his neck. His cock throbbed in her mouth, still thrilling her with its unique and incredible taste. He turned her around again and paid her on the edge of the hot tub, spreading her legs wide. She looked on wantonly as he pushed his tongue back inside her again. He gripped her thighs to hold her in place and she groaned and squirmed, squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples. Her breath came in ragged gasps as he drove her to the limit of her sensations. Ginny shook and thrashed as she cried out loudly, cumming on his face. He didn't let up, lapping at her essence eagerly. She lay like a dead thing for several seconds before her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes opened, gazing back at him. She couldn't feel her limbs, just floating on a tingling ocean of deep colors. Santa looked up at her and smiled, pulling his tongue out of her cunt and kissing her clit gently. She shivered at the touch. "One hole left, Santa," she breathed, her body glistening. "Got any left in you to perfect my Christmas?" "Always for you, Virginia." Santa said warmly, standing and raising her gently into a sitting position. He settled down into the water on one of the seats and then pulled her onto his lap, facing away from him. She moved her hips around until she found his rock-hard cock, waiting for her. She placed her puckered knot against it, giggling as she thought about what he was about to do to her. She took his shaft in her hand and held it steady while she sank down, very slowly. Ginny gasped and shivered as the head pushed aside the tight ring of muscle, popping inside her. Then she sighed as she lowered herself, feeling his massive cock stretching her tight tunnel wide. God, she felt so full it was unreal. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her ass cheeks pressed to his lap. He was all the way inside her ass and her held her closed as she settled back against him, purring in sensual pleasure. "Umm, it's never felt this good in my ass before," she said softly, her arms reaching back to curl around his neck. She gyrated slowly on his lap, moaning softly. "A gal could get used to this." His muscular arms wrapped around her and caressed Ginny's body, massaging her tits. She loved how she felt pinned to him. She had finally found the measure of her body and began to squeeze her tight ass around his cock. She squirmed in slow circles on his lap, wishing she had some music to fuck him to. Her stereo system suddenly came on and began playing 'It's Cold Outside'. She giggled and squeezed his neck gently at his thoughtfulness. "You think of everything, don't you?" she purred, lost in her pleasure. "I can't wait to make you cum again." He smiled wickedly and pulled gently on her nipples, causing her to groan at the welcome sting. She pressed her ass back into his lap, squeezing again around his throbbing shaft. The water bubbled and churned around her waist, the heat leaving her skin shining. She began to pant as she moved her hips faster, stopping the circular motions and started to move up and down, his cock sliding in and out of her. Santa took hold of her hips and let her bounce on his lap. Ginny leaned forward, gasping as she fondled her tits, overcome with a liquid heat as his cock impaled her faster and faster. Water splashed around them as the fucking took on an almost frantic pace. Ginny had never felt anything in her ass like this before, nothing even close to this good. She could very easily become an addict. "Uh, fuck!" she grunted, slamming her ass down on him while one hand snaked down and began massaging her cunt and clit. His hands steadied her and helped moved her up and down. She could feel his hips trembling beneath her, his fingers flexing and squeezing her skin. Her panting became a long, drawn-out keening. She clenched her teeth, shuddering and straining as she tried to prolong the fucking; Ginny screamed and pushed herself back against his massive chest violently, thrashing as she clenched his cock inside her ass while he came. His cream flooded inside her, the unreal hot-cool tingling transporting her. He growled in her ear, almost crushing her comparatively tiny frame against himself. She collapsed, utterly exhausted, her chest rising and falling as the world spun around her. She felt him holding her gently, caressing her body in unique ways that seemed to; regulate her blood flow and nerve sensations, making the post-orgasmic bliss she was feeling last as long as possible. She felt herself smile and hum at his consideration, understanding this this is who he was and what he was meant to do. Ginny then did something she almost never did during sex, she leaned her head back, pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply and with great affection. She held it for as long as she could and then sank back into his embrace, sighing in contentment. "Wish you were advertising for a Mrs. Claus at the moment," she said softly. "I could get used to this." "I like things the way they are," he replied, hugging her. "Every year I get to reward you for being a good girl. What could be better than that?" "True, I guess," Ginny agreed. "I'm only human, all this sex could kill me." "Hey, I'm human too, you know," he chuckled. "Just because I'm immeasurably older than you and subject to quantum laws even my smartest elf couldn't explain doesn't mean I'm a member of some other species." "Okay, that's fair, although I'd still fuck you if you were an alien or some extra-dimensional being." Ginny admitted. "You've come in me a lot tonight, daddy. Do I need to” "No," he said cheerfully. "I'm not sterile, but you can't get pregnant unless I decide you will and I've never allowed it." "I wonder what a Santa kid would be like," she mused. "More like you or the mom?" "No idea," he confessed. "There's not exactly a manual, so I've never taken a chance." She slowly leaned forward and began to rise, shivering as she slid off his long cock and it popped out of her. She knelt and turned around to face him, not sure she could stand yet, looking up at his still hard cock and giggled, pressing her finger against the head. "Well, I think you can take him off duty, sir," she said sweetly. "I'm pretty sure that I'm all fucked out for the night, if not the whole season." He chuckled and let his cock soften, looking into her eyes and caressing his cheek. "Hopefully that was what you needed for Christmas." "Definitely, Santa." Ginny said, giggling. "Is it greedy to want the same present again next year?" "Not at all," he replied, grinning. "It cuts down on elf-labor hours if I can give people a gift mysteriously." Santa paused in speaking, going silent and looking around, as if listening for something. Neither of them touched the controls, but the motor for the jets turned off and all that could be heard was the howling roar of the winter storm outside. Ginny looked at him in confusion, wondering why his features hardened and a scowl crossed his normally jovial face. "That's no storm," he said in a low, growling voice. "Not a regular one, anyway." "What does that mean?" she asked, his reaction worrying her for reasons she couldn't readily explain. What the hell was a 'not regular' storm, according to Santa, or anyone else for that matter? He stood up and strode out of the hot tub, taking her by the hand and pulling her out with him. Their naked bodies glistened with water but this was the farthest thing from her mind. "What's going on?" she asked, his consternation beginning to frighten her now. She watched as he tossed her the robe she'd been wearing earlier and then started pulling on his pants and sturdy black boots. "It's just a winter storm! Isn't it?" "I wish that were true," he replied, his expression grim. "Listen to me very carefully, Virginia. I'll need you to follow me instructions precisely. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Okay, but” "Good," he said, cutting her off, his eyes flashing. "It's very important to your safety." "Can you at least tell me what's happening?" she pleaded. "Krampus." Santa muttered darkly as he wrapped bright red straps around his wrists, tightening them. "I should've been more careful." "What's Krampus?" she asked, going pale and she paused in putting on her robe, one of her tits hanging out. "Krampus isn't a what, Krampus is a who," he said, his eyes scanning the layout of her expansive living room. "He's also called Black Pete in some places and legend says he's supposed to be my evil henchman who punishes wicked children." "I take it that's not true, then?" she asked, looking around like he did, wondering what he was searching for. "Not even close," he growled. "Pardon my French, but Krampus is an evil sonofabitch. He was, at one time long ago, my dedicated helper, but he turned down the path of darkness, becoming twisted and diabolic. Forget punishing children, he wants to destroy Christmas, like it never happened." "What's that got to do with us here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Can he reach us in this storm?" "This storm is his doing, I recognize it now," Santa said, striding over to his huge Christmas bag and beginning to rummage in it. "A massive storm always precedes his arrival. It can be mistaken for a regular winter storm if you're not paying

Why Am I Feeling Alone And Feeling........? In this powerful longer episode, I dive into the hidden causes of loneliness — why we feel alone, why it often starts as protection, and how we unintentionally reinforce it with the wrong questions. Then I'll guide you through a gentle, refined hypnosis process to help you reconnect with yourself, shift your emotions, and find comfort, peace, and connection again. Practical tools. Better questions. Deep self-work. And the reminder we all need: You are never alone. You are always with yourself. Here's The Key Takeaways Loneliness is often an unconscious protection response. You are always the centre of your own world — so get into rapport with yourself. Bad questions create bad emotional loops. Better questions create better states and better choices. Hypnosis can reconnect you to comfort, contentment, and possibility. Small steps lead you out of the familiar zone and into real change.   If this helped, share it with someone who might need it today. https://personaldevelopmentunplugged.com/470-why-am-i-feeling-alone-and-feeling Subscribe. Follow. And wallow in pleasure at personaldevelopmentunplugged.com and paulcloughonline.com/podcast where all the free hypnosis tracks live. Shine Brightly

durée : 01:01:12 - Les Nuits de France Culture - par : Mathias Le Gargasson - La solitude : l'assumer tragiquement jusqu'à la mort ou alors la conjurer dans la danse ? En 1987, une série des "Nuits magnétiques" se penche sur le destin de l'ancien mannequin Marcelle Pichon qui s'est laissée mourir de faim, et sur les danseuses du bal-musette "La Boule Rouge", à Paris. - réalisation : Massimo Bellini

Join our book club!  / lifeonbooks  Get the Freedom App to remove distractions and read more books:https://freedom.sjv.io/N9074OJoin the Life on Books mailing list to stay up to date on all of our latest book giveaways, projects, and more!https://linktw.in/BRYAnVhWant to read one book from every country? Check out our resource online:https://linktw.in/ZeoltyWant to know my all time favorite books? Click the link below!https://bookshop.org/shop/lifeonbooksFollow me on Instagram:  / alifeonbooks  Follow Andy on Instagram  / metafictional.meathead  Books mentioned in this episode:The Pale King by David Foster Wallacehttps://amzn.to/47PeURQhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780316...Satantango by Laszlo Krasznahorkaihttps://amzn.to/3KDGzxuhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780811...List of William Vollmann's Published Works:  / works-of-william-143602359  The Melancholy of Resistance by Laszlo Krasznahorkaihttps://amzn.to/4pFjl9lhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780811...Confessions of a Mask by Yukio Mishimahttps://amzn.to/4q26Rs5https://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780811...One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquezhttps://amzn.to/4rN7Uh9https://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780060...Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchonhttps://amzn.to/4rXp1x6https://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780143...Stoner by John Williamshttps://amzn.to/4iOCaEzhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9781590...Hard Rain Falling Don Carpenterhttps://amzn.to/48Lnr8uhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9781590...Killer Angels by Michael Shaarahttps://amzn.to/4aDv4R6https://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780345...Cloud Splitter by Russel Bankshttps://amzn.to/4poKkpwhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780060...Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompsonhttps://amzn.to/4a3rbERhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780345...Babel by RF Kuanghttps://amzn.to/495VWYOhttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780063...Yellowface by RF Kuanghttps://bookshop.org/a/103053/9780063...https://amzn.to/4pzlF1KBetween Two Fires by Christopher Bhuelman

Join David Heavener as he explores the journey and challenges of spiritual awakening and why it often offends those around us. Discover the importance of solitude and personal connection with God, the dangers of religious systems, and how spiritual sensitivity can lead to personal growth. This video offers insights into protecting your spiritual awakening and the value of finding your secret place with God.

Join David Heavener as he explores the journey and challenges of spiritual awakening and why it often offends those around us. Discover the importance of solitude and personal connection with God, the dangers of religious systems, and how spiritual sensitivity can lead to personal growth. This video offers insights into protecting your spiritual awakening and the value of finding your secret place with God.

In this engaging conversation, Forrest Inslee, Jason Lyle, and Mark Warren delve into the profound relationship between humans and nature, exploring themes of survival skills, environmental education, and the importance of solitude in reconnecting with the natural world. They discuss Mark's teaching methods, emphasizing the need for a deeper understanding of ecosystems and the gifts nature provides. The conversation also touches on personal stories, including Mark's experiences living off the grid for two years in a tipi, and the significance of moments shared with wildlife, ultimately highlighting the mystery and beauty of nature. Mark Warren's booksMedicine Bow Wilderness SchoolJason Lyle's organization, Adventures in RecoveryForrest's interview with Jason, episode 132 Finding Wholeness in Wilderness AdventureTakeaways·      Men struggle to find their identity in today's world.·      Teaching about nature fosters a deeper connection to the environment.·      Understanding ecosystems is crucial for conservation efforts.·      Solitude in nature helps individuals reconnect with their true selves.·      Experiencing nature can lead to profound personal insights.·      The relationship between humans and nature is essential for well-being.·      Teaching survival skills can empower individuals and communities.·      Nature provides gifts that we often take for granted.·      Personal stories can illustrate the beauty of nature's mysteries.·      Environmental education can inspire hope for future generations. Keywordsnature, survival skills, ecosystems, human connection, environmental education, solitude, coaching, historical fiction, conservation, personal growth, engaging mystery, stalking skills, hunting, finding unique purpose, calling  Find us on our website: Earthkeepers Support the Earthkeepers podcast Check out the Ecological Disciple

Auditeurs :Pour surmonter le deuil périnatal, Hélène et Aurélien partagent leur amour pour leur fille à travers poésie et joie!https://www.facebook.com/lespoissonscha?locale=fr_FRhttps://www.thebookedition.com/fr/a-deux-minutesde-toi-p-401405.htmlSon petit fils est un violeur, Isabelle est effondrée depuis qu'elle l'a appris.Anne est psychotique, elle explique ce trouble qui l'a plongée dans la solitudeIsabelle n'a jamais donné la vie, depuis toujours cette frustration l'emêche de fêter noël.Karen est émue d'avoir entendu Johnny Hallyday sur Europe 1. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Life moves fast—much faster than our souls were designed to run. Between responsibilities, noise, technology, and distractions, our minds rarely find quiet. Yet Jesus invites us into something radically countercultural: a secret place of stillness with Him. In this devotion, Keri Eichberger reminds us that solitude isn’t merely the absence of people—it's the intentional presence of God. True rest doesn’t come from binge-watching shows, scrolling endlessly, or escaping reality. It comes from withdrawing to be alone with the Lord, letting Him replenish what life drains. Solitude with God is a spiritual practice—a rhythm Jesus modeled throughout His earthly ministry. When we step away from the world’s constant chatter and allow silence to settle in, we make space to hear His voice again. We find peace, clarity, comfort, and spiritual renewal that no substitute can provide. And here's the beautiful thing: As we learn to savor God’s presence in private, His peace begins to follow us everywhere. Solitude becomes something we can carry within us—transforming busy rooms, chaotic moments, and overwhelming days. “But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” — Matthew 6:6 Main Takeaways Solitude isn’t isolation—it’s intentionally entering God’s presence. God desires to meet us in stillness, away from noise and distraction. Solitude strengthens our ability to sense God’s presence throughout everyday life. The secret place with God brings spiritual renewal, clarity, and rest. Practicing silence and prayer becomes a portable sanctuary for the soul. Today’s Prayer Glorious God, You are the sweetest gift of solitude. When I retreat from the noise of the world and quiet my heart before You, I find peace and nourishment that only You can give. I confess that I often turn to lesser things to soothe what only Your presence can heal. Teach me to prioritize stillness. Make solitude with You a regular rhythm of my life—one that becomes so natural that I can turn to You anytime, anywhere. Quiet my distractions. Relax my striving. Help me learn to savor Your holy, life-giving presence. Fill me with Your love, joy, and peace as I rest in You today. In Jesus’ precious name,Amen. Reflection Scriptures Psalm 46:10 Isaiah 30:15 Mark 1:35 Psalm 62:1 Want More? Subscribe to Your Daily Prayer on LifeAudio.com Share today’s devotion with someone who needs rest in God Explore related topics on Crosswalk.com and Christianity.com: How to hear God in the quiet What solitude with Jesus looks like Breaking busyness with biblical rest Discover more Christian podcasts at lifeaudio.com and inquire about advertising opportunities at lifeaudio.com/contact-us.

In 2025's America, Trump's birthday is now a free-entry day at national parks, while MLK Day and Juneteenth get the boot. Over at the Kennedy Center Honors, that iconic rainbow ribbon is out, and a navy-blue “rebrand” is in. Finally, a new study says 1 in 5 adults hasn't had sex in a year. Stress? Solitude? The price of everything? You decide. Apple Podcasts: apple.co/1WwDBrC Spotify: spoti.fi/2pC19B1 iHeart Radio: bit.ly/4aza5LW Tunein: bit.ly/1SE3NMb YouTube Music: bit.ly/43T8Y81 Pandora: pdora.co/2pEfctj YouTube: bit.ly/1spAF5a Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hip-hop culture was a dominant force during the '80s and '90s, and inspired language, fashion, film, and music. Yes, that includes plenty of alternative music. But that's not what we're talking about today. Instead, we explore the inverse - how influential was alternative music in the world of hip hop?  While perhaps not quite as pervasive, it did exist - whether it be through the use of sampling recognizable songs, a cross-pollination of styles and artists coming together, or perhaps just an overall attitude or spirit. Our Third Lad this week, Lemoyne Alexander, is a man who has bridged both the hip-hop and alternative worlds and then some.  He played in family bands throughout the ‘70s & ‘80s including the Fascination, who had some dance club hits like 1986's “Why Are You Always Complaining?” before settling in as a hip hop producer both solo and with the production team 3 Da Hard Way, working on records by the likes of Aalyiah, DMX, DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, and for labels like Jive and Motown.  Lemoyne left the rap game to return to his earliest passions - the guitar and rock n' roll, releasing Solitude in 2019 and Perfect World in 2023.  2024's indie rock single “Insecurity” is an earworm that once you hear that infectious chorus, it's going to take up residence in your head for all your days.  With a new single "Claustrophobia" (which you will hear during this episode!) and LP Alone on the horizon, Lemoyne is poised to continue making his mark on alt rock. Oh, and on top of that, we've got a brand new O3L game for y'all: Off Da Chartz (aka Rap Draft), in which our contestants draft five albums that they believe will appear on Boombox's list of the Top 50 Alternative Rap Albums of all time. Plus, Uncle Gregg rants aplenty. Oh, the rants. Yo! Thanks to Laura Bissett from the MyWhy Agency for the introduction and coordination. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Carrie and Molly remark on their scenic campsite and hike along Lake Geneva, ascending towards Geneva pass. They compare the weather pattern of the Cloud Peak Wilderness with other high altitude trails. Molly provides words of advice regarding effort when hiking at elevation in Wyoming and beyond. Molly and Carrie detail some of their favorite scenery in this area of the Bighorn Mountains. The girls add on segment of trail and attempt a swim. They spot an unexpected animal and get their feet wet prior to setting up camp at Lake Solitude.

durée : 00:13:17 - Le Disque classique du jour du mardi 09 décembre 2025 - Après un premier album consacré aux spirituals afro-américains, le contre-ténor américain Reginald Mobley consacre ce nouveau récital au répertoire anglais dans une combinaison simple mêlant essentiellement voix, luth et viole de gambe. Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

durée : 00:13:17 - Le Disque classique du jour du mardi 09 décembre 2025 - Après un premier album consacré aux spirituals afro-américains, le contre-ténor américain Reginald Mobley consacre ce nouveau récital au répertoire anglais dans une combinaison simple mêlant essentiellement voix, luth et viole de gambe. Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

✨ Welcome back to Zillennials Podcast! In this episode, Kaylee and Lian review their fall quarter of 2025, sharing updates on their personal goals, highlights, challenges, and favorites.Join them to hear about their seasonal adventures, challenges, and exciting new hobbies.00:00 Introduction and Episode Overview00:24 Goal Check-In07:05 Highlights of the Quarter25:38 Challenges of the Quarter26:00 Brave Moments29:14 Favorite Book Club Episodes31:06 Favorite Podcast Episodes33:37 Quarterly Favorites43:14 Next Book Club Announcement

This month on Unpacked, we're diving into Afar's just-released Where to Go list—but this year's picks are different. In 2026, we want to lessen the burden on overtouristed destinations and expand visitation to other parts of the world. Our editors carefully selected 24 emerging regions and overlooked locales that will inspire your next great adventure. For the Bahamas, that means looking beyond Nassau's cruise port crowds to discover what this nation of 700 islands and cays really offers. In this episode, host Aislyn Greene talks with Terry Ward, a Florida-based writer who has spent years exploring the Bahamas. She traveled to Eleuthera—one of the Out Islands—where she found pink-sand beaches with barely a footprint, locally-owned guesthouses where Bahamian culture takes center stage, and wild dolphins in crystal-clear waters. Plan your Eleuthera Getaway —Stay at the Farm, part of the Little Island Hotels chain —Stay at the Coral Sands Inn & Cottages, which has eight cottages —Eat at the Fig Tree at the Potlatch social club —Eat the national dish, conch salad, at many Harbour Island restaurants —Explore the Sapphire Blue Hole —Scuba dive at Valentine's Resort/Beach on Harbour Island —Visit Seahorse National Park (when it reopens to the public) —Stay Lighthouse Point while sailing with Disney Cruise Line Listen to All Our Where to Go in 2026 Episodes E1: T⁠his Island in the Bahamas Promises Pink Sand, Historic Hideaways, and Perfect Solitude ⁠ E2: ⁠Why Peru's Second City Might Be Its Best-Kept Secret E3: The New 170-Mile Hiking Network Connecting Stockholm's Dreamy Archipelago Resources Follow Terry's work on her website Explore all 24 destinations on our Where to Go in 2026 list Follow us on Instagram @afarmedia Stay Connected Sign up for our podcast newsletter, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Behind the Mic⁠⁠⁠, where we share upcoming news and behind-the-scenes details of each episode.  Explore our other podcasts, View From Afar, about the people and companies shaping the future of travel, and ⁠Travel Tales⁠⁠⁠, which celebrates first-person narratives about the way travel changes us. Unpacked by Afar is part of ⁠⁠⁠Airwave Media⁠⁠⁠'s podcast network. Please contact ⁠⁠⁠advertising@airwavemedia.com⁠⁠⁠ if you would like to advertise on our podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Avec ⁠Gaël Cousin⁠, on parle d'entrepreneuriat, d'héritage, de travail et de mentalité.Élevé “entre les marées et les camions à décharger”, Gaël a grandi dans une culture de l'effort, du travail manuel et de l'entrepreneuriat instinctif. Il est aujourd'hui CEO du ⁠⁠Viviers de Saint-Colomban⁠⁠, entreprise familiale qu'il a repris pour en faire un business à 30M€/an.

Week 2 Day 3 Peace in the Solitude

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you stripped away every distraction —  your screens, your routines, and even your ability to see? What hidden thoughts would rise to the surface? What suppressed emotions would finally have room to move? And what would catch up to you that you have been running from, for potentially years. In this episode, I sit down with Scott Berman, the founder of Sky Cave Retreats, which is the first darkness retreat center in the United States. Scott has spent more than 70 days in total darkness and has guided over 600 people through this profound inner journey. And after doing a darkness retreat myself, I finally understand why SkyCaves is booked out for 3 years and has a 3000-person waitlist. Darkness itself is a threat to the nervous system. And Scott lets everyone know who signs up that their system will probably not react the way they anticipate. He shares that the only thing one needs to bring is HONESTY, and what happens to those who don't.  I share my experience during 4 nights and 3 days in pitch blackness and the profound breakthroughs that occurred when I stopped running from, escaping, and numbing my deepest, rawest feelings. This episode is for anyone curious about nervous system healing, the addiction to the stories that hijack our minds, or what becomes possible when you meet yourself with honesty, zero distractions, and the primordial pressure of the dark. Scott is a beautiful human who leaves us with this question before we enter the cave and turn off the lights: “What would nurture do in this moment?” The answer is usually what we should follow to create the safety in our system we are all searching for.    This episode is for all those who are afraid of the dark and those who are afraid of the parts of themselves that may be trapped in the darkest recesses of their subconscious. Luckily, Scott has the compassion, calm, and skills to hold our hand through it all.  Key Moments You'll Love ✨:

Do you find yourself spiritually depleted despite your best efforts to follow Christ? Pastor Dorrell examines Matthew 14:21-23 to reveal how Jesus modeled a critical spiritual discipline that most modern Christians neglect: solitude. Drawing from Christ's pattern of withdrawing to quiet places after seasons of ministry, Dorrell argues that intentional solitude is not a luxury but a necessary spiritual discipline that recharges our capacity to serve, clarifies God's direction, and transforms us into the likeness of Christ. He challenges listeners to establish a rhythm of daily, weekly, or seasonal alone time with God—whether through morning quiet time, solitary walks, or extended retreats—as an essential investment in spiritual growth and personal renewal.Eastland is a Place to BelongEastland Baptist Church is located in Tulsa, Oklahoma. We are a welcoming and close-knit family community that loves to care for each other through the Church. We strongly believe in loving and supporting each other and our neighbors. Our members don't just attend our Church; they feel a strong sense of belonging.Join Us Find service times and our location at https://www.eastlandbaptist.org/join. Connect with UsWebsite: https://www.eastlandbaptist.orgFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/eastlandbaptisttulsaInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/eastlandbaptistTo support the ministry of Eastland Baptist Church, tap here: https://www.eastlandbaptist.org/give.

This week we begin a new series on the beautiful contradictions of faith that invite us not to choose between two truths, but to embrace both in creative tension. Mary Maio reflects on Mark 1:35-39. You can subscribe to The Contemplatio email here: bit.ly/TheContemplatio

Lauren Bastide est journaliste, autrice et militante féministe et évidemment podcasteuse.Elle vient de publier Enfin seule, un livre intime et politique qui m'a permis de remettre en question mes propres biais intégrés et mes croyances.C'est une conversation que je voulais absolument avoir avec elle depuis longtemps, car nous nous connaissons depuis des années et j'admire énormément son parcours, son intelligence, et la justesse de ses engagements.Dans cet épisode, nous parlons de solitude féminine, mais surtout de ce que cela signifie de choisir d'être seule loin des injonctions sociales au couple, à la maternité, à la conformité. J'ai voulu comprendre pourquoi tant de femmes ressentent un manque ou une honte à ne pas avoir "coché toutes les cases", alors qu'elles mènent des vies passionnantes. Lauren apporte une réponse puissante : ce n'est pas un vide intérieur, mais une pression extérieure.J'ai questionné Lauren sur la différence entre être seule, vivre seul et se sentir seul, et sur la manière dont le patriarcat a historiquement maintenu les femmes sous surveillance. Nous avons évoqué des figures oubliées comme Gabrielle Suchon, les dangers d'un retour à un ordre moral réactionnaire – notamment aux États-Unis – mais aussi le rôle de la maison, du corps, de la charge mentale et du soin dans la conquête de soi.C'est un épisode dense, engagé et profondément humain, où il est aussi question de sororité, de féminisme, de poétique du quotidien et de droit à l'ennui.5 citations marquantes« Le célibat, ce n'est pas une position de moins 1. C'est la position zéro. »« Une femme seule, c'est encore vu comme une anomalie sociale. »« Vivre seule par choix, c'est un geste politique. »« On ne peut pas être libre si on reste sous surveillance. »« La maison peut être une prison ou une cabane, c'est ce que l'on en fait. »10 questions posées Quelle est ta relation à l'amitié entre hommes et femmes ?À qui s'adresse ton livre Enfin seule ?Que réponds-tu aux femmes qui souffrent du célibat ?Pourquoi la solitude est-elle un enjeu politique ?Quelle est la différence entre vivre seul, être seul et se sentir seul ?Comment perçois-tu le recul des droits des femmes aux États-Unis ?Peux-tu nous parler de Gabrielle Suchon ?Que signifie pour toi la maison, la cabane ?Comment vis-tu tes propres contradictions ?C'est quoi le message central que tu veux faire passer aux femmes ?Timestamps clés 00:00 – Introduction par Gregory : pression sociale autour du couple02:00 – Début de la conversation avec Lauren03:50 – Sur l'amitié et les relations non capitalisables05:30 – À qui s'adresse Enfin seule10:00 – Solitude choisie vs isolement14:00 – Injonctions sociales au couple19:30 – Le célibat féminin comme stigmate22:00 – Surveillance des femmes et contrôle social31:00 – Recul des droits aux États-Unis et tradwives37:00 – Droit au repos et « linger » selon Bell Hooks41:00 – La maison : entre oppression et émancipation47:00 – Contradictions personnelles et rôle du soin52:00 – Le mythe de la joggeuse et le vrai danger56:00 – Trouver une voix intérieure Suggestion d'autres épisodes à écouter : #192 Feminisme washing: On claque la porte? Avec Léa Lejeune (https://audmns.com/JfZYqLI) #234 Féminisme: de l'argent au corps des femmes avec Elvire Duvelle-Charles (https://audmns.com/ftLsQfz) #204 L'Homme préhistorique était aussi une femme avec Marylène Patou-Mathis (https://audmns.com/xdMhFGZ)Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

In this episode of The Journey, I share a reflection sparked by the first meaningful snowfall of the season in central Wisconsin. After Thanksgiving, the world around me slowed under a fresh blanket of snow—a moment of solitude, beauty, and quiet that invited me to breathe, listen, and reconnect with nature and with God. I talk about the importance of embracing these pauses in our lives, especially during the winter months, and I encourage you to take a little time to step outside, bundle up, and appreciate the stillness this season offers.

The sisters embark on Wyoming's Solitude loop, exploring the Cloud Peak wilderness in the Big Horn Mountains. They provide some background and planning considerations for this moderate length trail. Carrie explains her reason for considering the Big Horns “our backyard.” The sisters discuss a particularly important consideration for this trail. Carrie's words of advice include, “Don't drive a Cadillac Deville to the trailhead.” The girls enjoy an evening hike. Carrie requests assistance solving a mystery. Set up camp at beautiful Lake Geneva. Are the Big Horns grizzly country? The sisters reveal a technique to help you sleep better in the tent.

Today, we begin our Advent journey by entering a quiet moment in the Christmas story — a moment of hiddenness and waiting. We explore Elizabeth's five months of solitude in Luke 1:23–25 and reflect on how God used that secluded space to reshape her identity and nurture new life within her. Drawing from Bette Dickinson's Making Room in Advent, we consider how solitude becomes a sacred womb where God does his deepest work in us. I hope you'll listen in. Get Faith & Feeling's weekly resource email Watch this episode on YouTube Grab a copy of my book Stop Saying I'm Fine Connect with me on my website Find me on Instagram @__taylorjoy__ Key words: Advent season, spiritual formation, solitude, silence, listening, creativity, emotions, vulnerability, curiosity, presence, process, courage, self-awareness, emotional health, personal growth, waiting, hope

Discover all of the podcasts in our network, search for specific episodes, get the Optimal Living Daily workbook, and learn more at: OLDPodcast.com. Episode 3370: Kat Medina reflects on how solo travel helped her redefine loneliness as a gateway to joyful solitude and personal growth. Through honest storytelling and a five-day self-connection challenge, she encourages us to disconnect from distractions and rediscover the richness of our own company. Read along with the original article(s) here: https://www.katmedina.com/article?id=solitude Quotes to ponder: "There are some moments that are more impactful when experienced by oneself, reminding me that there is a clear difference between alone and lonely." "If you prioritize some time for yourself to just ‘be', you can transform isolation into solitude." Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this powerful Mussar Master Class (Day 106), Rabbi Aryeh Wolbe teaches three vital daily remembrances from Orchos Tzaddikim:Regularly seek solitude (hitbodedut) — most interpersonal sins (lashon hara, flattery, mockery, arrogance) only happen in company. Alone time protects us from sin and opens the door to intimate conversation with Hashem in nature, gratitude, confession, and heartfelt prayer.Remember how many hidden miracles Hashem performs for us every single day — accidents we narrowly missed, flights we were delayed for, floods we escaped, dangers we never even knew existed. Hashem is constantly shielding us in ways we will never fully know until the World to Come.All money and success is a temporary deposit from Hashem — He can give or take it in a single moment. Therefore, never be arrogant about wealth, never mock the poor, never refuse to repay debts or return stolen items joyfully, and always pray that Hashem guide you to use “His money” exactly the way He wants.The class is filled with awe-inspiring stories: the rabbi whose insistence on retrieving his tefillin delayed the second 9/11 plane and saved thousands of lives, the man who arrogantly declared “Hashem can never take my money” and lost it — then regained it — overnight, and the breathtaking miracles hidden inside a single leaf or the human body.Recorded at TORCH Centre in the Levin Family Studios (B) to a live audience on April 28, 2025, in Houston, Texas.Released as Podcast on November 30, 2025_____________This series on Orchos Tzadikim/Ways of the Righteous is produced in partnership with Hachzek.Join the revolution of daily Mussar study at hachzek.com.We are using the Treasure of Life edition of the Orchos Tzadikkim (Published by Feldheim)_____________Listen, Subscribe & Share: Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/jewish-inspiration-podcast-rabbi-aryeh-wolbe/id1476610783Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4r0KfjMzmCNQbiNaZBCSU7) to stay inspired! Share your questions at aw@torchweb.org or visit torchweb.org for more Torah content.  _____________About the Host:Rabbi Aryeh Wolbe, Director of TORCH in Houston, brings decades of Torah scholarship to guide listeners in applying Jewish wisdom to daily life.  To directly send your questions, comments, and feedback, please email: awolbe@torchweb.org_____________Support Our Mission:Our Mission is Connecting Jews & Judaism. Help us spread Judaism globally by sponsoring an episode at torchweb.org.Your support makes a HUGE difference!_____________Listen MoreOther podcasts by Rabbi Aryeh Wolbe: NEW!! Prayer Podcast: https://prayerpodcast.transistor.fm/episodesJewish Inspiration Podcast: https://inspiration.transistor.fm/episodesParsha Review Podcast: https://parsha.transistor.fm/episodesLiving Jewishly Podcast: https://jewishly.transistor.fm/episodesThinking Talmudist Podcast: https://talmud.transistor.fm/episodesUnboxing Judaism Podcast: https://unboxing.transistor.fm/episodesRabbi Aryeh Wolbe Podcast Collection: https://collection.transistor.fm/episodesFor a full listing of podcasts available by TORCH at http://podcast.torchweb.org_____________Keywords:#JewishInspiration, #Mussar, #MasterClass, #Remembrance, #Solitude, #Self-reflection, #Hitbodedut, #Gratitude, #Mindfulness, #Trust, #Wealth, #Sins, #Slander, #Adultery, #Falsehoods, #Humility, #Faith, #Omnipotence, #Hardships, #Mercy, #Adversities, #Material, #Wealth ★ Support this podcast ★

In this powerful Mussar Master Class (Day 106), Rabbi Aryeh Wolbe teaches three vital daily remembrances from Orchos Tzaddikim:Regularly seek solitude (hitbodedut) — most interpersonal sins (lashon hara, flattery, mockery, arrogance) only happen in company. Alone time protects us from sin and opens the door to intimate conversation with Hashem in nature, gratitude, confession, and heartfelt prayer.Remember how many hidden miracles Hashem performs for us every single day — accidents we narrowly missed, flights we were delayed for, floods we escaped, dangers we never even knew existed. Hashem is constantly shielding us in ways we will never fully know until the World to Come.All money and success is a temporary deposit from Hashem — He can give or take it in a single moment. Therefore, never be arrogant about wealth, never mock the poor, never refuse to repay debts or return stolen items joyfully, and always pray that Hashem guide you to use “His money” exactly the way He wants.The class is filled with awe-inspiring stories: the rabbi whose insistence on retrieving his tefillin delayed the second 9/11 plane and saved thousands of lives, the man who arrogantly declared “Hashem can never take my money” and lost it — then regained it — overnight, and the breathtaking miracles hidden inside a single leaf or the human body.Recorded at TORCH Centre in the Levin Family Studios (B) to a live audience on April 28, 2025, in Houston, Texas.Released as Podcast on November 30, 2025_____________This series on Orchos Tzadikim/Ways of the Righteous is produced in partnership with Hachzek.Join the revolution of daily Mussar study at hachzek.com.We are using the Treasure of Life edition of the Orchos Tzadikkim (Published by Feldheim)_____________Listen, Subscribe & Share: Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/jewish-inspiration-podcast-rabbi-aryeh-wolbe/id1476610783Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4r0KfjMzmCNQbiNaZBCSU7) to stay inspired! Share your questions at aw@torchweb.org or visit torchweb.org for more Torah content.  _____________About the Host:Rabbi Aryeh Wolbe, Director of TORCH in Houston, brings decades of Torah scholarship to guide listeners in applying Jewish wisdom to daily life.  To directly send your questions, comments, and feedback, please email: awolbe@torchweb.org_____________Support Our Mission:Our Mission is Connecting Jews & Judaism. Help us spread Judaism globally by sponsoring an episode at torchweb.org.Your support makes a HUGE difference!_____________Listen MoreOther podcasts by Rabbi Aryeh Wolbe: NEW!! Prayer Podcast: https://prayerpodcast.transistor.fm/episodesJewish Inspiration Podcast: https://inspiration.transistor.fm/episodesParsha Review Podcast: https://parsha.transistor.fm/episodesLiving Jewishly Podcast: https://jewishly.transistor.fm/episodesThinking Talmudist Podcast: https://talmud.transistor.fm/episodesUnboxing Judaism Podcast: https://unboxing.transistor.fm/episodesRabbi Aryeh Wolbe Podcast Collection: https://collection.transistor.fm/episodesFor a full listing of podcasts available by TORCH at http://podcast.torchweb.org_____________Keywords:#JewishInspiration, #Mussar, #MasterClass, #Remembrance, #Solitude, #Self-reflection, #Hitbodedut, #Gratitude, #Mindfulness, #Trust, #Wealth, #Sins, #Slander, #Adultery, #Falsehoods, #Humility, #Faith, #Omnipotence, #Hardships, #Mercy, #Adversities, #Material, #Wealth ★ Support this podcast ★

Host Piya Chattopadhyay speaks with The Hub's Alberta bureau chief Falice Chin, Calgary-based CBC News journalist Jason Markusoff and The Logic's Ottawa correspondent Laura Osman about Ottawa's energy deal with Alberta, psychologist Robert Coplan explores the virtues of being alone, former Finnish prime minister Sanna Marin reflects on the challenges she faced in office, and forester Peter Kuitenbrouwer traces how maple syrup became a cornerstone of Canadian identity, independence and pride.

Welcome to PGX Raw & Real PGX Raw & Real is simple. I sit with people who've lived through something and/or made it big, and I try to understand what it did to them.Sometimes it gets deep, sometimes it gets weird, sometimes we end up laughing at stories that should've gone very differently just like how real conversations go.This isn't meant to be inspiration or a template for life (for that, you can check out PGX Ideas).This space is different. It's their story, as they experienced it.In this episode I spoke to — Jordan Jonas - one of the leading survivalists and the winner of ALONE Season 6.Timestamps:00:00 - Story he hasn't told anyone08:55 - Jordan on Thrill & Survival 15:58 - His exp. of living in Siberia 22:48 - Hardest Moments on Alone28:41 - Ki*ling a Moose for Survival 33:15 - First Experience of Hunting 45:35 - Has He Ever Seen a Yeti46:40 - He got attacked by wolverine48:56 - Surviving 66 Days alone in Arctic 54:24 - Diff b/w Loneliness & Solitude 56:40 - Living on Trains for 8 Years 01:01:04 - The Problem With Social Media 01:04:25 - What's so special about Himalayas 01:06:53 - Finding Direction in the Jungle01:09:16 - Seeing the Northern Lights 01:13:32 - His Future Plans 01:17:42 - Question for PrakharEnjoy. — Prakhar

Ever notice how being alone can either feel like bliss or like you're disappearing? That's the difference between solitude and isolation, and it can make or break our health. One fills our tank. The other drains our soul. Today, we're diving into what really happens in your body and mind when you choose time alone versus when it chooses US, and how to turn loneliness into a kind of stillness that heals.LINKS: Feel like crap lately? You'r enot alone. And you're not losing it. Get the free guide that finally explains why—and what you can gently do about it.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://jenniferjefferies.com/5things/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ us out⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://jenniferjefferies.com/pelvic-floor-prolapse/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Have you checked out my new Healthy Life Hacks App?