Podcasts about towels

Where do you stand on this one?

Could your irregular cycles, persistent acne, or stubborn weight really be undiagnosed PCOS—just like 75% of women who have it but don't know? That's why in this episode, I'm sitting down with the hosts of the SheMD podcast, top PCOS specialist Dr. Thaïs Aliabadi (celebrity OB, leading PCOS expert, and the doctor trusted by women like Halsey, Khloe Kardashian, and Rihanna) and women's health advocate Mary Alice Haney to reveal why PCOS gets missed, the real symptoms you should be watching for, and what your doctors might be getting wrong about diagnosis.We're breaking down the easy-to-miss red flags, debunking the biggest myths, and giving you the knowledge to confidently advocate for your body no matter how many times you've been dismissed. You'll walk away knowing exactly what to ask for, what matters most, and how to finally get answers.3:59 – Why Over 75% of Women with PCOS Are Undiagnosed And Why That Number Might Be Even Higher 4:30 – How Widely Symptoms Can Vary (and Why That Makes Diagnosis So Tricky) 9:37 – The Three Simple Criteria Doctors Should Use (But Often Don't) for PCOS Diagnosis 11:11 – Why You Don't Need High Testosterone on Bloodwork to Be Diagnosed with PCOS 12:12 – The Top Causes, Symptoms & Family Patterns to Look Out For, Especially If You've Been Told “It's All in Your Head” 17:16 – How Personal Advocacy Beats Medical Dismissal (and Why You Should Never Throw in the Towel) 21:20 – The “Pillars” of PCOS and What Actually Drives Symptoms32:10 – Why Standard Treatments Like Birth Control Miss the Real Root Causes And What You Actually Need for Real Relief 34:38 – What to Ask Your Doctor (or Do at Home) If You Suspect PCOS36:32 – Why Building Knowledge (and Community) Is the #1 Step to Becoming Your Own Health Advocate34:38 – The Overlap with Endometriosis & Why It Matters for Fertility and Long-Term Health36:32 – Why Moms Should Watch for PCOS in Daughters and How One Founder Didn't Get Properly Diagnosed Until Age 45Episode Links:Take the Ovii PCOS Quiz by Dr. Thais AliabadiLearn more about Ovii: Website | InstagramConnect with Dr. Thais Aliabadi: Website | InstagramConnect with Mary Alice: InstagramCheck out their podcast: SHE MD Podcast | Instagram

In this Create Tomorrow episode, host Cassandra Napoli dives into the world of upcycled fashion with Hilary Star de Roy, founder of New York-based Royal Native. Amid the fast-paced trend cycle, Hilary stays true to her brand's ethos of sustainability and community building. Hilary shares her unique journey of transforming vintage textiles into sought-after pieces and the importance of hyper-local retail in fostering genuine connections. Listen in to explore how to balance enduring styles with modern trends and create an authentic and purpose-driven brand.

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不少小伙伴看到这个表达可能会疑惑，"throw" 是扔，"towel" 是毛巾，字面直译好像是 "把毛巾扔出去"，但实际含义和使用场景跟 "扔毛巾" 毫无关系！今天卡卡老师就带你吃透这个超实用的口语表达。"Throw in the towel" 实际意思是 "认输，放弃"，用于在比赛、任务、挑战或困难中承认失败，不再继续努力，语气偏口语化，不管是日常聊天、体育赛事讨论，还是描述生活里的小挫折，都能用得上。关于这个短语的起源，和一项经典运动密切相关 ——拳击运动：在早期的拳击比赛中，没有现在完善的暂停或认输手势，当一方选手的教练认为自己的队员已经没有胜算，甚至可能在比赛中受伤时，就会把手中的毛巾扔进拳击台内，以此向裁判和对手示意 “我们认输，比赛可以结束了”。后来，这个源自拳击场的动作逐渐延伸到日常生活中，“throw in the towel” 就成了 “主动放弃、承认失败” 的代名词。例如：She almost threw in the towel when she failed the driving test,but her friend encouraged her to try again.当驾照考试失败时，她差点就放弃了，但朋友鼓励她再试一次。电影原声：It was impossible to talk some sense into the old man, so I threw in the towel.要跟这老头讲道理是不可能的，所以我认输了。Well, if you say so. You know what? Why don't you just throw in the towel and come home, huh?I'll buy you a ticket.你要这么说我也没办法啦，不然你干脆放弃，回家吧，我给你买张票。更多卡卡老师分享公众号：卡卡课堂 卡卡老师微信：kakayingyu001送你一份卡卡老师学习大礼包，帮助你在英文学习路上少走弯路

This sermon is preached by Pastor Bogdan Kipko, Senior and Founding Pastor of Forward Church. We hope you are encouraged by the message from God's Word, and we are thrilled to help you find hope in Jesus.For more information about Forward Church, please visit: www.forward.fmTo listen to all audio messages from Forward Church, please visit: www.forwardchurchpodcast.comTo support Forward Church financially, please visit: https://bit.ly/fwdchurchFollow Pastor Kipko on Instagram: www.instagram.com/kipko Watch all sermons from Forward Church on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@kipko To get in touch with Forward Church or to request Pastor Bogdan Kipko to speak at your church or event, please send an email to: admin@forward.fm If you are visiting Southern California, we would love to have you come and enjoy the Sunday Service at Forward Church!

The Basin and the Towel, John 13:1-17, 34, 35

We tend to measure spirituality by the verses we read, the sermons we hear, and the meetings we attend. Jesus, instead, talked about foot washing. Humble service of one another in the body of Christ is at the heart of God's plan for the Christian life. This message looks at what happens when believers wash one another's feet.

Send us a textOnce again Jeff and Bryan are doing a deep dive into the comic book world. This time they are tackling Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency: The Salmon of Doubt by IDW. This episode will cover Volume 3, Issue 6 of the nine issues in this series. For a more complete experience, you can view the pages along with us on our YouTube channel at the following link... https://youtu.be/dd6uElfwMkYThis has been a Froods for Thought production.

One lowly pledge must satisfy the girls of Omega U. By QuothTheRamen - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Life as a lowly pledge The day I went to college I thought I had cleaned my last floor. Washed my last dish. Scrubbed my last toilet. I left home after five years too many of flipping burgers and dealing with other people's shit. I was done trying to make a bunch of assholes happy. It took all of one day in a frat to realize I was wrong. The world was filled with unhappy assholes, and they were all my problem."Pledge Needledick! Make sure the floor shines." Beko was the frat vice president. He was about as funny as a cold sore. But he was also a linebacker, so people generally felt obligated to laugh. "It's Cam." I said. "It's Cam what?" "It's Cam, Sir." I said. I did not sigh. It was difficult. "It's pledge Needledick now." Beko woofed. Like a dog. A retarded dog. "We are getting fucked up!" Shaun slid himself between Beko and me, smooth as anyone I had ever seen. "What Beko is trying to say is that today is your night on the chore rota Cam. All pledges take a turn." Shaun was the frat president. And he was probably going to be a senator. "No. I get it. Shit needs cleaning." I said. "Right. Spirit of brotherhood. Don't wait up." Shaun said. "Beko! What have I told you about pissing on the floor?" And, with the sloppy zip of a zipper, I was alone. I had the place to myself, piles of shit to clean up, and a fresh puddle of piss to mop. "I am so fucking stupid." I said. I pledged the frat because Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda was the place for business majors. Just this chapter alone had produced three Fortune 500 CEOs, a couple of Silicon valley royalty, and so many millionaires they stopped keeping track. And business is all about who you know. A poor boy from the shit end of the city who does not know anyone needs to change that. And so I did. And now I was picking up empties while the future leaders of the free world were getting shitfaced and laid. You would think that with so many rich bastards they would have a maid. I was well into the second hour and elbow deep in the world's most disgusting toilet when the doorbell rang. I didn't get up. I just kept scrubbing. Whoever they were here for it certainly was not me. The bell rang again. And again. And then someone starting pressing it like they'd been duct taped to the damn button and then had a seizure. I ripped off my yellow gloves, jogged to the door and opened it. "What the fu-" I started. I did not end that sentence. I saw where it was going, flagged it down, and gave it directions to a new and better place. "How can I help you?" I said. Is this because I am a good person? The kind of person who does not tear people's heads off for no reason? Of course not. I worked in fast food. It was because, on the other side of the door, stood a very pretty young Asian girl in heels, a knit skirt, and a sorority sweater so tight that it had to have been drawn on her. The girl blinked the blink of the slightly high, or the very dumb. "I'm here for Beko." she said. Dumb it is. "He's out right now. I can tell him you called." I said. She blinked again. "I didn't call. I walked." "Right. No. Totally get that. Do you want to leave a message?" "Nope. I want to see Beko." "Tell you what. Come on in. We'll call him." I said. "Let me just wash my hands." She walked in and, with a clear familiarity, walked over to our least disgusting couch and sat on it. I ran to the sink, scrubbed up and came out. Then I called Beko from my cell. He answered on the first ring. "Beko, it's me, Cam. I have a--" I looked at the Asian space cadet quizzically. "June." she said. "--June here to talk to you." "Needledick! I was watching porn on my phone." Beko shouted. Over what must have been one hell of a party. "Now I just see your stupid Needledick name on my phone. Hang up so I can see some titties." So I hung up. "He's very busy right now." I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "Is Joe here?" "No. Just me." "Louis?" "No. He's out." Ryan?" "No. I am the only one here. I am the only Alpha in the house. There is just me. I see you thinking of another name. But he is not here either. I assure you, I am the Alpha and the Omega of people in this house." She looked confused. "No. I am the Omega. Omega Chi Upsilon Mu." She said. Now I was confused. Omega was almost a honor society. It was not your run of the mill sorority. "Pardon?" "I'm an Omega." She smiled. "And I am high as fuck." Ahh. So not dumb. Just really high. "Right. Well is there anyone else you need me to call? I don't want to blow you off, but I still have a lot of cleaning to do." I said. "I want to blow you off." "Is that a pot joke?" "No." She stopped, wrinkled up in a frown, then continued. "At least I don't think so. I need to blow an Alpha." "And why is that?"" "Scavenger hunt. You guys are worth forty points for a facial." "I'm sorry?" Let's step back for a moment. Time to create a Venn diagram. One circle will be "Woman who have sucked my dick." Small circle. Not empty. Filled with women to whom I am forever grateful. Let's have the other circle be "Women who are so fucking hot that I silently apologize after jerking off to their memory." Now, and I want to be totally clear on this, these circles do not intersect. Not even a little. They don't even get written out on the same piece of paper. Imagine too, a circle labelled "Women who let me cum on their face." This circle was empty. Back to the moment. "Tonight is the Omega Scavenger hunt. And I wanna win it." she said. Her smile was tempting me to make a bad decision. "So what do I do?" "Take off your pants. But leave on the Alpha sweatshirt." I reached for my belt, and then years of self-preservation kicked in. "Wait, Beko's not your boyfriend is he? Because he would have an easy time killing me and I would have a hard time stopping him." "Nope. He just has a nice dick." Which is exactly not what I want to think about when I next see Beko. I dropped my pants. Then I closed my eyes and waited for the someone to tell me that this was a terrible terrible prank. What I felt instead was warm breath across my the head of my dick. I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. She'd taken one of the couch cushions and put it on the floor in front of me. She was kneeling on it, her face just inches away from me. I was not hard. But that was not going to last. She traced her fingers up my thigh, sliding them slowly up, I bit my lip as I watched her. Her hand slid under my balls, then she ran a finger from my ass all the way to where they hung. All the while her hot breath surrounded me. I'd never watched myself get hard before, but it was happening so fast it barely registered. One minute her hand lightly cupped my balls and the next I am so damn hard that it almost slaps me in the stomach. "You like this?" She asked, as she ran her soft cheek along the head. "I'm neither dead nor gay, so yes." "Good." She said. The she wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft, holding it up. She leaned in and alternated between soft kisses and quick licks as she worked her way up. I balled my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. She teased and licked her way up, until her mouth was just at the head. Then she looked up at me, winked, and took me in her mouth. I'd had my dick sucked before. I thought it was awesome. It turns out that everyone who came before was just shit. She ran her tongue under my shaft, her mouth wet and ready. She swirled it against the hole at the tip, then leaned in, taking inch after inch. She did not slow. She did not stop. She took me in until her nose was flush against me, her chin touching my balls. She winked again. And then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, she let me out. Her tongue made every inch of my man flesh electric. I reached down to her head, but she just brushed me off, then waved her finger in the classic naughty naughty gesture. Chastened, I put my hands behind my head and groaned. She firmly wrapped one hand around my root, and with the other cupped my balls, pressing a finger against my taint. She leaned forward again, taking me until her lips reached her hand. She began to rock her head back and forth, slowly at first. Her hand stayed with her lips, making every rock a long slow stroke of my dick, with the wet miracle of her mouth keeping me on edge. I took a deep breath as she started speeding up. Every downstroke felt my cock getting wetter, every upstroke felt my balls getting tighter. Her free hand was rubbing my taint, teasing my balls, and driving me crazy. I felt my hips go loose as I adopted her rhythm. Pulling away when she pulled away. Pushing in as she pushed in. I felt myself in the back of her throat, then running the length of her tongue. She kept a wet suction that gave me no respite. I felt myself pushing the pace now. Seeing her, so gorgeous, so sexy so fucking good at sucking a cock was too much. I pushed so hard she gagged. I pulled out so far the cool air hit me. But she did not stop. Her grip on my shaft tighten. She slammed me into her mouth as if daring me to try to stop. I was off balance, standing on my toes, my dick falling into her amazing mouth, my eyes seeing stars. "Fucking Christ! I'm going to blow!" I said. She sped up, moving so fast she got blurry. I felt my load begin, rumbling from the depths of me up my shaft. She felt it too, and right when it was about to escape she learned back, her hands continuing to work the shaft. I exploded on to her. On her cheek, her perfect nose, her hair. And she put her face right against me. Pulling me still, milking every last drop onto her skin. I was in love. So it is a clear understatement when I say I was surprised when the flash went off. "Did you just take a selfie?" I said. "Yep. Gotta get the points." She said. "I forgot about that." And I had. This was clearly a one-time thing. But at least I closed the Venn diagram. "So June, could you send me that?" "Nope." "Right." I reached for the paper towel roll that remained from my cleaning and offered it to her. "Towel?" I said. She smiled the gorgeous smile, buried under layers of my spunk. "Nope. I'll wear it out. Extra five points." And, just like that, she was gone. It was the best thirty minutes of my life so far. Of course, by the end of the night it would be the third best thirty minutes of my life. One lowly pledge must make her nasty video dreams come true. I found pizza under a couch. Not a pizza box. No box to be found. Not a single slice, but instead eight slices, composing a whole pizza of what I can only assume was pepperoni pizza, all perfectly arranged under the couch. Like it was being delivered to hungry mice whose ordering reach far exceeds their grasp. Or a bunch of morons with the munchies. Fifty/fifty. I had been tempted, only briefly, to leave the pizza out as a reminder to my frat brothers to clean up after themselves. But, given the bags of filth I trucked out to the dumpster, this cause was lost. I tossed the pizza in with the condom wrappers, used dental floss, and random crusty Kleenex that so recently littered our floors. You might think that I would be unhappy, cleaning up after a couple dozen very well connected douchebags. And, on a normal night, you would be right. But this was not a normal night. This was a night in which the mere fact of my association with Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda resulted in me getting the kind of blow job reserved for men with excessive body hair, giant cigars, and private armies. A night in which one of the hottest women I had ever seen allowed me to not only cover a tile in ethnic bingo (Row: BJ, Column: Asian. Bingo!) but also had me paint her face like a drunken Jackson Pollack. So while I may be the lowest man on a very mangy totem pole, I was also a man who had had my pole waxed. I was in a post orgasm glow, and oscillated between absolute disbelief that I might ever be so lucky, and a profound fear that the best thing that might ever happen to me had already happened. It was deep into one of these swings into self-doubt, and deep into a pile of what I could only assume were once out dishes, that the doorbell rang. It may seem crazy to you that I did not run to the door. It may seem crazy to you that I did not even leave the dishes behind. But, to be clear, you are three hundred words into chapter two. I assumed I was living in the boring epilogue of chapter one. So I did not walk to the door. And I did not run. Instead I picked up the next sorry excuse for a plate and started scrubbing. The doorbell rang again. With feeling. And then again. Eventually I realized that whomever was pushing it was actually tapping out a beat. A lively bossa nova thing. And they were not going anywhere. No night is perfect. I put the dish down, dried off my hands, and walked to the door. The persistent beat made my feet want to run, but I kept them under control. I stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and opened it. "Welcome to Alpha Nu, how can I help you?" It was dark outside. But she was very blonde. The kind of blonde that happens when you have hair bleach and a wandering mind. The hair framed a lovely face, ghostly pale. And now I was staring. She smiled, a thousand watt thing. "You can help me by getting out of my way." "What?" "'How can you help me?'" She said. "You just asked. Then you got stupid." "Right. No. Come in. I'm Cam." I moved out of the way She pushed past me, pulling a giant roller bag. "I'm Mary. But everyone calls me Daisy." "Why is that?" She hit me with the smile again. "Because I tell them to." She put the bag down, then spun around like a Julie Andrews on a German mountain. This caused her slightly modest sundress to become much less modest, and gave me a lovely view of a pair of runner's legs. And I was staring again. "This will have to do. It's funny, because the place looks so classy outside. All bricks and ivy. Then you come in and it looks like someone threw up on the floor." She said. "Someone does throw up on the floor. Every day. His name is Ted. He calls it clearing his throat." Daisy looked at me with an expression that I could not place. Something between amused and irritated. "Let the artist work, dear." She said. "And that is not the visual I want in my head." She stalked around the room, framing parts with her fingers. "I want sultry. I want dark. I want something that oozes passion and hunger and need." She said. "It's a dump. A dump with couches that are so nasty they make crunching sounds when you sit on them." I said. "It needs lighting. It needs ambiance. It needs to be perfect." "Perfect for what?" I asked. "This!" She said. Then she handed me a piece of paper. I scanned it. "Is this a shot list?" "Of course. You can't direct without one." "And everything on this-" I waved the sheet. "Is going to happen here?" "Of course." "Who is playing willing young co-ed?" I asked. "Me. I am the star of all my works." "And who is playing the hard and ready young stud?" "Well Cam, I was going to audition the boys," She said. And then that smile almost knocked me down. "but you're the only one here. So... are you up for it?" I started pulling off my pants. She put a hand on my chest. "Hold up cowboy. You've seen the shot list. Not until scene 3. Now help me set up." You might think a roller bag would only hold a small amount of film equipment. You would be wrong. You might think that setting up lights, area mikes, a camera, and a bunch of shit that I do not have names for would be difficult with an erection. You would be right. But, given the proper motivation, all work can be rewarding. "I've never seen anyone work so fast." She said. "I'm a lover of film." I said. "You know, I don't normally ask questions when an absurdly attractive woman asks me to make a porno with her-" "You get asked that a lot?" She said, as she was draping sheets over the couch. "More than I'd have ever thought." I said. "But why are we making a porno?" "Because I am an Omega Mu. And this is our annual scavenger hunt." She said. "This video should be worth 355 points, should you be able to keep your load in for every shot." "So, I'm just going to ask this." I said. I looked up and saw her fiddling with the camera. It took me a second to refocus from looking down her dress at her very impressive rack. She caught me looking, and smiled behind the viewfinder. "Why are you doing this at all. This is not me trying to scare you away, I am just really curious." She stopped for a second, and pulled a couple of wispy blonde strands from in front of her face to behind her ear. I don't know that I believe in any god, but if one exists he must be damn happy with his work here. "Do you know how competitive Omega Mu is? The girls there are driven to be great. They will walk off this campus and into lives that most people only dream of. And I'm a film major. They don't respect what I do. They don't understand it. Most of them can't even be bothered to stay awake during my films." She stepped close, so close I could smell strawberries and the faintest hint of excitement. "But they will stay awake for this one. By the time I'm done showing it to them they'll be sitting in puddles of their own juice, awkwardly fidgeting and looking for any excuse to get back to their rooms and get their stuck up snatches off. That room will absolutely stink of arousal and lust and need. And they will know that I am one hell of a filmmaker." My dick was threatening to leave my body and go into orbit. "Is the camera rolling? I need it to be rolling." I said. She pointed at the red light. "It's been rolling for the last five minutes. Take off your shirt." I took my shirt off so damn fast I nearly sprained my shoulders. "I don't have a script." "We'll improvise." She closed her eyes and leaned in. I laid my fingers on top of her hand, gliding them up her arm, to her shoulders. I traced her collarbone, then ran them up her neck, to her cheek. Her lips parted. I leaned in to meet them with my own. I felt a slight shudder as they touched, and I wondered if perhaps all her confidence masked a delicacy, a pure and innocent nature, uncorrupted by all the debauchery that surrounds her. Then I felt a firm hand against my chest. It shoved me on to the couch. I fell with no resistance. She walked up to me, put one leg up by my head and pulled up her dress, revealing absolutely no underwear. "You will lick the living shit out of my pussy. If you're lucky I'll let you lick my ass. And If you do a very good job at that I will let you put that monster trying to escape your jeans balls deep inside me." I am a terrible judge of character. That delicate flower ground her incredibly wet pussy into my face. I am not the smartest guy. And I am no actor. But I certainly take direction. I put my hands on her thighs to steady her, then teased her outer lips with my tongue, splitting them, letting them close, tasting her mix of sweat and natural lubrication. I pulled the inner lips between mine, tracing them up to the hard nub. I ran my lips against it, lightly at first, teasing it with my tongue. She rocked her hips into my face, grinding her clit against my lips. I sped up my tongue to meet her urgency, tightening my grip on her legs, pulling her into me. Her juices flowed all over my jaw, pooling on my chest. She lowered her hands to my head and pulled me in so tight I could barely breathe. "Faster you bastard! If I don't get off you don't get off." Being a gentleman, I obliged the lady. But I knew that speed alone was not going to be enough. I freed one of my hands and ran it between her legs. I took her clit between my lips and raced my tongue along it, feeling it pulse with her arousal. A feeling matched only with the untended arousal currently in my pants. "You can't go too hard with me. And you sure as hell aren't going hard enough." I am competitive. Ninety nine percent of the time it is a terrible flaw. This day, not so much. I found an extra gear and pulsed my tongue against her, moving so fast that I got sloppy, and was licking the whole of her pubis. I slipped a couple fingers into her depths, probing until I found the rough patch of her G-spot, then timed my strokes outside with those inside. "Fuck. Just keep doing that." She said. Then words became groans, moved to soft moans, quickly strung together and rising in pitch. I kept up a steady rhythm, feeling her body stiffen, her strong legs go taut, her breathing get ragged. "Fuck me." She shouted. "Fuck Me!" She pulled my head in hard, rubbing herself against me. Her clit ground against me, tracing a wet line on my lips. She gasped, then caught her breath. "Fuck" Her body went slack. I eased my lips off of her. Took my fingers out, running them along my tongue to capture the taste. I lowered her to the couch, then reached for my belt. She smiled. And I wanted her so badly that there was no terrible thing I would not have done. "Not yet. You're only halfway there. And I need more points." And with that she spread her legs, then pulled her knees in. Now, to be clear, at that point I'd have cut off my left arm to fuck her. So eating her ass was not going to be a problem. I dove right the fuck in. I kissed the cutest pinkest prettiest little asshole that I had ever seen. It was wet with her juices and my spit, and I could not help but run my lips upon the rim. She gasped when my lips touched, and it puckered tightly. I blew on it, seeing it shrink with the cold. I ran my tongue under it, watching it loosen as she got aroused. He hands drifted to her pussy, and she spread it apart with one, then ran two fingers through. A delicate strand of drool ran between her fingers and her pussy, and it was all I could do to not ram my tongue against her pretty pucker. My resolve lasted for about two seconds. Then she started grinding her wet fingertips on her clit and I started pushing my tongue against her. Probing for resistance, feeling her tense. I could hear her fingers, sloppily running, making the wet noises of sex and driving me out of my goddamn mind. She sped up and I pushed my tongue right against her flower. I'd read her rhythm, I waited for my moment, and when it came I pushed into her ass. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" She shouted. I didn't stop. It felt like a compliment. I ran my fingers into her again, easing in a couple, felling myself fill her, wanting so much to put more into her. She rocked herself back and forth, using me as a tool to get her off. I was happy with this arrangement. Tongue, fingers and mind were all synchronized as she took control. Her breathing sped up, but I kept my pace. Her rocking increased, her hungry pussy pulling my fingers in, but I was patient. I knew I would get what I wanted and she was about to get hers. "Don't. Fuck. This. Up." She said. Each word punctuated with a thrust. "I'm. Going. To. Cum." And as she said it I felt the signs. She bottomed out on my fingers, her wet pussy spasmed against them. Her ass rippled against my tongue, Her toes curled, and then I got a face full of what I can only assume was her ejaculate. Given what I had done to June it only felt fair. Daisy put both legs on the ground and stood up. Her dress fell back over her assets, robbing me of the wonderful view. "That was worth an extra 20 points. So I am very happy." She said. "I think it is time to make you very happy. Take off your pants." You can't rip off blue jeans. Denim is not a fabric that rips. But you can get them off so fast that short one high speed camera no one can tell the difference. "Stay on the couch." She said. She lifted one spaghetti strap and slowly pulled it over her shoulder. Then the other one. The dress fell noiselessly to the ground. She wore no bra. She didn't need one. Her breasts were as amazing as I had hoped, and the rest of her runner's body was more than I could possibly have dreamed. Taut muscle and soft flesh played in perfect harmony. She stepped towards me, putting one knee outside my legs, then the other. She lifted herself up on her knees, so that she could look down on me, her perfect breasts damn near poking my eyes out. "How badly do you want to fuck me." She said. I could feel all of the wet between her legs dripping on me. My dick twitched like a divining rod on the Mississippi. I looked into those amazing blue eyes and said "A lot." She smiled. "I'll fix that in editing." Then she lowered herself onto me. I wanted to thrust. To take her. To put my hands on her hips, give in to the animal inside me, and slam myself into that perfect wet pussy until I exploded deep within her. But I did not. It nearly killed me, but I kept my shit together. I wanted this to last as long as possible. I felt the lips slowly divide, taking in the head. There was no friction, just heat and wet. She put her forearms on my shoulder, leaned in close, pressed her chest against mine, and brought her lips to my ear. "I love the way you smell. Your sweat and my juices have me so fucking hot." I didn't say anything. I couldn't. She lowered herself a little more. I felt the first inch of me squeezed into her depths. "You want to take me. Use me. The way I used you." I groaned. Her tongue teased my ear. She pushed further, inviting more of me in. "I don't know how you're holding off. Am I not wet enough for you? Tight enough?" I said nothing. My concentration was all I had left. She slid down a bit, her wetness running down my shaft. "Or maybe you're not man enough to take what you want." I put my hands on her hips. Put my lips to her ears. And I stage whispered, loud enough for the camera to hear. "You talk too much." My hips rose. Hers descended. She gasped, but I had been patient for too long. I lifted her, pulled out, then pushed back in. I lifted one arm around her back and pulled her close to me, feeling those tremendous breasts push against me, feeling the muscles in her back tighten. "You're going to match me, stroke for stroke. You are going to match my pace, you are going to match my enthusiasm, and I swear to god you are going to cum with me. I have done everything you wanted. Everything you told me to do. And I am going to fuck the shit out of you." She stopped. And I was struck with terror that I had overplayed my hand. But that smile, dear lord that smile. "I knew you had it in you tiger." She lowered herself to meet me. We started slow, with her walls teasing every bit of me. Each deliberate thrust brought with it a host of mind bending sensations. I locked eyes with her. Saw her passion and need as she pulled me in. Watched her groan every time I bottomed out, watched her grind her pubic bone against mine, trying to get all the stimulation she could. I could have gone forever, but she was a performer. Her pace quickened. I sped up to match. I lowered my head to her breast. She pulled me in, forcing it into my mouth, responding to the suction, the delicate nibble,. My speed increasing, my erection an iron bar straining inside her. Her moans getting louder, my excitement reaching a crest. All pretense of erotic sex had been abandoned. I pushed myself into her with violence, she responded in kind. Our bodies slapped against each other. My hands were gripping her hard runner's ass for dear life, her nails dug into my back. The only word I could say was fuck. The only thing I could do was fuck, All I ever wanted to do was fuck. But all the servicing of this woman had taken its toll. No man could resist her for long. "Now cum for me." I said. I don't know who came first. I came so hard I blacked out for a second, every sense shutting down so that I could bust the world's most righteous nut. She had taken me all the way into her, so deep I could feel every bit of the inside of her, and it was all squeezing me as she pulsed through her own orgasm. I don't know if I've ever cum more. I'm not sure I could. After a minute she stretched out, still impaled on me, giving me an eyeful that I will take with me to the grave and far beyond. "And cut." She said. Then she got up and walked to the camera. Everything I'd left behind was running down her leg and she did not mind at all. "Are you sure you've never acted before? You seem like a natural." "Is this pillow talk?" "No. A direct question." "Ahh. No. Not since I was a tree in the 3rd grade musical." She finished packing the camera. "You must have been one hell of a tree. Now help me clean up." I broke down the lights and the mics. I stole every glance I could. If this was going to be the best night of my life I wanted to remember every bit of it. Far too quickly we were packed. She pulled on her dress. I pulled on my clothes. She turned to leave. "Daisy. stop." I said. "Can I give you my number? In case of rewrites or something?" Daisy reached into her bag, and pulled something out. The she hit me with that smile one last time. "Here's my card. I'll be honest, your ear for dialogue is shit, so you will in no way be involved with a rewrite." She said. "But, if you are ever looking to fuck again, my cell is on the back." I stood stock still and watched her walk away. Shock does terrible things to a man. Then I spent the next fifteen minutes memorizing her phone number, because I am not a complete idiot. The day may come when I forget who I am, where I came from, and everything I have ever cared about. And on that day will still be able to recite all 10 fucking digits because some shit is too damn important to forget.  By QuothTheRamen for Literotica

Beers & Breakevens for Round 3 of Finals. Shout out to our major sponsor Launtel for coming on board for 2025!Check them out:https://partners.launtel.io/beers-and-breakevensBlue Wealth Property:Blue Wealth have seen a decent uptick in client enquires over the last month, it clear that there are a heap of people wanting to get the details they need to invest in property. We are likely to see interest rates drop through the remainder of this year which ultimately mean property prices will rise. The best time to invest is always 20 years ago, the second best time is now. Reach out to the team at blue wealth for a discovery call and find out if you're in a position to start investing in property. Email beers@bluewealth.com.au to book a chat with the Blue Wealth team today.https://www.bluewealth.com.au/https://www.bluewealth.com.au/book-a-discovery-call/Join the Ru Crew for exclusive content and a sneak-peek into NRL SuperCoach content for 2025https://www.patreon.com/c/RugbyLeagueGuru/If you're interested in sponsoring the show - shoot us an email! beersandbreakevens@gmail.comFollow Rugby League Guru:https://www.instagram.com/rugbyleagueguru/Follow SC Playbook:https://www.instagram.com/scplaybook1/Follow Kat:https://www.instagram.com/kathaddad/00:00 Intro 08:00 Team Lists + who to target from each team Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

One lowly pledge must satisfy the girls of Omega U. By QuothTheRamen - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Life as a lowly pledge The day I went to college I thought I had cleaned my last floor. Washed my last dish. Scrubbed my last toilet. I left home after five years too many of flipping burgers and dealing with other people's shit. I was done trying to make a bunch of assholes happy. It took all of one day in a frat to realize I was wrong. The world was filled with unhappy assholes, and they were all my problem."Pledge Needledick! Make sure the floor shines." Beko was the frat vice president. He was about as funny as a cold sore. But he was also a linebacker, so people generally felt obligated to laugh. "It's Cam." I said. "It's Cam what?" "It's Cam, Sir." I said. I did not sigh. It was difficult. "It's pledge Needledick now." Beko woofed. Like a dog. A retarded dog. "We are getting fucked up!" Shaun slid himself between Beko and me, smooth as anyone I had ever seen. "What Beko is trying to say is that today is your night on the chore rota Cam. All pledges take a turn." Shaun was the frat president. And he was probably going to be a senator. "No. I get it. Shit needs cleaning." I said. "Right. Spirit of brotherhood. Don't wait up." Shaun said. "Beko! What have I told you about pissing on the floor?" And, with the sloppy zip of a zipper, I was alone. I had the place to myself, piles of shit to clean up, and a fresh puddle of piss to mop. "I am so fucking stupid." I said. I pledged the frat because Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda was the place for business majors. Just this chapter alone had produced three Fortune 500 CEOs, a couple of Silicon valley royalty, and so many millionaires they stopped keeping track. And business is all about who you know. A poor boy from the shit end of the city who does not know anyone needs to change that. And so I did. And now I was picking up empties while the future leaders of the free world were getting shitfaced and laid. You would think that with so many rich bastards they would have a maid. I was well into the second hour and elbow deep in the world's most disgusting toilet when the doorbell rang. I didn't get up. I just kept scrubbing. Whoever they were here for it certainly was not me. The bell rang again. And again. And then someone starting pressing it like they'd been duct taped to the damn button and then had a seizure. I ripped off my yellow gloves, jogged to the door and opened it. "What the fu-" I started. I did not end that sentence. I saw where it was going, flagged it down, and gave it directions to a new and better place. "How can I help you?" I said. Is this because I am a good person? The kind of person who does not tear people's heads off for no reason? Of course not. I worked in fast food. It was because, on the other side of the door, stood a very pretty young Asian girl in heels, a knit skirt, and a sorority sweater so tight that it had to have been drawn on her. The girl blinked the blink of the slightly high, or the very dumb. "I'm here for Beko." she said. Dumb it is. "He's out right now. I can tell him you called." I said. She blinked again. "I didn't call. I walked." "Right. No. Totally get that. Do you want to leave a message?" "Nope. I want to see Beko." "Tell you what. Come on in. We'll call him." I said. "Let me just wash my hands." She walked in and, with a clear familiarity, walked over to our least disgusting couch and sat on it. I ran to the sink, scrubbed up and came out. Then I called Beko from my cell. He answered on the first ring. "Beko, it's me, Cam. I have a--" I looked at the Asian space cadet quizzically. "June." she said. "--June here to talk to you." "Needledick! I was watching porn on my phone." Beko shouted. Over what must have been one hell of a party. "Now I just see your stupid Needledick name on my phone. Hang up so I can see some titties." So I hung up. "He's very busy right now." I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "Is Joe here?" "No. Just me." "Louis?" "No. He's out." Ryan?" "No. I am the only one here. I am the only Alpha in the house. There is just me. I see you thinking of another name. But he is not here either. I assure you, I am the Alpha and the Omega of people in this house." She looked confused. "No. I am the Omega. Omega Chi Upsilon Mu." She said. Now I was confused. Omega was almost a honor society. It was not your run of the mill sorority. "Pardon?" "I'm an Omega." She smiled. "And I am high as fuck." Ahh. So not dumb. Just really high. "Right. Well is there anyone else you need me to call? I don't want to blow you off, but I still have a lot of cleaning to do." I said. "I want to blow you off." "Is that a pot joke?" "No." She stopped, wrinkled up in a frown, then continued. "At least I don't think so. I need to blow an Alpha." "And why is that?"" "Scavenger hunt. You guys are worth forty points for a facial." "I'm sorry?" Let's step back for a moment. Time to create a Venn diagram. One circle will be "Woman who have sucked my dick." Small circle. Not empty. Filled with women to whom I am forever grateful. Let's have the other circle be "Women who are so fucking hot that I silently apologize after jerking off to their memory." Now, and I want to be totally clear on this, these circles do not intersect. Not even a little. They don't even get written out on the same piece of paper. Imagine too, a circle labelled "Women who let me cum on their face." This circle was empty. Back to the moment. "Tonight is the Omega Scavenger hunt. And I wanna win it." she said. Her smile was tempting me to make a bad decision. "So what do I do?" "Take off your pants. But leave on the Alpha sweatshirt." I reached for my belt, and then years of self-preservation kicked in. "Wait, Beko's not your boyfriend is he? Because he would have an easy time killing me and I would have a hard time stopping him." "Nope. He just has a nice dick." Which is exactly not what I want to think about when I next see Beko. I dropped my pants. Then I closed my eyes and waited for the someone to tell me that this was a terrible terrible prank. What I felt instead was warm breath across my the head of my dick. I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. She'd taken one of the couch cushions and put it on the floor in front of me. She was kneeling on it, her face just inches away from me. I was not hard. But that was not going to last. She traced her fingers up my thigh, sliding them slowly up, I bit my lip as I watched her. Her hand slid under my balls, then she ran a finger from my ass all the way to where they hung. All the while her hot breath surrounded me. I'd never watched myself get hard before, but it was happening so fast it barely registered. One minute her hand lightly cupped my balls and the next I am so damn hard that it almost slaps me in the stomach. "You like this?" She asked, as she ran her soft cheek along the head. "I'm neither dead nor gay, so yes." "Good." She said. The she wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft, holding it up. She leaned in and alternated between soft kisses and quick licks as she worked her way up. I balled my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. She teased and licked her way up, until her mouth was just at the head. Then she looked up at me, winked, and took me in her mouth. I'd had my dick sucked before. I thought it was awesome. It turns out that everyone who came before was just shit. She ran her tongue under my shaft, her mouth wet and ready. She swirled it against the hole at the tip, then leaned in, taking inch after inch. She did not slow. She did not stop. She took me in until her nose was flush against me, her chin touching my balls. She winked again. And then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, she let me out. Her tongue made every inch of my man flesh electric. I reached down to her head, but she just brushed me off, then waved her finger in the classic naughty naughty gesture. Chastened, I put my hands behind my head and groaned. She firmly wrapped one hand around my root, and with the other cupped my balls, pressing a finger against my taint. She leaned forward again, taking me until her lips reached her hand. She began to rock her head back and forth, slowly at first. Her hand stayed with her lips, making every rock a long slow stroke of my dick, with the wet miracle of her mouth keeping me on edge. I took a deep breath as she started speeding up. Every downstroke felt my cock getting wetter, every upstroke felt my balls getting tighter. Her free hand was rubbing my taint, teasing my balls, and driving me crazy. I felt my hips go loose as I adopted her rhythm. Pulling away when she pulled away. Pushing in as she pushed in. I felt myself in the back of her throat, then running the length of her tongue. She kept a wet suction that gave me no respite. I felt myself pushing the pace now. Seeing her, so gorgeous, so sexy so fucking good at sucking a cock was too much. I pushed so hard she gagged. I pulled out so far the cool air hit me. But she did not stop. Her grip on my shaft tighten. She slammed me into her mouth as if daring me to try to stop. I was off balance, standing on my toes, my dick falling into her amazing mouth, my eyes seeing stars. "Fucking Christ! I'm going to blow!" I said. She sped up, moving so fast she got blurry. I felt my load begin, rumbling from the depths of me up my shaft. She felt it too, and right when it was about to escape she learned back, her hands continuing to work the shaft. I exploded on to her. On her cheek, her perfect nose, her hair. And she put her face right against me. Pulling me still, milking every last drop onto her skin. I was in love. So it is a clear understatement when I say I was surprised when the flash went off. "Did you just take a selfie?" I said. "Yep. Gotta get the points." She said. "I forgot about that." And I had. This was clearly a one-time thing. But at least I closed the Venn diagram. "So June, could you send me that?" "Nope." "Right." I reached for the paper towel roll that remained from my cleaning and offered it to her. "Towel?" I said. She smiled the gorgeous smile, buried under layers of my spunk. "Nope. I'll wear it out. Extra five points." And, just like that, she was gone. It was the best thirty minutes of my life so far. Of course, by the end of the night it would be the third best thirty minutes of my life. One lowly pledge must make her nasty video dreams come true. I found pizza under a couch. Not a pizza box. No box to be found. Not a single slice, but instead eight slices, composing a whole pizza of what I can only assume was pepperoni pizza, all perfectly arranged under the couch. Like it was being delivered to hungry mice whose ordering reach far exceeds their grasp. Or a bunch of morons with the munchies. Fifty/fifty. I had been tempted, only briefly, to leave the pizza out as a reminder to my frat brothers to clean up after themselves. But, given the bags of filth I trucked out to the dumpster, this cause was lost. I tossed the pizza in with the condom wrappers, used dental floss, and random crusty Kleenex that so recently littered our floors. You might think that I would be unhappy, cleaning up after a couple dozen very well connected douchebags. And, on a normal night, you would be right. But this was not a normal night. This was a night in which the mere fact of my association with Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda resulted in me getting the kind of blow job reserved for men with excessive body hair, giant cigars, and private armies. A night in which one of the hottest women I had ever seen allowed me to not only cover a tile in ethnic bingo (Row: BJ, Column: Asian. Bingo!) but also had me paint her face like a drunken Jackson Pollack. So while I may be the lowest man on a very mangy totem pole, I was also a man who had had my pole waxed. I was in a post orgasm glow, and oscillated between absolute disbelief that I might ever be so lucky, and a profound fear that the best thing that might ever happen to me had already happened. It was deep into one of these swings into self-doubt, and deep into a pile of what I could only assume were once out dishes, that the doorbell rang. It may seem crazy to you that I did not run to the door. It may seem crazy to you that I did not even leave the dishes behind. But, to be clear, you are three hundred words into chapter two. I assumed I was living in the boring epilogue of chapter one. So I did not walk to the door. And I did not run. Instead I picked up the next sorry excuse for a plate and started scrubbing. The doorbell rang again. With feeling. And then again. Eventually I realized that whomever was pushing it was actually tapping out a beat. A lively bossa nova thing. And they were not going anywhere. No night is perfect. I put the dish down, dried off my hands, and walked to the door. The persistent beat made my feet want to run, but I kept them under control. I stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and opened it. "Welcome to Alpha Nu, how can I help you?" It was dark outside. But she was very blonde. The kind of blonde that happens when you have hair bleach and a wandering mind. The hair framed a lovely face, ghostly pale. And now I was staring. She smiled, a thousand watt thing. "You can help me by getting out of my way." "What?" "'How can you help me?'" She said. "You just asked. Then you got stupid." "Right. No. Come in. I'm Cam." I moved out of the way She pushed past me, pulling a giant roller bag. "I'm Mary. But everyone calls me Daisy." "Why is that?" She hit me with the smile again. "Because I tell them to." She put the bag down, then spun around like a Julie Andrews on a German mountain. This caused her slightly modest sundress to become much less modest, and gave me a lovely view of a pair of runner's legs. And I was staring again. "This will have to do. It's funny, because the place looks so classy outside. All bricks and ivy. Then you come in and it looks like someone threw up on the floor." She said. "Someone does throw up on the floor. Every day. His name is Ted. He calls it clearing his throat." Daisy looked at me with an expression that I could not place. Something between amused and irritated. "Let the artist work, dear." She said. "And that is not the visual I want in my head." She stalked around the room, framing parts with her fingers. "I want sultry. I want dark. I want something that oozes passion and hunger and need." She said. "It's a dump. A dump with couches that are so nasty they make crunching sounds when you sit on them." I said. "It needs lighting. It needs ambiance. It needs to be perfect." "Perfect for what?" I asked. "This!" She said. Then she handed me a piece of paper. I scanned it. "Is this a shot list?" "Of course. You can't direct without one." "And everything on this-" I waved the sheet. "Is going to happen here?" "Of course." "Who is playing willing young co-ed?" I asked. "Me. I am the star of all my works." "And who is playing the hard and ready young stud?" "Well Cam, I was going to audition the boys," She said. And then that smile almost knocked me down. "but you're the only one here. So... are you up for it?" I started pulling off my pants. She put a hand on my chest. "Hold up cowboy. You've seen the shot list. Not until scene 3. Now help me set up." You might think a roller bag would only hold a small amount of film equipment. You would be wrong. You might think that setting up lights, area mikes, a camera, and a bunch of shit that I do not have names for would be difficult with an erection. You would be right. But, given the proper motivation, all work can be rewarding. "I've never seen anyone work so fast." She said. "I'm a lover of film." I said. "You know, I don't normally ask questions when an absurdly attractive woman asks me to make a porno with her-" "You get asked that a lot?" She said, as she was draping sheets over the couch. "More than I'd have ever thought." I said. "But why are we making a porno?" "Because I am an Omega Mu. And this is our annual scavenger hunt." She said. "This video should be worth 355 points, should you be able to keep your load in for every shot." "So, I'm just going to ask this." I said. I looked up and saw her fiddling with the camera. It took me a second to refocus from looking down her dress at her very impressive rack. She caught me looking, and smiled behind the viewfinder. "Why are you doing this at all. This is not me trying to scare you away, I am just really curious." She stopped for a second, and pulled a couple of wispy blonde strands from in front of her face to behind her ear. I don't know that I believe in any god, but if one exists he must be damn happy with his work here. "Do you know how competitive Omega Mu is? The girls there are driven to be great. They will walk off this campus and into lives that most people only dream of. And I'm a film major. They don't respect what I do. They don't understand it. Most of them can't even be bothered to stay awake during my films." She stepped close, so close I could smell strawberries and the faintest hint of excitement. "But they will stay awake for this one. By the time I'm done showing it to them they'll be sitting in puddles of their own juice, awkwardly fidgeting and looking for any excuse to get back to their rooms and get their stuck up snatches off. That room will absolutely stink of arousal and lust and need. And they will know that I am one hell of a filmmaker." My dick was threatening to leave my body and go into orbit. "Is the camera rolling? I need it to be rolling." I said. She pointed at the red light. "It's been rolling for the last five minutes. Take off your shirt." I took my shirt off so damn fast I nearly sprained my shoulders. "I don't have a script." "We'll improvise." She closed her eyes and leaned in. I laid my fingers on top of her hand, gliding them up her arm, to her shoulders. I traced her collarbone, then ran them up her neck, to her cheek. Her lips parted. I leaned in to meet them with my own. I felt a slight shudder as they touched, and I wondered if perhaps all her confidence masked a delicacy, a pure and innocent nature, uncorrupted by all the debauchery that surrounds her. Then I felt a firm hand against my chest. It shoved me on to the couch. I fell with no resistance. She walked up to me, put one leg up by my head and pulled up her dress, revealing absolutely no underwear. "You will lick the living shit out of my pussy. If you're lucky I'll let you lick my ass. And If you do a very good job at that I will let you put that monster trying to escape your jeans balls deep inside me." I am a terrible judge of character. That delicate flower ground her incredibly wet pussy into my face. I am not the smartest guy. And I am no actor. But I certainly take direction. I put my hands on her thighs to steady her, then teased her outer lips with my tongue, splitting them, letting them close, tasting her mix of sweat and natural lubrication. I pulled the inner lips between mine, tracing them up to the hard nub. I ran my lips against it, lightly at first, teasing it with my tongue. She rocked her hips into my face, grinding her clit against my lips. I sped up my tongue to meet her urgency, tightening my grip on her legs, pulling her into me. Her juices flowed all over my jaw, pooling on my chest. She lowered her hands to my head and pulled me in so tight I could barely breathe. "Faster you bastard! If I don't get off you don't get off." Being a gentleman, I obliged the lady. But I knew that speed alone was not going to be enough. I freed one of my hands and ran it between her legs. I took her clit between my lips and raced my tongue along it, feeling it pulse with her arousal. A feeling matched only with the untended arousal currently in my pants. "You can't go too hard with me. And you sure as hell aren't going hard enough." I am competitive. Ninety nine percent of the time it is a terrible flaw. This day, not so much. I found an extra gear and pulsed my tongue against her, moving so fast that I got sloppy, and was licking the whole of her pubis. I slipped a couple fingers into her depths, probing until I found the rough patch of her G-spot, then timed my strokes outside with those inside. "Fuck. Just keep doing that." She said. Then words became groans, moved to soft moans, quickly strung together and rising in pitch. I kept up a steady rhythm, feeling her body stiffen, her strong legs go taut, her breathing get ragged. "Fuck me." She shouted. "Fuck Me!" She pulled my head in hard, rubbing herself against me. Her clit ground against me, tracing a wet line on my lips. She gasped, then caught her breath. "Fuck" Her body went slack. I eased my lips off of her. Took my fingers out, running them along my tongue to capture the taste. I lowered her to the couch, then reached for my belt. She smiled. And I wanted her so badly that there was no terrible thing I would not have done. "Not yet. You're only halfway there. And I need more points." And with that she spread her legs, then pulled her knees in. Now, to be clear, at that point I'd have cut off my left arm to fuck her. So eating her ass was not going to be a problem. I dove right the fuck in. I kissed the cutest pinkest prettiest little asshole that I had ever seen. It was wet with her juices and my spit, and I could not help but run my lips upon the rim. She gasped when my lips touched, and it puckered tightly. I blew on it, seeing it shrink with the cold. I ran my tongue under it, watching it loosen as she got aroused. He hands drifted to her pussy, and she spread it apart with one, then ran two fingers through. A delicate strand of drool ran between her fingers and her pussy, and it was all I could do to not ram my tongue against her pretty pucker. My resolve lasted for about two seconds. Then she started grinding her wet fingertips on her clit and I started pushing my tongue against her. Probing for resistance, feeling her tense. I could hear her fingers, sloppily running, making the wet noises of sex and driving me out of my goddamn mind. She sped up and I pushed my tongue right against her flower. I'd read her rhythm, I waited for my moment, and when it came I pushed into her ass. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" She shouted. I didn't stop. It felt like a compliment. I ran my fingers into her again, easing in a couple, felling myself fill her, wanting so much to put more into her. She rocked herself back and forth, using me as a tool to get her off. I was happy with this arrangement. Tongue, fingers and mind were all synchronized as she took control. Her breathing sped up, but I kept my pace. Her rocking increased, her hungry pussy pulling my fingers in, but I was patient. I knew I would get what I wanted and she was about to get hers. "Don't. Fuck. This. Up." She said. Each word punctuated with a thrust. "I'm. Going. To. Cum." And as she said it I felt the signs. She bottomed out on my fingers, her wet pussy spasmed against them. Her ass rippled against my tongue, Her toes curled, and then I got a face full of what I can only assume was her ejaculate. Given what I had done to June it only felt fair. Daisy put both legs on the ground and stood up. Her dress fell back over her assets, robbing me of the wonderful view. "That was worth an extra 20 points. So I am very happy." She said. "I think it is time to make you very happy. Take off your pants." You can't rip off blue jeans. Denim is not a fabric that rips. But you can get them off so fast that short one high speed camera no one can tell the difference. "Stay on the couch." She said. She lifted one spaghetti strap and slowly pulled it over her shoulder. Then the other one. The dress fell noiselessly to the ground. She wore no bra. She didn't need one. Her breasts were as amazing as I had hoped, and the rest of her runner's body was more than I could possibly have dreamed. Taut muscle and soft flesh played in perfect harmony. She stepped towards me, putting one knee outside my legs, then the other. She lifted herself up on her knees, so that she could look down on me, her perfect breasts damn near poking my eyes out. "How badly do you want to fuck me." She said. I could feel all of the wet between her legs dripping on me. My dick twitched like a divining rod on the Mississippi. I looked into those amazing blue eyes and said "A lot." She smiled. "I'll fix that in editing." Then she lowered herself onto me. I wanted to thrust. To take her. To put my hands on her hips, give in to the animal inside me, and slam myself into that perfect wet pussy until I exploded deep within her. But I did not. It nearly killed me, but I kept my shit together. I wanted this to last as long as possible. I felt the lips slowly divide, taking in the head. There was no friction, just heat and wet. She put her forearms on my shoulder, leaned in close, pressed her chest against mine, and brought her lips to my ear. "I love the way you smell. Your sweat and my juices have me so fucking hot." I didn't say anything. I couldn't. She lowered herself a little more. I felt the first inch of me squeezed into her depths. "You want to take me. Use me. The way I used you." I groaned. Her tongue teased my ear. She pushed further, inviting more of me in. "I don't know how you're holding off. Am I not wet enough for you? Tight enough?" I said nothing. My concentration was all I had left. She slid down a bit, her wetness running down my shaft. "Or maybe you're not man enough to take what you want." I put my hands on her hips. Put my lips to her ears. And I stage whispered, loud enough for the camera to hear. "You talk too much." My hips rose. Hers descended. She gasped, but I had been patient for too long. I lifted her, pulled out, then pushed back in. I lifted one arm around her back and pulled her close to me, feeling those tremendous breasts push against me, feeling the muscles in her back tighten. "You're going to match me, stroke for stroke. You are going to match my pace, you are going to match my enthusiasm, and I swear to god you are going to cum with me. I have done everything you wanted. Everything you told me to do. And I am going to fuck the shit out of you." She stopped. And I was struck with terror that I had overplayed my hand. But that smile, dear lord that smile. "I knew you had it in you tiger." She lowered herself to meet me. We started slow, with her walls teasing every bit of me. Each deliberate thrust brought with it a host of mind bending sensations. I locked eyes with her. Saw her passion and need as she pulled me in. Watched her groan every time I bottomed out, watched her grind her pubic bone against mine, trying to get all the stimulation she could. I could have gone forever, but she was a performer. Her pace quickened. I sped up to match. I lowered my head to her breast. She pulled me in, forcing it into my mouth, responding to the suction, the delicate nibble,. My speed increasing, my erection an iron bar straining inside her. Her moans getting louder, my excitement reaching a crest. All pretense of erotic sex had been abandoned. I pushed myself into her with violence, she responded in kind. Our bodies slapped against each other. My hands were gripping her hard runner's ass for dear life, her nails dug into my back. The only word I could say was fuck. The only thing I could do was fuck, All I ever wanted to do was fuck. But all the servicing of this woman had taken its toll. No man could resist her for long. "Now cum for me." I said. I don't know who came first. I came so hard I blacked out for a second, every sense shutting down so that I could bust the world's most righteous nut. She had taken me all the way into her, so deep I could feel every bit of the inside of her, and it was all squeezing me as she pulsed through her own orgasm. I don't know if I've ever cum more. I'm not sure I could. After a minute she stretched out, still impaled on me, giving me an eyeful that I will take with me to the grave and far beyond. "And cut." She said. Then she got up and walked to the camera. Everything I'd left behind was running down her leg and she did not mind at all. "Are you sure you've never acted before? You seem like a natural." "Is this pillow talk?" "No. A direct question." "Ahh. No. Not since I was a tree in the 3rd grade musical." She finished packing the camera. "You must have been one hell of a tree. Now help me clean up." I broke down the lights and the mics. I stole every glance I could. If this was going to be the best night of my life I wanted to remember every bit of it. Far too quickly we were packed. She pulled on her dress. I pulled on my clothes. She turned to leave. "Daisy. stop." I said. "Can I give you my number? In case of rewrites or something?" Daisy reached into her bag, and pulled something out. The she hit me with that smile one last time. "Here's my card. I'll be honest, your ear for dialogue is shit, so you will in no way be involved with a rewrite." She said. "But, if you are ever looking to fuck again, my cell is on the back." I stood stock still and watched her walk away. Shock does terrible things to a man. Then I spent the next fifteen minutes memorizing her phone number, because I am not a complete idiot. The day may come when I forget who I am, where I came from, and everything I have ever cared about. And on that day will still be able to recite all 10 fucking digits because some shit is too damn important to forget.  By QuothTheRamen for Literotica

The honorable Judge Amy Kaye judges Playhouse Family grudges See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Send us a textOnce again Jeff and Bryan are doing a deep dive into the comic book world. This time they are tackling Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency: The Salmon of Doubt by IDW. This episode will cover Volume 3, Issue 5 of the nine issues in this series. For a more complete experience, you can view the pages along with us on our YouTube channel at the following link... https://youtu.be/WTtC806DUnEThis has been a Froods for Thought production.

Episode Summary: In this episode, Sam sits down with body intelligence coach Shantani Moore for a powerful conversation on nervous system performance, stress metabolism, and living a full out life. Shantani shares her personal journey and practical tools for navigating stress, parenting, and embracing authenticity. What You'll Learn in This Episode: The nervous system as the CEO of your life: how it drives decisions, courage, and fear Why stress metabolism is about moving through stress, not eliminating it Practical embodiment tools like the "towel growl" for daily release Parenting insights on modeling emotional expression and imperfection The importance of authenticity, vulnerability, and being your fullest self "Buffalo medicine": why facing challenges head-on is the path to freedom Fear-setting: preparing for fears as a framework for courage The value of lived experience, resourcefulness, and showing up even when life feels hard The power of community, collective healing, and supporting one another Let's connect on IG: @samanthajoharvey @fullout_podcast ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grab Sam's free POWER PORTAL GUIDEBOOK with 7 days of actionable steps to come home to you and unlock your next level. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- JOIN THE FULL OUT MOVEMENT: for the mom juggling a million things. For the entrepreneur chasing her vision with coffee in one hand a self-doubt in the other. For the woman who's doing all the things right, checking all the boxes, but the magic is missing. We're a community of women who nourish and celebrate you in your FULLness because we've seen the massive impact one woman has. When she rises in her power, she creates a ripple that wakes up every single woman around her.  This movement was made for you. JOIN US HERE. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- GUEST BIO: Shantani Moore | Body Intelligence Coach Shantani Moore is the Body Intelligence Coach you need as the secret sauce behind your success. Specializing in Nervous System Performance, she's worked with top 1% global wellness leaders, celebrities, and corporations over the past decade. She has been featured in major outlets like Women's Health, Equinox, and Lululemon. Shantani has inspired thousands of people all over the world to claim the lives they want – and retire the status quo lives they've been sold. Freebie: QUIZ: What Wild Animal Runs Your Subconscious: https://quiz.tryinteract.com/#/6866afa7636bc2001545e80e  IG: @somaticceo: https://www.instagram.com/somaticceo/  Apply to work 1:1: https://www.shantanimoore.com/apply  General Website: www.shantanimoore.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- FULL OUT FOUNDATIONS: Sam's self-paced course designed to help women rewire limiting beliefs, activate their true potential, and build lasting confidence. Grab it HERE and get $50 off with code ‘PODCAST' ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Wanna stay up to date on all things Full Out + get motivational content sent right to your inbox? Join our mailing list here. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grab Sam's favorite daily greens drinks for gut health, collagen-building and clean energy.    Shop Sam's favorite Melinda Maria Jewelry. Use code: SAMANTHAJO for 10% off.  Tune in to the next episode of Full Out for weekly motivation and practical tools and tips to let go of your blocks, step into your power, and own that you are worthy of having everything you want in your life, business, and relationships. We love ratings and reviews! xo.

Dan Woike joins the show to talk about his experience covering Luka Doncic at the Eurobasket tournament. One MLB fired their entire scouting staff!? A doctor was fired for partking in some extracurricular activities while he was on break during a surgical procedure.

Today on the Show Jerry and Manaia auctioned off Jerry's old towels... Plus we have another Mastermind Situation on our hands...See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Pastor Drew Zylstra preaches from John 13:1-17, “The Discipline of Service.” —————————— More […]

A message about our selflessness, charity and serving.

This episode of Bone to Pick is pure chaos in the best way possible. Robert Kelly, Paul Virzi, and Big Mike dive headfirst into bones about everything from overpriced pet emergencies to the insanity of fancy towels that don't dry, gas tanks on the wrong side of cars, and restaurants that only give you useless hand dryers. Along the way, they tackle AI girlfriends, obituary writing with ChatGPT, and why store security tags make honest shoppers feel like criminals. With fan-submitted bones adding extra fuel, the laughs get bigger, the rants get sharper, and nothing is off-limits. Whether you're here for outrageous personal stories, brutally relatable complaints, or just to hear grown men argue about towels and belt loops, this episode proves once again why Bone to Pick is the therapy session you didn't know you needed. Join the Patreon at patreon.com/bonetopickcast

Jesus not only told us to serve one another, He modeled it for us. Let's look at Jesus' mentality leading Him to serve. For more information on The Gathering, check out our website thegathering.online  

Series: Signs & GloryTitle: How Do We Become People of the Towel?Subtitle: Scripture: John 13:1-17Philippians 2:6-8Mark 10:45Bottom line: We become people of the towel when we believe Jesus' love, receive his cleansing, and follow his example.INTRODUCTIONCONTEXTSERMON OUTLINECONCLUSIONNOTESOUTLINESQUESTIONS TO CONSIDER DISCUSSION QUESTIONSMAIN REFERENCES USEDOpening prayer: Lord God, help us grow to be and do like Jesus, while abiding in him and leading others to do the same. INTRODUCTION“In 2003, when the United States invaded Iraq, I sat glued to my television set for days and watched the amazing footage that was broadcast. One scene that stands out in my mind from those days was the jubilant celebration of the Iraqi people as U.S. Marines pulled down a forty-foot statue of Saddam Hussein in Baghdad. The statue was torn from its pedestal and dragged through the streets, and children were shown riding on the head of the statue as if it were a sled. But I also remember the way in which the people of Iraq used their shoes or their sandals to pound against the statue and the posters of Saddam that were still being displayed in Baghdad. The commentators explained that among the Iraqi people, to beat a person or even a person's image with one's shoe is to show the deepest possible form of contempt for that person...The Iraqi people's actions helped me understand the depth of lowliness to which Jesus stooped when He handled His disciples' filthy feet in this ritual of cleansing. We have already discussed the fact that in antiquity, when a rabbi had disciples, they typically acted as his servants. However, they were never required to wash the rabbi's feet; that task was reserved for slaves. But even some slaves were spared this task. Within Israel, if a Jewish person had a Jewish slave, the slave owner was not permitted to require that slave to wash his feet. Only a Gentile slave could be required to perform such a menial task. So the fact that Jesus Himself undertook this task, and that He did it during Holy Week, fills this narrative with theological and ethical significance for us.”John - An Expositional Commentary, R.C. SproulBottom line: We become people of the towel when we believe Jesus' love, receive his cleansing, and follow his example.CONTEXT"Jesus had entered Jerusalem on Sunday, and on Monday had cleansed the temple. Tuesday was a day of conflict as the religious leaders sought to trip Him up and get evidence to arrest Him. These events are recorded in Matthew 21–25. Wednesday was probably a day of rest, but on Thursday He met in the Upper Room with His disciples in order to observe Passover...What was this divinely appointed “hour”? It was the time when He would be glorified through His death, resurrection, and ascension. From the human point of view, it meant suffering; but from the divine point of view, it meant glory."Wiersbe, W. W. (1996). The Bible exposition commentary (Vol. 1, p. 344). Victor Books.OUTLINE (w/ help from Kent Hughes and ChatGPT)I. Believe the Heart of His Love (John 13:1–3)• Jesus loved His own “to the end” — pointing to the cross (Romans 5:8).• His mission has always been loving service: "For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." Mark 10:45• Application: You cannot serve others well until you rest secure in Jesus' agape love for you.II. Be Washed by His Cleansing (John 13:4–11)• Jesus lays aside His garment and stoops to wash dirty feet — a preview of the cross.• Peter resists, but Jesus insists: “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”• Only the Servant who came to save (Luke 19:10) can cleanse us fully.• Application: Humble service flows only from hearts first cleansed by Jesus' sacrifice.III. Follow His Example in Humble Service (John 13:12–17)• After washing, He asks: “Do you understand what I have done to you?”• If the Lord and Teacher has washed feet, we must do likewise.• Paul echoes this: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus… He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:5–8).• Application: Knowing His love and cleansing, we pick up the towel and bless others through ordinary, humble acts of service.⸻"The Upper Room Discourse begins with a dramatic call to follow Christ's example as a servant--to be people of the towel." -Hughes"How do we become people of the towel?We must observe the marvelous example of our foot-washing Lord and Savior and then listen to Jesus' challenge: 'If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet.'Perhaps most important, we must have the quality of Jesus' heart. 'Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.'Finally, we become people of the towel by realizing who we are. The power, the impetus, and the grace to wash one another's feet is proportionate not only to how we see Jesus but how we see ourselves. Our Lord saw himself as King of kings, and he washed the disciples' feet. Recovery of a kingly consciousness will hallow and refine our entire lives. We are 'a royal priesthood.' (1 Peter 2:9)" -Hughes"If you know these things, blessed areyou if you do them." John 13:17The Heart of the Servant (13:1-3)"The final sentence gives us his heart: "Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end." The servant's heart is a heart of love. A story about Czar Nicholas I of Russia tells us something of that love. The czar was greatly interested in a young man because he had been friends with the young man's father. When that young man came of age, Czar Nicholas gave him a fine position in the army. He also stationed him in a place of responsibility at one of the great fortresses of Russia. The young man was responsible for the monies and finances of a particular division of the army.The young man did quite well at first, but as time went along, he became quite a gambler. Before long he had gambled his entire fortune away. He borrowed from the treasury and also gambled that away, a few rubles at a time.One day he heard there was going to be an audit of the books the next day. He went to the safe, took out his ledger, and figured out how much money he had, then subtracted the amount he had taken. As he sat at the table, overwhelmed at the astronomical debt, he took out his pen and wrote, "A great debt, who can pay?" Not willing to go through the shame of what would happen the next day, he took out his revolver and covenanted with himself that at the stroke of midnight he would take his life.It was a warm and drowsy night, and as the young man sat at the table, he dozed off. Now, Czar Nicholas had a habit of putting on a common soldier's uniform and visiting some of his outposts. On that very night he came to that particular great fortress, and as he inspected it, he saw a light on in one of the rooms. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. He tried the latch, opened the door, and went in. There was the young man. The czar recognized him immediately. When he saw the note on the table and the ledgers laid out, his first impulse was to wake the young man and arrest him. But, overtaken with a wave of generosity, he instead took the pen that had fallen out of the soldier's hand and wrote one word on the paper, then tiptoed out of the room.About an hour later the young man woke up and reached for his revolver, realizing that it was much after twelve. Then his eyes fell upon his note: "A great debt, who can pay?" He saw immediately that one word had been added -"Nicholas." The young man dropped the gun, ran to the files, thumbed through some correspondence, and found the czar's signature. The note was authentic! The realization struck him —"The czar has been here and knows all my guilt. But he has undertaken my debt, and I will not have to die." The young man trusted in the czar's word, and sure enough, the needed monies came?The czar's love, paying the price for his guilty young friend, was only a faint shadow of the atoning love of Christ. Nicholas's deed was an easy matter for him —as easy as signing his name. But the atoning love of Jesus cost him everything!The tenses at the end of verse 1, "having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end," means that in the whole range of Christ's contact with his disciples he loved them!" -HughesThe Example of the Servant (13:4-11)The Challenge of the Servant (13:12-17)"According to John, the Lord gave the disciples two explanations of his washing of their feet - one while he was engaged in washing them, and the other after he had taken his place with them at the supper table again. The former, as we have seen, is theological in character: the foot-washing symbolizes Jesus' humbling himself to endure the death of the cross and the cleansing efficacy of his death for the believer. The latter, unfolded in verses 12-17, is practical in character: Jesus has washed their feet in order that from his example they may learn to perform similar service one for another.There is no incongruity between the two explanations; it is quite unnecessary to suppose that they must be due to two different authors. The second explanation is very much in line with Luke's account of the conversation which took place between the Lord and the disciples at the Last Supper (Luke 22:24-27), in which he drew their attention to his own example; but in Mark's counterpart to that conversation, which appears in an earlier context (Mark 10:35-45), Jesus' example of lowly service is brought into the closest association with the sacrifice of the cross: if any one of their number wants to be first, he 'must be slave of all' - because 'the Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many'. The close association of the two themes in this Johannine context, accordingly, is perfectly natural`..." -FF BruceJudas was an unbeliever (John 6:64–71), so he did not have a “shield of faith” to use to ward off Satan's attacks...Even in His humiliation, our Lord had all things through His Father. He was poor and yet He was rich. Because Jesus knew who He was, where He came from, what He had, and where He was going, He was complete master of the situation. You and I as believers know that we have been born of God, that we are one day going to God, and that in Christ we have all things; therefore, we ought to be able to follow our Lord's example and serve others...What Jesus knew helped determine what Jesus did (John 13:4–5)...The Father had put all things into the Son's hands, yet Jesus picked up a towel and a basin! His humility was not born of poverty, but of riches. He was rich, yet He became poor (2 Cor. 8:9). A Malay proverb says, “The fuller the ear is of rice-grain, the lower it bends.”...Jesus was the Sovereign, yet He took the place of a servant. He had all things in His hands, yet He picked up a towel...It has well been said that humility is not thinking meanly of yourself; it is simply not thinking of yourself at all. True humility grows out of our relationship with the Father.Wiersbe, W. W. (1996). The Bible exposition commentary (Vol. 1, p. 345). Victor Books.Rick Warren used to say, "Humility isn't thinking less of yourself. It's thinking of yourself less."We today, just like the disciples that night, desperately need this lesson on humility. The church is filled with a worldly spirit of competition and criticism as believers vie with one another to see who is the greatest. We are growing in knowledge, but not in grace (see 2 Peter 3:18). “Humility is the only soil in which the graces root,” wrote Andrew Murray. “The lack of humility is the sufficient explanation of every defect and failure.”The word translated “wash” in John 13:5–6, 8, 12, and 14 is nipto and means “to wash a part of the body.” But the word translated “washed” in John 13:10 is louo and means “to bathe all over.” The distinction is important, for Jesus was trying to teach His disciples the importance of a holy walk.When the sinner trusts the Saviour, he is “bathed all over” and his sins are washed away and forgiven (see 1 Cor. 6:9–11; Titus 3:3–7; and Rev. 1:5). “And their sins and iniquities will I remember no more” (Heb. 10:17). However, as the believer walks in this world, it is easy to become defiled. He does not need to be bathed all over again; he simply needs to have that defilement cleansed away. God promises to cleanse us when we confess our sins to Him (1 John 1:9).But why is it so important that we “keep our feet clean”? Because if we are defiled, we cannot have communion with our Lord. “If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with Me” (John 13:8). The word translated “part” is meros, and it carries the meaning here of “participation, having a share in someone or something.” When God “bathes us all over” in salvation, He brings about our union with Christ; and that is a settled relationship that cannot change. (The verb wash in John 13:10 is in the perfect tense. It is settled once and for all.) However, our communion with Christ depends on our keeping ourselves “unspotted from the world” (James 1:27). If we permit unconfessed sin in our lives, we hinder our walk with the Lord; and that is when we need to have our feet washed.Wiersbe, W. W. (1996). The Bible exposition commentary (Vol. 1, p. 346). Victor Books.Referring to Jesus humbling himself and cf. to Philippians 2:5-9, RC Sproul writes, “It was not His deity but His dignity that Jesus laid aside. He emptied Himself of the glory that He enjoyed with His Father from all eternity. He laid aside His prerogatives as the second person of the Trinity. For the sake of His people, He descended from glory to lay down His life.”“That is proper, for Jesus was not instituting a sacrament that was to be repeated on a regular basis among the people of God, and we know that for this reason: the central significance of Jesus' washing of His disciples' feet has to do with baptism, which is the sacrament of the entrance into the new covenant. Baptism signifies many things, but at the very heart of the symbolism of baptism is the idea of cleansing” -R.C. Sproul“He knew who would betray him, but He washed all their feet, even the feet of Judas, but not without the warning that the cleansing He spoke of would not apply to every one of them.”“Those who give themselves in service to others find deep joy in it.”Excerpt FromJohn - An Expositional CommentaryR.C. SproulCONCLUSION"The Upper Room Discourse begins with a dramatic call to follow Christ's example as a servant--to be people of the towel." -HughesHow do we become people of the towel?We must observe the marvelous example of our foot-washing Lord and Savior and then listen to Jesus' challenge: 'If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet.'Perhaps most important, we must have gthe quality of Jesus' heart. 'Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.'Finally, we become people of the towel by realizing who we are. The power, the impetus, and the grace to wash one another's feet is proportionate not only to how we see Jesus but how we see ourselves. Our Lord saw himself as King of kings, and he washed the disciples' feet. Recovery of a kingly consciousness will hallow and refine our entire lives. We are 'a royal priesthood.' (1 Peter 2:9)"If you know these things, blessed areyou if you do them." John 13:17This basic truth of Christian living is beautifully illustrated in the Old Testament priesthood. When the priest was consecrated, he was bathed all over (Ex. 29:4), and that experience was never repeated. However, during his daily ministry, he became defiled; so it was necessary that he wash his hands and feet at the brass laver in the courtyard (Ex. 30:18–21). Only then could he enter the holy place and trim the lamps, eat the holy bread, or burn the incense...We can learn an important lesson from Peter: don't question the Lord's will or work, and don't try to change it. He knows what He is doing...John was careful to point out that Peter and Judas were in a different relationship with Jesus. Yes, Jesus washed Judas' feet! But it did Judas no good because he had not been bathed all over. Some people teach that Judas was a saved man who sinned away his salvation, but that is not what Jesus said. Our Lord made it very clear that Judas had never been cleansed from his sins and was an unbeliever (John 6:64–71)...John 13:17 is the key—“If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them.” The sequence is important: humbleness, holiness, then happiness. Aristotle defined happiness as “good fortune joined to virtue … a life that is both agreeable and secure.” That might do for a philosopher, but it will never do for a Christian believer! Happiness is the by-product of a life that is lived in the will of God. When we humbly serve others, walk in God's paths of holiness, and do what He tells us, then we will enjoy happiness...The servant (slave) is not greater than his master; so, if the master becomes a slave, where does that put the slave? On the same level as the master! By becoming a servant, our Lord did not push us down: He lifted us up! He dignified sacrifice and service. You must keep in mind that the Romans had no use for humility, and the Greeks despised manual labor. Jesus combined these two when He washed the disciples' feet. The world asks, “How many people work for you?” but the Lord asks, “For how many people do you work?" When I was ministering at a conference in Kenya, an African believer shared one of their proverbs with me: “The chief is servant of all.” How true it is that we need leaders who will serve and servants who will lead. G.K. Chesterton said that a really great man is one who makes others feel great, and Jesus did this with His disciples by teaching them to serve...Be sure to keep these lessons in their proper sequence: humbleness, holiness, happiness. Submit to the Father, keep your life clean, and serve others. This is God's formula for true spiritual joy.Wiersbe, W. W. (1996). The Bible exposition commentary (Vol. 1, p. 347). Victor Books.“We can transfer that warning to everyone reading this book. If you are reading this and have not been washed by Christ, you will have no part with Him in the Father's house. Jesus was preparing His disciples for that cleansing that would once and for all deliver them from their sin” -R.C. Sproul“We've already seen Jesus making the point in the final weeks of His life, “Unless you're willing to participate in My humiliation, you have no part in My exaltation.” Our very baptism is a sign not only of our being raised with Christ, but of our being buried with Christ. It is a sign that we join Him in His humiliation so that we may have a part in His glory.”“Jesus told Simon, “He who is bathed needs only to wash his feet, but is completely clean” (v. 10a). In the ancient world, when a person took a bath, he was clean until he walked outside in the dust in his bare feet or in open sandals. He could keep the rest of his body relatively clean, but his feet got dirty quickly. That's why there was the ritual of the cleansing of the feet without having to take a complete bath. Jesus told Peter, “When I wash your feet, I make you clean all over.” One touch of the cleansing power of Christ cleanses us from all sin.” -RC SproulIllustration:In 1912, when the Titanic struck the iceberg, there weren't enough lifeboats. Hundreds were left in the freezing Atlantic waters. One survivor later testified that while clinging to debris, she heard a man swimming from person to person, shouting, “Are you saved? Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved!” That man was John Harper, a Scottish pastor. He gave away his life jacket to another passenger, and with his last breaths he pleaded with people to turn to Christ before they slipped under the waves.Connection to Sermon:Like those passengers, every one of us is sinking without Christ. The signs have been given, the call is clear—Jesus is the light of the world, sent not to condemn but to save. His words are life, but they will also be our judge. Don't harden your heart. Step into His light today while there is still time.INVITATIONWhat about you? Peter puts it all in perspective in his first sermon:““Therefore let all Israel be assured of this: God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Messiah.” When the people heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and the other apostles, “Brothers, what shall we do?” Peter replied, “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call.”” ‭‭Acts‬ ‭2‬:‭36‬-‭39‬ ‭NIV‬‬How do we respond? Answer 2 questions:Take out a card or piece of paper right now. Write down the answer to these questions: What is God saying to me right now?What am I going to do about it? Write this down on a sheet of paper. What I hear you saying, Lord, is ___________________.[my name] is going to believe/do __________________________________________________ as a result.Finally, share this with your Home or Mission group this week when you gather as a testimony about what God is doing in your life. You don't have to get too specific to give him praise.Lord's Supper, 1 Cor 11:23-26 is good passage.Also, say something like, "Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again." (past, present, and future)PrayNOTES"In 1970 I was among 12,300 delegates to Inter-Varsity's Urbana conven-tion, where we heard John Stott give a masterful application of the truth of this passage. He told a story about Samuel Logan Brengle:In 1878 when William Booth's Salvation Army had just been so named, men from all over the world began to enlist. One man, who had once dreamed of himself as a bishop, crossed the Atlantic from America to England to enlist. He was a Methodist minister, Samuel Logan Brengle. And he now turned from a fine pastorate to join Booth's Salvation Army. Brengle later became the Army's first American-born commissioner. But at first Booth accepted his services reluctantly and grudgingly. Booth said to Brengle, "You've been your own boss too long." And in order to instill humility into Brengle, he set him to work cleaning the boots of the other trainees. And Brengle said to himself, "Have I followed my own fancy across the Atlantic in order to black boots?" And then as in a vision he saw Jesus bending over the feet of rough, unlettered fishermen. "Lord," he whispered, "You washed their feet: I will black their boots."If we are to count ourselves as followers of Christ, there must be humble service in our lives. We must be people of the towel." -Hughes"Perhaps as good a commentary as any on our passage is supplied by the following paragraph from the biography of Robert Cleaver Chapman:No task was too lowly for Chapman. Visitors were particularly impressed by his habit of cleaning the boots and shoes of his guests.Indeed, it was on this point he met with most resistance, for those who stayed with him were conscious that despite the simplicity of his house he was a man of good breeding, and when they had heard him minister the Word with gracious authority, they were extremely sensitive about allowing him to perform so menial a task for them. But he was not to be resisted. On one occasion a gentleman, having regard no doubt to his host's gentle birth and high spiritual standing, refused at first to let him take away his boots. 'T insist', was the firm reply. 'In former days it was the practice to wash the saints' feet. Now that this is no longer the custom, I do the nearest thing, and clean their shoes." -FF BruceOUTLINESee aboveQUESTIONS TO CONSIDERWhat do I want them to know? Why do I want them to know it?What do I want them to do?Why do I want them to do it?How do they do this?DISCUSSION QUESTIONSDiscovery Bible Study process: https://www.dbsguide.org/Read the passage together.Retell the story in your own words.Discovery the storyWhat does this story tell me about God?What does this story tell me about people?If this is really true, what should I do?What is God saying to you right now? (Write this down)What are you going to do about it? (Write this down)Who am I going to tell about this?Find our sermons, podcasts, discussion questions and notes at https://www.gracetoday.net/podcastAlternate Discussion Questions (by Jeff Vanderstelt): Based on this passage:Who is God?What has he done/is he doing/is he going to do?Who am I? (In light of 1 & 2)What do I do? (In light of who I am)How do I do it?Final Questions (Write this down)What is God saying to you right now? What are you going to do about it?MAIN REFERENCES USED“John,” by R. Kent Hughes, Preaching the Word Commentary, Edited by Kent HughesExalting Jesus in John, by Matt Carter & Josh WredbergThe Gospels & Epistles of John, FF BruceJohn, RC SproulJohn, KöstenbergerThe Gospel According to John, DA CarsonLet's Study John, Mark JohnstonThe Light Has Come, Leslie Newbigin (TLHC)The Visual Word, Patrick Schreiner (TVW)“Look at the Book” by John Piper (LATB)“The Bible Knowledge Commentary” by Walvoord, Zuck (BKC)“The Bible Exposition Commentary” by Warren Wiersbe (BEC)Thru The Bible with J. Vernon McGee (TTB)Outline Bible, D Willmington (OB)NIV Study Bible (NIVSB) https://www.biblica.com/resources/scholar-notes/niv-study-bible/Chronological Life Application Study Bible (NLT)ESV Study Bible (ESVSB) https://www.esv.orgThe Bible Project https://bibleproject.comNicky Gumbel bible reading plan app or via YouVersionClaude.aiChatGPT AIGrok AIPerplexity.aiGoogle Gemini AI

Is it typical to have towels nobody is allowed to use?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Date: Sunday, September 6th 2025Speaker: Pastor Greg HillScripture: John 13:1-17

Welcome to Gateway!Welcome to the final message of our summer series, Rhythm & Flame! Check out and share this week's message with a friend!Join us for church online every Sunday at 10:30am (MST).If you received Christ through this message, let us know! Go to gateway.ac/believe and connect with us, get resources, and let us partner with you as you start your journey of faith.If you would like resources on going deeper, check out all our deeper resources at gateway.ac/deeperWe would love to hear how God is touching your life through this ministry! Share your story with us by connecting with us here: gateway.ac/connectIf you would like to support Gateway financially you can give online through our website by clicking here: gateway.ac/giveIf you need prayer, connect with us here: gateway.ac/connectIf God did something amazing your life, you can share your testimony with us at gateway.ac/shareFor more information about Gateway Alliance Church, visit gateway.ac or follow us on our social media platforms below.Instagram- https://instagram.com/gatewayedmontonFacebook- https://facebook.com/gatewayedmontonYoutube- https://youtube.com/gatewayyeg

How often do you use a bath towel before you swap it out for a new clean one? We got way too into this chat, and learned too much about each other. And another Back to School Spelling Bee goes down.

In John 13, Jesus didn't just share a meal; He set the model for discipleship by picking up a towel and washing His disciples' feet. The table represents comfort, position, and consumption, but the towel represents humility, service, and transformation. Tonight's message, Take Your Towel, challenges us to stop settling for the table life of consuming and start living the towel life of serving, where pride is wiped away and Christ is truly revealed. The question is: are you gripping the table, or will you take your towel?

Send us a textOnce again Jeff and Bryan are doing a deep dive into the comic book world. This time they are tackling Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency: The Salmon of Doubt by IDW. This episode will cover Volume 3, Issue 4 of the nine issues in this series. For a more complete experience, you can view the pages along with us on our YouTube channel at the following link... https://youtu.be/-0tF8yuwKIAThis has been a Froods for Thought production.

Ellensburg Dollar Tree cashier refuses to sell towels ‘made in Israel,’ quits after manager steps in. Seattle Mayor Bruce Harrell and other King County officials held a press conference today about light rail expansion being way over budget. North Seattle is teaming up with non-profits to crack down on gun violence on Aurora Avenue. // LongForm: GUEST: Sheriff Keith Swank posted about trans shooters and he says the media wants to silence him. // Quick Hit: The City of Everett needlessly lowers the speed limit. Trump is moving Space Command from Colorado to Alabama.

5:05pm – The Foosh's 3rd hero Paul Rufino. How often do you wash your sheets & towels? Bidet vs. Duvet. Sounds similar but do very different things 5:20pm – Shower before you go to bed...Conway takes two showers a day. 5:35pm – Guest: Paul Ruffino, The Foosh's third hero joins Tim Conway to discuss helping the Foosh during his car accident 5:50pm – Guest: Paul Ruffino continued... 

What happens when fame fades, money runs out, and identity slips away? In 2005, Anthony Hutton became an overnight celebrity after winning Big Brother. aged just 23.  Within days, he had agents, photo shoots, and hundreds of thousands of pounds in the bank. But when the cameras switched off, eventually life unravelled into drink, drugs, and even passive thoughts of suicide. Today, his story looks very different. As a barber, keynote speaker, and founder of the Never Throw In The Towel Project, Anthony is creating spaces where men can talk, connect, and choose life. In this powerful conversation, Anthony shares the raw truth about: The exhilarating high of instant fame and how and why it nearly destroyed him.The spiral into addiction, financial chaos, and passive suicidal thoughts.The turning point that came not from therapy, but from taking action and starting over.How barbering became Anthony's lifeline and why the barber's chair is one of the most powerful spaces for men to talk.Why men often won't talk unless the setting is ‘in disguise' and how barbershops, boxing gyms, and forests can provide those essential safe spaces. How his grandmother's legacy inspired the Never Throw In The Towel Project.What he's learned about resilience, fate, and the mindset shift that saved him.How retreats, storytelling, and community are helping men in the UK talk, connect, and choose life.Anthony's story is one of fame, loss, resilience, and purpose. It's raw, honest, and full of lessons for anyone who has ever struggled in silence or watched someone they love fall apart. His message is clear: the bad times don't last, and connection saves lives. For more information, visit the website Never Throw in the Towel Project, and you can find Anthony on LinkedIn.

Send us a textOnce again Jeff and Bryan are doing a deep dive into the comic book world. This time they are tackling Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency: The Salmon of Doubt by IDW. This episode will cover Volume 3, Issue 3 of the nine issues in this series. For a more complete experience, you can view the pages along with us on our YouTube channel at the following link... https://youtu.be/pKNKhD-Lf8gThis has been a Froods for Thought production.

ICYMI (SERIOUSLY, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?) Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are engaged. Jessie, Amelia and Holly are joined by a very special guest, MMOL official Taylor Swift correspondent Mia Freedman to decode the whole shebang. And when we say 'are joined', it was more of a forced entry situation. And, we discuss Prime Minister Anthony Albanese's announcement, that Australia has cut diplomatic ties with Iran over the antisemitic attacks in Sydney and Melbourne. Amelia unpacks exactly what this all means. Plus, Kim Kardashian's daughter North West is 12. She wore an outfit. The internet lost its mind. We’ve got some thoughts, and they’re not for the pearl clutchers. Support independent women's media What To Listen To Next: Listen to our latest episode: Remember The Singles Conversation? Jessie Has An Apology Listen: People Are Being Weird About The Serena Williams Weight Loss Ad Listen: A Tiny Violin For A Well-Endowed Man Listen: The Third Wheel That's Ruining My Relationship Listen: How Was This Ever Broadcast On TV? Listen: And Just Like That... It's Over Listen: The Romance Effect: Why We're All Obsessed With Love Stories Listen: The Dating Experience Women Keep Having Listen: Taylor Swift & Why Her Boyfriend's Podcast Connect your subscription to Apple Podcasts Watch Mamamia Out Loud: Mamamia Out Loud on YouTube What to read: 'I'd never cared about Taylor Swift's love life. One moment just changed my mind.' All the hidden meanings in Taylor Swift's engagement announcement you might've missed. The clues that prove Blake and Taylor's friendship fallout is worse than we thought. Kim Kardashian tried to stop the most sickening thing Kanye West has done so far. North West, Kim Kardashian and the brutal reality of having famous parents. THE END BITS: Check out our merch at MamamiaOutLoud.com Mamamia studios are styled with furniture from Fenton and Fenton GET IN TOUCH: Feedback? We’re listening. Send us an email at outloud@mamamia.com.au Share your story, feedback, or dilemma! Send us a voice message. Join our Facebook group Mamamia Outlouders to talk about the show. Follow us on Instagram @mamamiaoutloud and on Tiktok @mamamiaoutloud Mamamia acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the Land we have recorded this podcast on, the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation. We pay our respects to their Elders past and present, and extend that respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures. Become a Mamamia subscriber: https://www.mamamia.com.au/subscribeSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

That is an option...will you take it?

Buzz Rothfield joins Brent Read and Charlie White to look at the latest charges regarding Souths hooker Brandon Smith. The Panthers are set to rest a large chunk of their stay players and Buzz & Ready clash heads over the matter. Brent Read is not a fan of the Tigers playing at Leichhardt and Buzz thinks he is off his head. Plus, the journos answer the tough questions - is Stephen Crichton the most protected player in the NRL? How will the Roosters no tolerance to cocaine rule play out? And will the Titans be able to build a solid organisation with their new appointments for 2026?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Buzz Rothfield joins Brent Read and Charlie White to look at the latest charges regarding Souths hooker Brandon Smith. The Panthers are set to rest a large chunk of their stay players and Buzz & Ready clash heads over the matter. Brent Read is not a fan of the Tigers playing at Leichhardt and Buzz thinks he is off his head. Plus, the journos answer the tough questions - is Stephen Crichton the most protected player in the NRL? How will the Roosters no tolerance to cocaine rule play out? And will the Titans be able to build a solid organisation with their new appointments for 2026?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Rocket Money - Cancel your unwanted subscriptions and reach your financial goals faster with Rocket Money. Go to rocketmoney.com/RANDOMORDER today.Factor Form -Start your day right with Daily Greens by Factor Form at factor75.com/RANDOMORDER to get 40% off plus FREE shipping on your first order.-----WHAT CITY SHOULD WE BRING THE RO SHOW TO? Tinyurl.com/ROinRealLife

Have You Ever Won Anything? | How 'Bout A Bath Towel Exchange Group? | Ordering Anvils On Amazon | Did You Know People Love Knowing Pets? | If You Could Fight Anyone & Take Their Money, Who Would It Be? | How You Feel About Bad Haircuts? | Timing Pee

Text us your questions or comments!You want to lead? Serve. You want to be great? Get low. Humility isn't for the weak—it's for the dangerous. This episode hits where pride lives and teaches you how to kill it with action. If you can't kneel, you can't lead.Serving isn't soft—it's savage. Humility isn't weakness—it's war on your pride. If you can't kneel, you can't lead.Check out, Confined space coffee: use promo code DANGEROUSBREW10 for 10% off your first order.ORDER HERE: https://www.confinedspacecoffee.com/QOTD: “Only the strong can stoop low and stay there.” – AnonymousSOTD: Philippians 2:3-4 (ESV)"Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others."Tactical Action Steps1. Do invisible things:Do one invisible act of service today—no recognition, no credit.2. Hold your tongue:Let someone else speak. Don't insert your opinion. Just honor.3. Kill Pride at the Root:Ask this dangerous question: “How can I serve you better?” and Then actually do it.Dangerous Focus for the Week:Carry the towel. Every day this week, serve one person in a way that costs you something. Time, pride, attention. If it's easy, it doesn't count.Support the show TDMP SITE: https://dangerousmanpodcast.com/ Grab some DANGEROUS GEAR in our shop https://dangerousmanpodcast.com/shop/ Support the show for as little as $3 a month https://www.buzzsprout.com/2080275/supporters/new Follow us on X for more shenanigans https://twitter.com/TDMPodcast603 Follow us on Instagram for extra shenanigans https://www.instagram.com/thedangerousmanpodcast/ Connect with Matt Fortin & Rory Lawrence Email us at: thedangerousmanpodcast@gmail.com Remember men... Stop trying & start training! Top Men's Podcast for 2024... https://podcasts.feedspot.com/mens_podcasts/

From microfiber to terry to huck, towel choice matters more than you think. In this Professional Carwashing & Detailing Executive Spotlight, ERC's Valerie Sweeney explains how the right towels improve results, the best practices for care and organization, and how ERC's expanded product line helps carwash operators run more efficiently.

Elise meets a listener in the wild, and Doree's clean couch hates to see her dog coming! Plus, listeners turn out en masse with dish towel (and/or kitchen rag) recs and we wrap up with some listener microjoys. To leave a voicemail or text for a future episode, reach Doree & Elise at 781-591-0390. You can also email the podcast at forever35podcast@gmail.com.Visit forever35podcast.com for links to everything they mention on the show or visit shopmyshelf.us/forever35.Follow the podcast on Instagram (@Forever35Podcast) and sign up for the newsletter at forever35podcast.com/newsletter. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Dr. Don and Professor Ben talk about the risks from using a towel with a “big brown streak”. Dr. Don - not risky

Send us a textBrand new towels? Yep. Version 2 towels of your favorites (like the Drying Blanket and the Interior Cleaning Towel)? You got it. This podcast outlines what is new, and what is improved -- and why you'd want certain towels over others. Enjoy!Find our towels here: https://diydetail.com/collections/towels-wash-mittsWebsite: https://diydetail.com/Podcast:https://bit.ly/DIYDetailPodcastJoin the DIY Detail Facebook Group!: https://bit.ly/DIYDetailFacebookGroupFind DIY Detail products worldwide: https://diydetail.com/pages/distributors#autodetailing  #diydetail #yvanlacroix #carwash #claytowel #detailing #detalingtip #howtodetailacar #detailing101

'The' Towel, 'Hang on Sloopy' change among Ohio State's new gameday 'enhancements' full 712 Wed, 06 Aug 2025 10:40:13 +0000 XpGynhgBSQbkqVKhuEokTbFOgNGjrcLs college football,ohio state buckeyes,sports The Ken Carman Show with Anthony Lima college football,ohio state buckeyes,sports 'The' Towel, 'Hang on Sloopy' change among Ohio State's new gameday 'enhancements' The only place to talk about the Cleveland sports scene is with Ken Carman and Anthony Lima. The two guide listeners through the ups and downs of being a fan of the Browns, Cavaliers, Guardians and Ohio State Buckeyes in Northeast Ohio. They'll help you stay informed with breaking news, game coverage, and interviews with top personalities.Catch The Ken Carman Show with Anthony Lima live Monday through Friday (6 a.m. - 10 a.m ET) on 92.3 The Fan, the exclusive audio home of the Browns, or on the Audacy app. For more, follow the show on X @KenCarmanShow. 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. Sports False https://pl

Luke, Andrew and Jon wistfully wrap-up their time in Friendship, Wisconsin with the final show of this year's TBTL-a-Thon. They hear from Tens of listeners calling into the show and read an award-winning poem about friendship and Minecraft by a 7-year-old in Norfolk.  Click here to donate and participate in this year's TBTL-a-Thon!