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A fierce chieftaincy feud is unraveling in the Kwahu Traditional Area. Obo Gyaasehene and Kwahuhene Kyeame clash over Kwahu queen mother's kidnapping allegations.This clash is layered: at its heart lies not just personal animosity, but deep questions of legitimacy, loyalty, and authority in the Kwahu stool.

Read OnlineAs Jesus approached Jericho a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging, and hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what was happening. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” He shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” The people walking in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent, but he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me!” Luke 18:35–39This beautiful story of the healing of this blind man, named Bartimaeus in the Gospel of Luke, sets for us a model of how we must come to Jesus in prayer. Bartimaeus and his encounter with Christ is an icon upon which we must meditate so as to imitate him in his weakness, openness, confidence and perseverance.To begin, this “blind man was sitting by the roadside begging.” We must see this as an ideal image of how to begin our prayer. When we start to pray, we must see our littleness, weakness and extreme poverty in our spiritual life. We come to God with nothing. Unable to see. A beggar. And one who is incapable of meeting our own spiritual needs. This is Bartimaeus, and this must be the way we come to our Lord in prayer. Sometimes we can fall into the illusion that our prayers are so elevated and pious that God must be very impressed. If that's your struggle, then you are more like the Pharisees. This blind man, however, is the ideal to aim for. So when you begin your prayer, come to our Lord as a spiritually poor and needy beggar.In this state of humility, just as it happened in this Gospel story, you can be certain that “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” So as you sit in your humble and needy state, wait and be attentive to Jesus passing by. Wait upon His gentle voice, His quiet inspiration, His calming and unmistakable presence. If you can humble yourself this way and then sense our Lord's divine presence touching you in some way, then further imitate Bartimaeus by calling out interiorly, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” The cry from the depths of your heart in prayer must come as a result of Jesus “passing by.” It must be a response to Him coming to you on His own. As Jesus passes by, spiritually speaking, He waits for you to call to Him. He desires that you call to Him. And He desires that you do it with firm confidence and perseverance.Notice that as this blind beggar cried out, there were obstacles put in his way. The people “rebuked him, telling him to be silent.” But even this was a gift, because it enabled Bartimaeus to cry out all the more. So also with us, when obstacles arise in our prayer, such as distractions, temptations, a lack of consolation, or any other challenge to our prayer, we must see these obstacles as hurdles that must be overcome. Doing so will deepen our union with Jesus, turning that apparent obstacle into a source of blessing. Reflect, today, upon these four aspects of a deep prayer life that are presented to us through the witness of this blind beggar. First, ponder your weakness and poverty as you turn to God in prayer. Second, be attentive to the presence of God as He passes by, waiting for you to call to Him. Third, cry out to Him and beg Him to come closer. And fourth, work to overcome every obstacle to prayer and see those obstacles as opportunities to call out to God all the more. My compassionate Lord, I come to You in my weakness and poverty, I come in need of Your divine touch and healing. As You do pass by, I acknowledge Your presence and call to You. Jesus, please do come to me, have pity on me. Help me to overcome every obstacle to Your love and to trust in You always, never wavering from my commitment to You. Jesus, I trust in You.  Image: Workshop of Fernando Gallego, Public domain, via Wikimedia CommonsSource of content: catholic-daily-reflections.comCopyright © 2025 My Catholic Life! Inc. All rights reserved. Used with permission via RSS feed.

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

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

Top 3 Stories of the Day: BYU Basketball's Kennard Davis Jr. Arrested for DUI, Jazz unable to hang with Atlanta, Big weekend ahead for the Utes & Cougars. 

Tit for Tat: Part 1. Three couples head off for a wild weekend together. Based on a post by Many Feathers. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. It was the second year that the six of us had come up here to spend a long weekend together. Jeff and his wife Becky, Bucksy Becky, a tall very buxom brunette. Then there s Pete, and "Repeat", as we called her, Susan; because she looked more like his sister than his wife, each of them with dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and short in stature at not even five and a half feet, though again Susan too had fairly large tits. Though not as large as my wife's were, more noticeable because of her short size perhaps, almost looking top heavy. And then there was my wife Darlene and myself. Personally, I thought my fiery little redhead was the most attractive of the lot, though again; most likely, I was just prejudiced in that regard. But the thing I loved so much about Darlene was her total lack of inhibitions, and carefree attitude about life and love. That; and her almost too daring nature, especially when it came to matters of sexual persuasion. But once again; it was just another aspect about her personality that kept life extremely interesting, especially for me. David, dear; You know what day tomorrow is? Darlene said, as we turned off the highway to go down a gravel township road and the old family hunting cabin. Uh, Saturday? I stated. True, but more significantly, it s national nude day! Darlene winked. I m serving notice that I fully intend to hike nude, tomorrow. Please plan on joining my observance. You know it ll be worth your effort. But we have guests. Darlene? Leave that to me. She dismissed my objections. When the time comes for a hike, I plan to have the issue resolved. Probably a lot sooner. The old cabin we were staying in had been in the family for years, an old hunting cabin. It had a well with a hand pump. I d installed some solar panels for small appliances, radios, phone charging, and a few LED lights. The old icebox had big ice blocks, which we kept operational while away, so that perishable foods could last a weekend, even in cloudy conditions. But we heated the cabin with the big fireplace. It was northern Minnesota, so even summer nights got chilly. The cabin s purpose and intent had never been one of luxury or spaciousness, even though for an old cabin like it was, even then it was still pretty big. Inside, it was basically just one gigantic room. A fairly large fireplace filled one wall, an open area in front of it. Four Plywood double bunks accommodated air mattresses. Plenty large enough to sleep the three couples comfortably together, Two bunks on each side of the big stone fireplace. There was seriously no real privacy, though; which had limited everyone's libedos to some extent, as we'd all been forced to put up with the lack of sexual activities, the last time we'd been up here together. Though Darlene and I had snuck off once or twice, to fool around out in the forest, as we were pretty sure the rest of them had done as well, a time or two. There was a small kitchen area and a table just large enough to seat the six of us together, where we very often played cards late into the evening. Lighting was all by lantern or candlelight. We did most of the cooking outside on the porch, utilizing the barbeques or Dutch ovens we'd brought along with us. It was, needless to say, rustic in every aspect. But the scenery, serenity and quietness of the mountain area where the cabin was, made the trip up here well worth it. We'd already finished up with dinner, gotten a nice warm fire going as even the nights during the summer time could get pretty cool in the mountains. Darlene had already made up a batch of Margaritas for us to sit down and enjoy together which was usually the case. Later on cards perhaps; again, as usual. We'd already managed to kill off one pitcher of margaritas as Darlene began making another when Bucksy Becky asked me a question. "So David; how many years now has it been that the three of you've been coming up here anyway?" Jeff, Pete and I had been friends for years, growing up as kids in the same old neighborhood in fact. Years later, old enough to hunt, we'd started out coming up here with dad, and then later just by ourselves. When the idea and concept of hunting didn't appeal to any of us any more, we'd continued our yearly excursions up here even then for several years. Up until we'd all started getting married. And then hadn't done so for several years. Now; here we were again, just like in the old days; but now with our respective wives in tow. As we started in on the second pitcher of margaritas, and with everyone starting to feel their oats at this point, it wasn't too unexpected when Darlene brought up a rather embarrassing question. "So tell me honey; if you and your friends no longer came up here to go hunting, what did you do? Sit around and jerk off?" Unknowingly, she had hit the nail on the head so to speak. Early on when we'd been young, much younger, we'd actually done just that. And by the look in each one of our respective faces when she mentioned that, she knew; as did the other wives, she had inadvertently stumbled onto something. "You did didn't you! The three of you; sitting around, watching one another jerk yourselves off! Oh my god!" She laughed, as did the other wives, all teasing and jabbing at us now with their personal questions. In an effort to deflect part of that perhaps, though it was already too late to sit here and deny any of it, Pete did remember something and then curiously scrambled over to check out our old stash, wondering if it was still even there. Something I myself had completely forgotten about at this point. "You think your dad ever discovered our stash of Playboys?" he asked. I laughed, curious now myself. "I don't know; check it out, see if they're actually still there!" Long ago, we had in fact stashed a collection of old dog-earned Playboys, and then later, one or two really pornographic magazines up in the rafters. A portion of the ceiling area had been given a false shelf of sorts where dad sometimes stored things. It was there we had put up yet another false front in front of that, tacked down so we could still get at it easily enough, but where we had long ago placed our "Jerk off" material as we'd called it. Using the bench seat to stand on from the table, Pete easily pulled himself up into that old section. "Careful Pete! I don't want you hurting yourself up there," Susan warned. "I can just see us having to rush you to the hospital from falling and breaking your neck; or worse." "Yeah, like his hard cock if he actually finds those porn mags," Jeff quipped. Even I laughed at that; it had been Pete who'd been the first one brave enough between the three of us to actually whip his out and start whacking it off the first time we discovered what had then been dad's collection of magazines. We'd simply added to it after that with the far more dirty, filthy porn magazines we'd brought along. "Very funny," we heard Pete calling down as he rummaged around in the old creaky loft area looking for the false boards we'd nailed over one section of the ceiling. "Ah; found it!" he called out seconds later, and then using his knife to pry that section away, laughed out loud. "Oh my god! They're still up here!" "Bring them down; I want to see what the three of you used to look at when you jerked off," my wife said calling up to him. "And probably still do," she then said turning to the other girls, likewise making them laugh. Almost gingerly he handed four well-worn magazines down to my wife, lowering himself down seconds afterwards. By the time he had, Darlene had already taken them over to the table spreading them all out for us to look at. "This one might actually be worth some money," Bucksy Becky said thumbing through the really old Playboy. "I doubt it," I told her. The covers really torn for one thing, and I happened to remember, we; ah; well, the three of us sort of destroyed the centerfold as I recall, and ended up burning it." "Why'd you do that?" Susan asked curiously. "Was she ugly or something?" Darlene burst out laughing. "Oh honey; I doubt that. Remember now, they sort of admitted to sitting around jerking off looking at these, try and picture it unless I miss my guess; the three of them standing there mostly likely squirting their white sticky stuff all over the centerfold. Back then; boys did that when they didn't have anyone else to squirt it on," she continued chuckling. Though once again, my wife had nailed that one too. I could still clearly remember the day we had done that, and by the embarrassed looks on Jeff and Pete's faces, they could too. "I believe you're right Darlene, look at this one, some of the pages are actually stuck together!" Bucksy Becky exclaimed letting out a squeal of feigned disgust as she held it up trying to shake the pages apart. "God, how much cum did you guys squirt on this one anyway?" She continued to laugh poking fun at her husband Big Jeff, as well as Pete and myself. "A lot," I openly admitted. That was the first illegal X-rated porn magazine any of us had ever seen before. Needless to say, it became the primary one we used to look at, while jerking off to. First time any of us had actually seen anything where the men and women were really doing it. Where you could actually see that they were."     "Wow, no shit! Look at this one!" Bucksy Becky suddenly exclaimed, showing everyone the other X-rated magazine she held in her hand. One of the larger old black and white photos actually showed a guy standing there in the throes of climax. The camera had caught the precise moment he'd shot a ribbon of semen. It showed a long lengthy rope of it shooting off into the air, the look of orgasmic joy etched in his face, caught forever in time. "That's fucking hot!" She then added surprising everyone. And almost as one, we all turned looking at Jeff, his face beet red, though grinning. "Yeah, she likes it when I do that; like's ah; well you know, seeing me squirt." "Ditto that!" My wife said joining in. I Love seeing guys squirt, something very sexy; very provocative about seeing that." I had no idea where any of this was going of course, but I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. Not because of what was being said, but because I was actually getting horny standing here listening to it. "You know; maybe we should change the subject and play a game or something?" I suggested. Once again, my wife knowing full well of my sudden discomfort pounced on it. "Why is that honey? Getting a little too horny are we?" I just smile at her and nodded my head. No sense trying to hide the fact that I was, or that the air suddenly seemed a little sexually charged. "Yeah, maybe we should play a game," Darlene said turning towards the other two girls. She then walked over towards them, drawing them off to one side, whispering. "Ah oh; I said looking at my friends. "Something tells me, we're not in Kansas anymore." That too had been a running joke amongst the three of us. Having grown up in Kansas City, whenever we embarked on some adventure, or did something we were very likely to regret later, we had a tendency to say that. When I saw Susan suddenly look over towards where the three of us were standing, and actually blushing a bit; though nodding her head yes to whatever, I knew then; we were in trouble. If my wife could convince shy little Susan to go along with whatever she had in mind, then that didn't bode well for the three of us. They soon parted, coming back towards us, evil wicked smiles on each of their faces. "Okay; what?" I simply had to ask. "I know that look Darlene; what are you up to now?" "Like you suggested, a little game, something to pass the time, make things sort of interesting, for all of us." "What; kind; of; a; game?" I said slowly, worriedly. Like I said, I knew my own wife. "Let's call it; tit, for tat." "Tit for what?" Pete asked. "Boob's for cocks then," if you prefer. "Tits for tat; or rather that; them," she said pointing at our lower extremities. "You're kidding right?" Jeff asked anxiously; though more hopefully perhaps as his voice had gone up an octave upon asking that. "Girls?" Darlene said turning towards them. "Let's show them that we're serious here," and with that, all three suddenly reached down pulling off the tee shirts they were wearing. Now true; they all had bra's on. No worse than the bikinis we'd all seen them wearing before; but there was something about bras in general, especially when they were actually threatening, or rather promising; to show you more. "You're; you're serious!" I exclaimed realizing that my wife was anyway, though I still wasn't sure about the other two. "Very," she challenged back. "And as a sign of good-faith here," she now stood reaching behind her back, undoing the clasp on her bra, which I did think surprised Susan a little when she did that. She allowed it to fall away from her shoulders, though still managing to catch it against herself, not quite revealing her magnificent tits. "Well? Jeff? Pete? You don't count David; you've already seen my tits. But if they want to, then one of them at least, has to show us some cock here." "Oh for heaven's sake's Jeff, do it; pull your pants down," his wife challenged him. "You know how much of an exhibitionist you truly are; so now's your chance. Especially if you really want to see Darlene's tits, like you're always telling me about how much you'd like to," she said startling everyone including Darlene, who now smiled looking directly at him. "Well? Tit for tat. Last chance; now or never!" She said staring at him directly. And then Jeff began unbuckling his pants, though turning towards the two of us. "Don't look at me!" He exclaimed. "This might be a once in a life-time opportunity here, and if you guys think I'm going to pass this up; you're crazy!" Good old Jeff. He always could be counted on to be the first amongst us to do something like this, but in doing so; he also knew, the two of us would soon follow. Before I knew it, both Pete and I were now undoing our pants. All three of us at the point of dropping trow, though now it was up to the other two girls to get to the same point my wife was; tits free. To my surprise, both Susan and Bucksy Becky had reached back around themselves, likewise undoing their bras, though like my wife, still holding them firmly against their chests even after they had. "On the count of three then? We all show? One? Two? Three!" Pete, Jeff and I all dropped our pants, though funny enough; Jeff was the only one with a full blown erection. I was partially so, with Pete not even close. But then again, he'd also been the one most nervous around us, even after we'd gotten comfortable jerking ourselves off in front of one another years ago. Pete had without a doubt, the biggest cock I'd yet seen, and that included a few porn movies to boot. It didn't stay that way long however, nor did mine. Not with the three of us standing there looking at three gorgeous pairs of tits. And the night was just getting started. "Now then, that wasn't so bad was it?" My wife asked the three of us. And though they both stood there smiling, (Jeff and his hard cock) I knew that there was more to this than what was meeting the eye here. I could almost see it coming. "Now then; how about we move onto the next; tit for tat, especially seeing that good old Jeff appears to be more than ready for it." "Next; tit for; tat?" Pete asked worriedly. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. "Yeah, let's see if you guys can do as well as this picture of the guy here shooting his load," Bucksy Becky said speaking up. "You are joking right?" Pete said incredulously. "You really don't expect me to; to stand here and actually jerk myself off in front of you now do you? Really?" And now it was my turn to look incredulous as Darlene began undoing the shorts she had on, dropping them down around her ankles seconds later. "Well certainly not without a little additional incentive at least. Like I said; tit for tat. So; here's your next, well; not tit, but how's a bare-naked pussy sound? Willing to do it then?" Up until now I figured this was a little silly alcohol talking, and the girls just trying to yank our chains. My wife had upped the ante so to speak in seeing if any of us; including me, were that willing to take it to that extreme. Even Pete s little wife, Susan looked a bit skeptical at this point, her hands actually coming up to criss-cross over her tits as she stood there looking on; wondering. Jeff looked at his Bucksy Becky, but all she did was snicker, commenting to my wife in a half whisper. "He wants to So bad; look how hard his cock is, problem is; the other two. They're acting shy." "Men!" Darlene laughed snickering in agreement. "Hard to get them to do anything their uncomfortable doing; or don't want to do, let alone getting them hard. Well; Pete and David, anyway. Guess that might take a bit more coaxing then," my wife said turning towards her friend, and then kissed her. Full, on the mouth, for one thing, but for another, her hand came up cupping Becky's tit. Even that startled her for a moment, it had been so unexpected, but seconds later realizing the intent behind it more than anything else, she began playing along. Either that, or she was admittedly becoming aroused by it. And again, even Pete s little wife, Susan looked on in amused, though semi-shocked wonder as the two of them stood there kissing and fondling one another's tits. "Fuck you two! I'm doing this!" Jeff exclaimed and began pumping his cock watching the two of them. "Not so fast!" Darlene turned stopping him. "That's a taste; you want to see more pussy? All of us?" She added looking at Pete s little wife, Susan, letting her know in no uncertain terms she'd signed up for this earlier. "Then; it's all of you; or nothing. We can always get dressed again and start playing cards if you'd actually prefer." Jeff looked at Pete and I almost imploringly so. I almost laughed, his look reminding me of those days so long ago now when the three of us actually stood there together, jerking off. In particular that day we decided to spunk up the Playboy centerfold, standing there side by side squirting all over it together. "Not like we haven't done it before," I reminded them both; though it was obviously Pete now that needed convincing. "Shit man," he exclaimed. "We were horny kids then." "So? Now we're horny grown men? What's the difference?" Bucksy Becky took off her shorts, and then her panties, now standing beside my wife, the two of them still toying with one another's tits a little. "Like I said Pete; look at them, tell me you wouldn't mind jerking off to the likes of that as opposed to an old Playboy centerfold. Especially when two of them are standing there touching one another," I challenged him.     "Well?" Darlene asked first looking at Pete, and then at his wife, Susan. Susan sighed, and then to everyone's surprise, began removing the rest of her clothing. "Oh hell, why not? Hell of a lot better than playing cards," she giggled nervously. Finally Pete shook his head and relented. "Can't believe I'm actually doing this," he told everyone. And now we all stood in front of one another. Naked as they day we were born. I'll be the first one to admit, in the beginning it felt a little weird, a little strange. And though we had done it; and often in fact, years ago now, that was then. This was indeed now. And yet, surprisingly, after only a few minutes, and some additional coaxing and prompting, the three of us soon stood there jacking ourselves off in front of the girls. Though again, not without some real additional incentive for us to be doing so. They were too now. Tit for tat so to speak. I for one have always enjoyed seeing my own wife pleasure herself for me, something she has very often done without hesitation like I said in the beginning. And I of course have done the same for her as well, something she early on told me she loved seeing guys do; seeing me do. So I did. The only real difference I guess between that and this; was having a bit more of an audience, it was hard not to look over, see what both Pete and Jeff were doing, and likewise looking at the girls; all three of them. Pete s little wife, Susan was indeed an interesting character. At first shy, overly so; I'd heard through conversations with Pete in the past how she was in fact a real tiger in bed. Once heated, an almost anything goes kind of a woman. She was proving that out now; in spades. Having shucked off whatever final reservations or initial inhibitions she might have had, those had all fallen by the wayside now. Lying on the floor, all three of them side by side, looking up at the three of us as we stood over them jerking off was erotically intense. Perhaps even more so than any of us had realized it would be in the beginning. "Fuck I am already close; too fucking close!" Jeff announced almost dejectedly. "Nobody said you couldn't enjoy seconds; if you can manage it you know," Darlene assured him. "So whenever anyone's ready; just do it, you; or us," she stated the look in her eyes telling me she actually wasn't that far away from climaxing herself. And that of course, sent a tingling thrill down my shaft, jumping my own arousal up a notch. Unable to hold out any more, Jeff just looked down, his voice shaking. "Where? How?" He almost stammered gritting his teeth. "Where ever you want; Darlene said looking up at him, one hand cupping her own tit, the other busily working her clit, strumming it wildly at this point, another hint at her rapidly nearing climax. "Fuck!" Jeff cried out, his head snapping back, knees buckling just a little as he momentarily quit pumping his cock, just holding onto it for a moment more. And then; he unleashed. "Oh yeah! Fuck yeah; would you look at that?" Pete s little wife, Susan exclaimed, wild-eyed and lustier looking than I'd ever seen her before. Pete hadn't been lying when he'd told me about her before. Once his Susan was horny; truly horny, she became almost a completely different person. "Shoot that spunk! Shoot it! Squirt it! All over! All over! All over!" She lay crying out as Big Jeff did his level best to accommodate each one of the girls. Once again jacking his cock, pumping out streamer after streamer of his hot white juice which had begun landing over all three girls like he'd turned the hose on them. And that of course triggered my wife's climax, which I was fairly certain it would do. But it would also be only the first of many for her, as from this point on; she could easily roll from one right into another, almost at will after this. And one thing more that I knew; which the guys soon would of course, was how much Darlene tended to squirt whenever she did. Eyes wide in surprise, both Jeff and Pete stood there watching this tiny little fountainous squirt suddenly erupt from my wife's pussy. A tiny little arch of pussy pleasure shooting up in the air, splashing down again, soaking her, as well as the floor beneath her. Thankfully, we'd moved the sleeping bags out of the way, or we'd have been sleeping wet that evening. Inwardly I was certainly grinning. As much of a surprise as it had been for all of us; girls included, to see my wife lying there with her pussy squirting the way it did, I remembered back at something else. Pete had a surprise of his own too. He had a big cock, that much was evident, at least on the upper size scale of big cocks. Neither Jeff nor I were slouches in that department either, not by a long shot. Jeff might have been short in height, but just like his wife, his hard cock tended to look even bigger than it probably was just because of that. Pete on the other hand, was just fucking big; no, make that huge. And so was his cumshot as I remembered seeing it. Unless things had changed since then of course. But as I recalled, his semen tended to be quite copious in volume, easily duplicating mine and Jeff's put together. Something we had as young men growing up, gotten a weird kick out of when the three of us stood there blanketing that centerfold until it wasn't even recognizable as being one anymore. Half of which; had been Pete's doing. "Fuck, I'm gonna lose it!" Pete soon after announced. I couldn't help but turn and look, I'd been amazed in the past before. And I noticed in doing so; Jeff too had turned to specifically watch. After all; we both had a pretty good idea, as must have his Susan. She was the only one who actually closed her eyes, covering them with her hands, giggling as she did. "Thar she blows!" She said peeking through her fingers just as the first jettison of Pete's spunk exploded from the head of his cock. My Darlene and Buxom Becky had no idea. Had they, they might have been quicker on the hands to the face trick that Pete s little wife, Susan had already prepared herself for. Even for a guy; it was an amazing thing to see, to witness. I for one had never seen anything like it, not before or since. The only other man I'd seen even come close had been the Porn star Peter North. But even he would have been hard pressed to match Pete's delivery, even on a good day. Hard to explain it really, to describe it. It was like throwing cups full of milk. That's about the only way I can even attempt to put into words what it looked like. That first splash, a thick rope, not a slim stringy one, was just that. A rope of cum. Seeing it leap from the head of that fat cock of his was just the beginning of the wild spectacle he created. I saw it land on my wife, next or close to her pussy in fact, and then splash from there as though someone had actually tossed a scarf down onto her body. He hit her left tit from there, up to the side of her neck and into her hair; and then beyond that. Turning, another voluminous milking already on the way, as this one began bathing poor Bucksy Becky, her sudden squeal of delight and shock readily apparent. "Holy fucking shit!" She cried out watching the splash of his cream as it had hit my wife, only then seeing the second skyrocketing explosion leap from his cock, shooting directly at her. She lifted her hands, too late; that second squirt not quite purposely hitting her full on in the face, much of it actually hitting her in the mouth where she swallowed. She actually had no choice, it would have been nearly impossible not to, let alone breathe. And good old Pete, just as Jeff and I remembered, was far from being done. Not wanting to let his own wife feel left out, Pete spun on one heel, still wanking his cock, holding still then a second later as the third massive squirt shot out. Still covering her eyes, though still peeking through her fingers, she laughed as he sure enough; started there. In seconds her hands appeared glued together, a trail of semen working its way down from there between her gorgeous pink nippled tits, down across her belly, and along the side of her upper right thigh. The majority of his first few canon shots might be over, but he continued to pump his cock, which now just oozed like chocolate sauce being poured over ice cream. Only now taking her hands away, Susan opened her mouth as her Pete stood over her, his cream dripping from the head of his cock in what seemed like a never ending drool of cum-sauce which his little wife now tried valiantly to collect. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" My Darlene quipped, now watching this, still trying to collect the liquid sauce running in small little rivers over her own body with her hands as she and Buxom Becky both ly there, eyes still glued to him and his magnificent specimen of a cock. "That's got to be; the most incredible cum shot I've ever seen in my entire life!" I couldn't help but laugh. "See dear? You're not the only one here, full of surprises." Mine wasn't nearly as copious of course as Pete's had been; but as far as cum-shots go, it wasn't half bad. I still managed to add a fair amount almost equally on all three girls. All three girls lying there now covered in joy juice, pretty much from head to toe.       As expected, My Darlene had worked herself through a small series of mini-orgasms, saving the big one for last, which would come later. That's basically how she preferred doing it. Both Buxom Becky and Little Susan had likewise gotten off, and it was again another bit of an unexpected surprise seeing Susan when she did. She tended to thrash wildly, her head rolling back and forth as she cried out, her hand now slapping her pussy, almost fiercely, the other hand, fingers inside working herself that way. That too was an amazing sight to watch. Poor Jeff almost looked disappointed, his cock once again stiff and hard, working himself up to what he obviously hoped would be another nice orgasm of his own. "Time for a break," My Darlene spoke, with both the other girls in agreement. "Fresh drinks, something to snack on; and then; see where things go from there." I was wondering about that myself, just as I knew the other guys were. We'd all been casting looks back and forth between one another, several questions I am sure remaining unasked. As the girls stood inside the small little kitchen area throwing together a few things to snack on, the hushed whispers of their voices alerted us to the fact they were obviously discussing something, occasionally throwing glances our way. "Throw some more wood on the fire, get it nice and warm in here for us," Darlene stated moments later. "We're going outside for a; to pee," she amended. "We'll be back in a few minutes." After fixing up some fresh drinks and snacks, the girls all went outside for a supposed pee-break. When they did, Pete turned to me worriedly asking. "Okay; admittedly, that was sort of fun; well, damn fun actually," he said sheepishly. "But I can't help wondering; I mean, we're not like; ah, you know, thinking about; "Swapping wives?" I said finishing for him. "No Pete, we're not. At least I'm fairly confident that isn't part of what's been going on here; or even will be. Though I'll agree with you on one hand, maybe it's something we should address with the girls once they come back inside again. See where all this is really headed, so that we all know what to expect, or not expect. I don't think any of us want to stumble into doing anything we're not comfortable with." I saw the relief in his eyes, as well as in Big Jeff's, as the three of us stoked up the fire a bit, making it even warmer, especially as we remained ass-naked at the moment. It was amazing to me as we went about doing that, how comfortable we had all seemed to become once again. Seeing one another naked again after all these years. Sure we had all changed and matured a little, during that time, though Pete's schlong continued to swing to and fro as he walked about, causing Jeff and I both to snicker while watching that. Just like old times. "It's taking them a hell of a long time to pee, don't you think?" Jeff asked. "I don't think that's all they're doing," I commented. "Something tells me, they're having a pow-wow out there, which means; I never finished however as the door suddenly opened, all three girls reentering the cabin. "Rules!" My wife said, the moment they came inside. "Rules?" Pete asked. "Yeah; rules. We thought it might be a good idea to go over a few simple rules, so that no one has any misconceptions or expectations regarding the weekend, since it appears we'll be spending much of it naked together." The guys looked at me, and I at them, and then back to the girls again. Obviously they'd been thinking along the same lines as we had. "Just so we're all on the same page here; this isn't about swapping partners. We're just having a bit of naughty fun is all; so beyond some touching perhaps, that's it. Unless we're comfortable doing things with our own partners, in front of anyone, that would be the only exception. Beyond that, it's strictly a touch only. Everyone okay with that?" Obviously the girls had come to a mutual consensus outside, which was fine with the three of us guys, too. Especially as we all readily agreed to that. "By touching; Pete asked a bit nervously, yet excitedly too by the edge we could all hear in his tone of voice. "Does that mean; "That it's okay if I walked up and fondled that sausage of yours?" Jeff s wife, Becky said; walking up in front of Susan s Pete, only inches away, though she didn't actually reach down and do it. "Hopefully; yes, as long as it's ok with you, and your wife," she said looking over towards Susan. Susan then walked over and stood in front of me, grinning. My wife, then standing directly in front of big Jeff, likewise grinning. "If you guys are good with just that; we are," my wife concluded. By the smiles on our faces they could see that we were, and then as though on some prearranged signal perhaps, all three reached down and clasped the three semi-flaccid cocks dangling there in front of them. Even then; I still tentatively reached out cupping Little Susan's firm full tits, taking delight in fondling them a bit, as the rest of the guys now began doing the same to the girls standing in front of them. It didn't take long, and the three of us were once again standing proud and tall. To be continued. Based on a post by Many Feathers, for Literotica.  

Tit for Tat: Part 1. Three couples head off for a wild weekend together. Based on a post by Many Feathers. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. It was the second year that the six of us had come up here to spend a long weekend together. Jeff and his wife Becky, Bucksy Becky, a tall very buxom brunette. Then there s Pete, and "Repeat", as we called her, Susan; because she looked more like his sister than his wife, each of them with dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and short in stature at not even five and a half feet, though again Susan too had fairly large tits. Though not as large as my wife's were, more noticeable because of her short size perhaps, almost looking top heavy. And then there was my wife Darlene and myself. Personally, I thought my fiery little redhead was the most attractive of the lot, though again; most likely, I was just prejudiced in that regard. But the thing I loved so much about Darlene was her total lack of inhibitions, and carefree attitude about life and love. That; and her almost too daring nature, especially when it came to matters of sexual persuasion. But once again; it was just another aspect about her personality that kept life extremely interesting, especially for me. David, dear; You know what day tomorrow is? Darlene said, as we turned off the highway to go down a gravel township road and the old family hunting cabin. Uh, Saturday? I stated. True, but more significantly, it s national nude day! Darlene winked. I m serving notice that I fully intend to hike nude, tomorrow. Please plan on joining my observance. You know it ll be worth your effort. But we have guests. Darlene? Leave that to me. She dismissed my objections. When the time comes for a hike, I plan to have the issue resolved. Probably a lot sooner. The old cabin we were staying in had been in the family for years, an old hunting cabin. It had a well with a hand pump. I d installed some solar panels for small appliances, radios, phone charging, and a few LED lights. The old icebox had big ice blocks, which we kept operational while away, so that perishable foods could last a weekend, even in cloudy conditions. But we heated the cabin with the big fireplace. It was northern Minnesota, so even summer nights got chilly. The cabin s purpose and intent had never been one of luxury or spaciousness, even though for an old cabin like it was, even then it was still pretty big. Inside, it was basically just one gigantic room. A fairly large fireplace filled one wall, an open area in front of it. Four Plywood double bunks accommodated air mattresses. Plenty large enough to sleep the three couples comfortably together, Two bunks on each side of the big stone fireplace. There was seriously no real privacy, though; which had limited everyone's libedos to some extent, as we'd all been forced to put up with the lack of sexual activities, the last time we'd been up here together. Though Darlene and I had snuck off once or twice, to fool around out in the forest, as we were pretty sure the rest of them had done as well, a time or two. There was a small kitchen area and a table just large enough to seat the six of us together, where we very often played cards late into the evening. Lighting was all by lantern or candlelight. We did most of the cooking outside on the porch, utilizing the barbeques or Dutch ovens we'd brought along with us. It was, needless to say, rustic in every aspect. But the scenery, serenity and quietness of the mountain area where the cabin was, made the trip up here well worth it. We'd already finished up with dinner, gotten a nice warm fire going as even the nights during the summer time could get pretty cool in the mountains. Darlene had already made up a batch of Margaritas for us to sit down and enjoy together which was usually the case. Later on cards perhaps; again, as usual. We'd already managed to kill off one pitcher of margaritas as Darlene began making another when Bucksy Becky asked me a question. "So David; how many years now has it been that the three of you've been coming up here anyway?" Jeff, Pete and I had been friends for years, growing up as kids in the same old neighborhood in fact. Years later, old enough to hunt, we'd started out coming up here with dad, and then later just by ourselves. When the idea and concept of hunting didn't appeal to any of us any more, we'd continued our yearly excursions up here even then for several years. Up until we'd all started getting married. And then hadn't done so for several years. Now; here we were again, just like in the old days; but now with our respective wives in tow. As we started in on the second pitcher of margaritas, and with everyone starting to feel their oats at this point, it wasn't too unexpected when Darlene brought up a rather embarrassing question. "So tell me honey; if you and your friends no longer came up here to go hunting, what did you do? Sit around and jerk off?" Unknowingly, she had hit the nail on the head so to speak. Early on when we'd been young, much younger, we'd actually done just that. And by the look in each one of our respective faces when she mentioned that, she knew; as did the other wives, she had inadvertently stumbled onto something. "You did didn't you! The three of you; sitting around, watching one another jerk yourselves off! Oh my god!" She laughed, as did the other wives, all teasing and jabbing at us now with their personal questions. In an effort to deflect part of that perhaps, though it was already too late to sit here and deny any of it, Pete did remember something and then curiously scrambled over to check out our old stash, wondering if it was still even there. Something I myself had completely forgotten about at this point. "You think your dad ever discovered our stash of Playboys?" he asked. I laughed, curious now myself. "I don't know; check it out, see if they're actually still there!" Long ago, we had in fact stashed a collection of old dog-earned Playboys, and then later, one or two really pornographic magazines up in the rafters. A portion of the ceiling area had been given a false shelf of sorts where dad sometimes stored things. It was there we had put up yet another false front in front of that, tacked down so we could still get at it easily enough, but where we had long ago placed our "Jerk off" material as we'd called it. Using the bench seat to stand on from the table, Pete easily pulled himself up into that old section. "Careful Pete! I don't want you hurting yourself up there," Susan warned. "I can just see us having to rush you to the hospital from falling and breaking your neck; or worse." "Yeah, like his hard cock if he actually finds those porn mags," Jeff quipped. Even I laughed at that; it had been Pete who'd been the first one brave enough between the three of us to actually whip his out and start whacking it off the first time we discovered what had then been dad's collection of magazines. We'd simply added to it after that with the far more dirty, filthy porn magazines we'd brought along. "Very funny," we heard Pete calling down as he rummaged around in the old creaky loft area looking for the false boards we'd nailed over one section of the ceiling. "Ah; found it!" he called out seconds later, and then using his knife to pry that section away, laughed out loud. "Oh my god! They're still up here!" "Bring them down; I want to see what the three of you used to look at when you jerked off," my wife said calling up to him. "And probably still do," she then said turning to the other girls, likewise making them laugh. Almost gingerly he handed four well-worn magazines down to my wife, lowering himself down seconds afterwards. By the time he had, Darlene had already taken them over to the table spreading them all out for us to look at. "This one might actually be worth some money," Bucksy Becky said thumbing through the really old Playboy. "I doubt it," I told her. The covers really torn for one thing, and I happened to remember, we; ah; well, the three of us sort of destroyed the centerfold as I recall, and ended up burning it." "Why'd you do that?" Susan asked curiously. "Was she ugly or something?" Darlene burst out laughing. "Oh honey; I doubt that. Remember now, they sort of admitted to sitting around jerking off looking at these, try and picture it unless I miss my guess; the three of them standing there mostly likely squirting their white sticky stuff all over the centerfold. Back then; boys did that when they didn't have anyone else to squirt it on," she continued chuckling. Though once again, my wife had nailed that one too. I could still clearly remember the day we had done that, and by the embarrassed looks on Jeff and Pete's faces, they could too. "I believe you're right Darlene, look at this one, some of the pages are actually stuck together!" Bucksy Becky exclaimed letting out a squeal of feigned disgust as she held it up trying to shake the pages apart. "God, how much cum did you guys squirt on this one anyway?" She continued to laugh poking fun at her husband Big Jeff, as well as Pete and myself. "A lot," I openly admitted. That was the first illegal X-rated porn magazine any of us had ever seen before. Needless to say, it became the primary one we used to look at, while jerking off to. First time any of us had actually seen anything where the men and women were really doing it. Where you could actually see that they were."     "Wow, no shit! Look at this one!" Bucksy Becky suddenly exclaimed, showing everyone the other X-rated magazine she held in her hand. One of the larger old black and white photos actually showed a guy standing there in the throes of climax. The camera had caught the precise moment he'd shot a ribbon of semen. It showed a long lengthy rope of it shooting off into the air, the look of orgasmic joy etched in his face, caught forever in time. "That's fucking hot!" She then added surprising everyone. And almost as one, we all turned looking at Jeff, his face beet red, though grinning. "Yeah, she likes it when I do that; like's ah; well you know, seeing me squirt." "Ditto that!" My wife said joining in. I Love seeing guys squirt, something very sexy; very provocative about seeing that." I had no idea where any of this was going of course, but I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. Not because of what was being said, but because I was actually getting horny standing here listening to it. "You know; maybe we should change the subject and play a game or something?" I suggested. Once again, my wife knowing full well of my sudden discomfort pounced on it. "Why is that honey? Getting a little too horny are we?" I just smile at her and nodded my head. No sense trying to hide the fact that I was, or that the air suddenly seemed a little sexually charged. "Yeah, maybe we should play a game," Darlene said turning towards the other two girls. She then walked over towards them, drawing them off to one side, whispering. "Ah oh; I said looking at my friends. "Something tells me, we're not in Kansas anymore." That too had been a running joke amongst the three of us. Having grown up in Kansas City, whenever we embarked on some adventure, or did something we were very likely to regret later, we had a tendency to say that. When I saw Susan suddenly look over towards where the three of us were standing, and actually blushing a bit; though nodding her head yes to whatever, I knew then; we were in trouble. If my wife could convince shy little Susan to go along with whatever she had in mind, then that didn't bode well for the three of us. They soon parted, coming back towards us, evil wicked smiles on each of their faces. "Okay; what?" I simply had to ask. "I know that look Darlene; what are you up to now?" "Like you suggested, a little game, something to pass the time, make things sort of interesting, for all of us." "What; kind; of; a; game?" I said slowly, worriedly. Like I said, I knew my own wife. "Let's call it; tit, for tat." "Tit for what?" Pete asked. "Boob's for cocks then," if you prefer. "Tits for tat; or rather that; them," she said pointing at our lower extremities. "You're kidding right?" Jeff asked anxiously; though more hopefully perhaps as his voice had gone up an octave upon asking that. "Girls?" Darlene said turning towards them. "Let's show them that we're serious here," and with that, all three suddenly reached down pulling off the tee shirts they were wearing. Now true; they all had bra's on. No worse than the bikinis we'd all seen them wearing before; but there was something about bras in general, especially when they were actually threatening, or rather promising; to show you more. "You're; you're serious!" I exclaimed realizing that my wife was anyway, though I still wasn't sure about the other two. "Very," she challenged back. "And as a sign of good-faith here," she now stood reaching behind her back, undoing the clasp on her bra, which I did think surprised Susan a little when she did that. She allowed it to fall away from her shoulders, though still managing to catch it against herself, not quite revealing her magnificent tits. "Well? Jeff? Pete? You don't count David; you've already seen my tits. But if they want to, then one of them at least, has to show us some cock here." "Oh for heaven's sake's Jeff, do it; pull your pants down," his wife challenged him. "You know how much of an exhibitionist you truly are; so now's your chance. Especially if you really want to see Darlene's tits, like you're always telling me about how much you'd like to," she said startling everyone including Darlene, who now smiled looking directly at him. "Well? Tit for tat. Last chance; now or never!" She said staring at him directly. And then Jeff began unbuckling his pants, though turning towards the two of us. "Don't look at me!" He exclaimed. "This might be a once in a life-time opportunity here, and if you guys think I'm going to pass this up; you're crazy!" Good old Jeff. He always could be counted on to be the first amongst us to do something like this, but in doing so; he also knew, the two of us would soon follow. Before I knew it, both Pete and I were now undoing our pants. All three of us at the point of dropping trow, though now it was up to the other two girls to get to the same point my wife was; tits free. To my surprise, both Susan and Bucksy Becky had reached back around themselves, likewise undoing their bras, though like my wife, still holding them firmly against their chests even after they had. "On the count of three then? We all show? One? Two? Three!" Pete, Jeff and I all dropped our pants, though funny enough; Jeff was the only one with a full blown erection. I was partially so, with Pete not even close. But then again, he'd also been the one most nervous around us, even after we'd gotten comfortable jerking ourselves off in front of one another years ago. Pete had without a doubt, the biggest cock I'd yet seen, and that included a few porn movies to boot. It didn't stay that way long however, nor did mine. Not with the three of us standing there looking at three gorgeous pairs of tits. And the night was just getting started. "Now then, that wasn't so bad was it?" My wife asked the three of us. And though they both stood there smiling, (Jeff and his hard cock) I knew that there was more to this than what was meeting the eye here. I could almost see it coming. "Now then; how about we move onto the next; tit for tat, especially seeing that good old Jeff appears to be more than ready for it." "Next; tit for; tat?" Pete asked worriedly. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. "Yeah, let's see if you guys can do as well as this picture of the guy here shooting his load," Bucksy Becky said speaking up. "You are joking right?" Pete said incredulously. "You really don't expect me to; to stand here and actually jerk myself off in front of you now do you? Really?" And now it was my turn to look incredulous as Darlene began undoing the shorts she had on, dropping them down around her ankles seconds later. "Well certainly not without a little additional incentive at least. Like I said; tit for tat. So; here's your next, well; not tit, but how's a bare-naked pussy sound? Willing to do it then?" Up until now I figured this was a little silly alcohol talking, and the girls just trying to yank our chains. My wife had upped the ante so to speak in seeing if any of us; including me, were that willing to take it to that extreme. Even Pete s little wife, Susan looked a bit skeptical at this point, her hands actually coming up to criss-cross over her tits as she stood there looking on; wondering. Jeff looked at his Bucksy Becky, but all she did was snicker, commenting to my wife in a half whisper. "He wants to So bad; look how hard his cock is, problem is; the other two. They're acting shy." "Men!" Darlene laughed snickering in agreement. "Hard to get them to do anything their uncomfortable doing; or don't want to do, let alone getting them hard. Well; Pete and David, anyway. Guess that might take a bit more coaxing then," my wife said turning towards her friend, and then kissed her. Full, on the mouth, for one thing, but for another, her hand came up cupping Becky's tit. Even that startled her for a moment, it had been so unexpected, but seconds later realizing the intent behind it more than anything else, she began playing along. Either that, or she was admittedly becoming aroused by it. And again, even Pete s little wife, Susan looked on in amused, though semi-shocked wonder as the two of them stood there kissing and fondling one another's tits. "Fuck you two! I'm doing this!" Jeff exclaimed and began pumping his cock watching the two of them. "Not so fast!" Darlene turned stopping him. "That's a taste; you want to see more pussy? All of us?" She added looking at Pete s little wife, Susan, letting her know in no uncertain terms she'd signed up for this earlier. "Then; it's all of you; or nothing. We can always get dressed again and start playing cards if you'd actually prefer." Jeff looked at Pete and I almost imploringly so. I almost laughed, his look reminding me of those days so long ago now when the three of us actually stood there together, jerking off. In particular that day we decided to spunk up the Playboy centerfold, standing there side by side squirting all over it together. "Not like we haven't done it before," I reminded them both; though it was obviously Pete now that needed convincing. "Shit man," he exclaimed. "We were horny kids then." "So? Now we're horny grown men? What's the difference?" Bucksy Becky took off her shorts, and then her panties, now standing beside my wife, the two of them still toying with one another's tits a little. "Like I said Pete; look at them, tell me you wouldn't mind jerking off to the likes of that as opposed to an old Playboy centerfold. Especially when two of them are standing there touching one another," I challenged him.     "Well?" Darlene asked first looking at Pete, and then at his wife, Susan. Susan sighed, and then to everyone's surprise, began removing the rest of her clothing. "Oh hell, why not? Hell of a lot better than playing cards," she giggled nervously. Finally Pete shook his head and relented. "Can't believe I'm actually doing this," he told everyone. And now we all stood in front of one another. Naked as they day we were born. I'll be the first one to admit, in the beginning it felt a little weird, a little strange. And though we had done it; and often in fact, years ago now, that was then. This was indeed now. And yet, surprisingly, after only a few minutes, and some additional coaxing and prompting, the three of us soon stood there jacking ourselves off in front of the girls. Though again, not without some real additional incentive for us to be doing so. They were too now. Tit for tat so to speak. I for one have always enjoyed seeing my own wife pleasure herself for me, something she has very often done without hesitation like I said in the beginning. And I of course have done the same for her as well, something she early on told me she loved seeing guys do; seeing me do. So I did. The only real difference I guess between that and this; was having a bit more of an audience, it was hard not to look over, see what both Pete and Jeff were doing, and likewise looking at the girls; all three of them. Pete s little wife, Susan was indeed an interesting character. At first shy, overly so; I'd heard through conversations with Pete in the past how she was in fact a real tiger in bed. Once heated, an almost anything goes kind of a woman. She was proving that out now; in spades. Having shucked off whatever final reservations or initial inhibitions she might have had, those had all fallen by the wayside now. Lying on the floor, all three of them side by side, looking up at the three of us as we stood over them jerking off was erotically intense. Perhaps even more so than any of us had realized it would be in the beginning. "Fuck I am already close; too fucking close!" Jeff announced almost dejectedly. "Nobody said you couldn't enjoy seconds; if you can manage it you know," Darlene assured him. "So whenever anyone's ready; just do it, you; or us," she stated the look in her eyes telling me she actually wasn't that far away from climaxing herself. And that of course, sent a tingling thrill down my shaft, jumping my own arousal up a notch. Unable to hold out any more, Jeff just looked down, his voice shaking. "Where? How?" He almost stammered gritting his teeth. "Where ever you want; Darlene said looking up at him, one hand cupping her own tit, the other busily working her clit, strumming it wildly at this point, another hint at her rapidly nearing climax. "Fuck!" Jeff cried out, his head snapping back, knees buckling just a little as he momentarily quit pumping his cock, just holding onto it for a moment more. And then; he unleashed. "Oh yeah! Fuck yeah; would you look at that?" Pete s little wife, Susan exclaimed, wild-eyed and lustier looking than I'd ever seen her before. Pete hadn't been lying when he'd told me about her before. Once his Susan was horny; truly horny, she became almost a completely different person. "Shoot that spunk! Shoot it! Squirt it! All over! All over! All over!" She lay crying out as Big Jeff did his level best to accommodate each one of the girls. Once again jacking his cock, pumping out streamer after streamer of his hot white juice which had begun landing over all three girls like he'd turned the hose on them. And that of course triggered my wife's climax, which I was fairly certain it would do. But it would also be only the first of many for her, as from this point on; she could easily roll from one right into another, almost at will after this. And one thing more that I knew; which the guys soon would of course, was how much Darlene tended to squirt whenever she did. Eyes wide in surprise, both Jeff and Pete stood there watching this tiny little fountainous squirt suddenly erupt from my wife's pussy. A tiny little arch of pussy pleasure shooting up in the air, splashing down again, soaking her, as well as the floor beneath her. Thankfully, we'd moved the sleeping bags out of the way, or we'd have been sleeping wet that evening. Inwardly I was certainly grinning. As much of a surprise as it had been for all of us; girls included, to see my wife lying there with her pussy squirting the way it did, I remembered back at something else. Pete had a surprise of his own too. He had a big cock, that much was evident, at least on the upper size scale of big cocks. Neither Jeff nor I were slouches in that department either, not by a long shot. Jeff might have been short in height, but just like his wife, his hard cock tended to look even bigger than it probably was just because of that. Pete on the other hand, was just fucking big; no, make that huge. And so was his cumshot as I remembered seeing it. Unless things had changed since then of course. But as I recalled, his semen tended to be quite copious in volume, easily duplicating mine and Jeff's put together. Something we had as young men growing up, gotten a weird kick out of when the three of us stood there blanketing that centerfold until it wasn't even recognizable as being one anymore. Half of which; had been Pete's doing. "Fuck, I'm gonna lose it!" Pete soon after announced. I couldn't help but turn and look, I'd been amazed in the past before. And I noticed in doing so; Jeff too had turned to specifically watch. After all; we both had a pretty good idea, as must have his Susan. She was the only one who actually closed her eyes, covering them with her hands, giggling as she did. "Thar she blows!" She said peeking through her fingers just as the first jettison of Pete's spunk exploded from the head of his cock. My Darlene and Buxom Becky had no idea. Had they, they might have been quicker on the hands to the face trick that Pete s little wife, Susan had already prepared herself for. Even for a guy; it was an amazing thing to see, to witness. I for one had never seen anything like it, not before or since. The only other man I'd seen even come close had been the Porn star Peter North. But even he would have been hard pressed to match Pete's delivery, even on a good day. Hard to explain it really, to describe it. It was like throwing cups full of milk. That's about the only way I can even attempt to put into words what it looked like. That first splash, a thick rope, not a slim stringy one, was just that. A rope of cum. Seeing it leap from the head of that fat cock of his was just the beginning of the wild spectacle he created. I saw it land on my wife, next or close to her pussy in fact, and then splash from there as though someone had actually tossed a scarf down onto her body. He hit her left tit from there, up to the side of her neck and into her hair; and then beyond that. Turning, another voluminous milking already on the way, as this one began bathing poor Bucksy Becky, her sudden squeal of delight and shock readily apparent. "Holy fucking shit!" She cried out watching the splash of his cream as it had hit my wife, only then seeing the second skyrocketing explosion leap from his cock, shooting directly at her. She lifted her hands, too late; that second squirt not quite purposely hitting her full on in the face, much of it actually hitting her in the mouth where she swallowed. She actually had no choice, it would have been nearly impossible not to, let alone breathe. And good old Pete, just as Jeff and I remembered, was far from being done. Not wanting to let his own wife feel left out, Pete spun on one heel, still wanking his cock, holding still then a second later as the third massive squirt shot out. Still covering her eyes, though still peeking through her fingers, she laughed as he sure enough; started there. In seconds her hands appeared glued together, a trail of semen working its way down from there between her gorgeous pink nippled tits, down across her belly, and along the side of her upper right thigh. The majority of his first few canon shots might be over, but he continued to pump his cock, which now just oozed like chocolate sauce being poured over ice cream. Only now taking her hands away, Susan opened her mouth as her Pete stood over her, his cream dripping from the head of his cock in what seemed like a never ending drool of cum-sauce which his little wife now tried valiantly to collect. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" My Darlene quipped, now watching this, still trying to collect the liquid sauce running in small little rivers over her own body with her hands as she and Buxom Becky both ly there, eyes still glued to him and his magnificent specimen of a cock. "That's got to be; the most incredible cum shot I've ever seen in my entire life!" I couldn't help but laugh. "See dear? You're not the only one here, full of surprises." Mine wasn't nearly as copious of course as Pete's had been; but as far as cum-shots go, it wasn't half bad. I still managed to add a fair amount almost equally on all three girls. All three girls lying there now covered in joy juice, pretty much from head to toe.       As expected, My Darlene had worked herself through a small series of mini-orgasms, saving the big one for last, which would come later. That's basically how she preferred doing it. Both Buxom Becky and Little Susan had likewise gotten off, and it was again another bit of an unexpected surprise seeing Susan when she did. She tended to thrash wildly, her head rolling back and forth as she cried out, her hand now slapping her pussy, almost fiercely, the other hand, fingers inside working herself that way. That too was an amazing sight to watch. Poor Jeff almost looked disappointed, his cock once again stiff and hard, working himself up to what he obviously hoped would be another nice orgasm of his own. "Time for a break," My Darlene spoke, with both the other girls in agreement. "Fresh drinks, something to snack on; and then; see where things go from there." I was wondering about that myself, just as I knew the other guys were. We'd all been casting looks back and forth between one another, several questions I am sure remaining unasked. As the girls stood inside the small little kitchen area throwing together a few things to snack on, the hushed whispers of their voices alerted us to the fact they were obviously discussing something, occasionally throwing glances our way. "Throw some more wood on the fire, get it nice and warm in here for us," Darlene stated moments later. "We're going outside for a; to pee," she amended. "We'll be back in a few minutes." After fixing up some fresh drinks and snacks, the girls all went outside for a supposed pee-break. When they did, Pete turned to me worriedly asking. "Okay; admittedly, that was sort of fun; well, damn fun actually," he said sheepishly. "But I can't help wondering; I mean, we're not like; ah, you know, thinking about; "Swapping wives?" I said finishing for him. "No Pete, we're not. At least I'm fairly confident that isn't part of what's been going on here; or even will be. Though I'll agree with you on one hand, maybe it's something we should address with the girls once they come back inside again. See where all this is really headed, so that we all know what to expect, or not expect. I don't think any of us want to stumble into doing anything we're not comfortable with." I saw the relief in his eyes, as well as in Big Jeff's, as the three of us stoked up the fire a bit, making it even warmer, especially as we remained ass-naked at the moment. It was amazing to me as we went about doing that, how comfortable we had all seemed to become once again. Seeing one another naked again after all these years. Sure we had all changed and matured a little, during that time, though Pete's schlong continued to swing to and fro as he walked about, causing Jeff and I both to snicker while watching that. Just like old times. "It's taking them a hell of a long time to pee, don't you think?" Jeff asked. "I don't think that's all they're doing," I commented. "Something tells me, they're having a pow-wow out there, which means; I never finished however as the door suddenly opened, all three girls reentering the cabin. "Rules!" My wife said, the moment they came inside. "Rules?" Pete asked. "Yeah; rules. We thought it might be a good idea to go over a few simple rules, so that no one has any misconceptions or expectations regarding the weekend, since it appears we'll be spending much of it naked together." The guys looked at me, and I at them, and then back to the girls again. Obviously they'd been thinking along the same lines as we had. "Just so we're all on the same page here; this isn't about swapping partners. We're just having a bit of naughty fun is all; so beyond some touching perhaps, that's it. Unless we're comfortable doing things with our own partners, in front of anyone, that would be the only exception. Beyond that, it's strictly a touch only. Everyone okay with that?" Obviously the girls had come to a mutual consensus outside, which was fine with the three of us guys, too. Especially as we all readily agreed to that. "By touching; Pete asked a bit nervously, yet excitedly too by the edge we could all hear in his tone of voice. "Does that mean; "That it's okay if I walked up and fondled that sausage of yours?" Jeff s wife, Becky said; walking up in front of Susan s Pete, only inches away, though she didn't actually reach down and do it. "Hopefully; yes, as long as it's ok with you, and your wife," she said looking over towards Susan. Susan then walked over and stood in front of me, grinning. My wife, then standing directly in front of big Jeff, likewise grinning. "If you guys are good with just that; we are," my wife concluded. By the smiles on our faces they could see that we were, and then as though on some prearranged signal perhaps, all three reached down and clasped the three semi-flaccid cocks dangling there in front of them. Even then; I still tentatively reached out cupping Little Susan's firm full tits, taking delight in fondling them a bit, as the rest of the guys now began doing the same to the girls standing in front of them. It didn't take long, and the three of us were once again standing proud and tall. To be continued. Based on a post by Many Feathers, for Literotica.  

Some hauntings chase you through the dark. Others crawl right into your room. First, we head to Edison, New Jersey — home to one of the state's most infamous legends: Jake's Branch Road, an abandoned Nike missile base turned ghost town. When a group of friends decided to explore its decaying homes and eerie playground, they found far more than graffiti and cold air. And when the doors began slamming shut—trapping five grown men inside—they realized something was alive in that place… something that didn't want them to leave. Another listener recounts a horrifying episode of sleep paralysis—one that took on a terrifyingly personal form. As she lay frozen in bed, the figure of someone she knew began crawling toward her, fingernails clicking, hair hiding her face. Unable to move or scream, she could only watch as the air thickened with dread and darkness. From the haunted backroads of New Jersey to the quiet horror of a bedroom at Christmas, this episode proves one truth: when the paranormal comes calling, it doesn't always knock—it sometimes crawls. #trueghoststory #realghoststoriesonline #hauntedhouse #paranormalactivity #ghostencounters #realhaunting #sleepparalysis #newjerseyhaunting #supernatural #satanicritual #hauntedroad Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

(Ws.13:1-9; Ps.19:2-5; Lk.17:26-37) "Wherever the carcass is, there will the vultures gather." It is so that "the heavens proclaim the glory of God and the firmament proclaims His handiwork." It is true that "from the greatness and the beauty of created things their original author, by analogy, is seen." Yes, "the things seen are fair," and speak even of the glory of our God… but they shall indeed all come to naught when He alone stands before us on the last day. In the created world we exist. To an extent, in the created world we take refuge, discerning the hand of God at work in the things around us and coming by way of the knowledge presented to us in their beauty and wonder to that Hand which has created all. And so they can be beneficial to us. And so they can help to reveal God's presence to us who are so blind. But both the warning of our reading from Wisdom and Christ's own words in the gospel must be heeded: we cannot make "fire," "wind," or "mighty water" our gods; and we cannot be attached to our possessions. For these things of nature, as great as God has made them, and these things at our disposal, as much a blessing they may be to us for our time on earth, are passing away. Only God remains. Brothers and sisters, we must look upon the stars of heaven, we must see the signs wrought in our midst… but we cannot be distracted by them from the God who made them. We must eat and drink, we must take husbands and wives… but we cannot get drunk or live in lust, allowing the earthly to overcome our spirits. Lot's wife turned to see what she'd left behind; she longed to return to her possessions and the carnal life of Sodom. Unable to understand or accept the grace of the angel of God who was leading her forth to a safer and more glorious land, she was turned to salt – all of worth was taken from her; only the carcass remained. The day shall come when all we see shall be destroyed. And so, how important it is that our hearts not be set on all we see, else we shall be destroyed with it. Though with utmost respect we treat this world and even find joy in its beauty, we must ever keep in mind that its beauty is passing and is only significant if it leads to the eternal beauty of heaven. ******* O LORD, we must discern the signs of the times, for your Son will soon return and we will have to leave all things behind. YHWH, the heavens declare your glory to all, but do we upon earth hear the angels' voices? Do we take their message of your beauty and wonder and power to heart, or do we lose ourselves in these things and pass away as they do? For the things in the heavens and those upon the earth, though blessed to find your voice resounding in them, soon turn to dust – only your kingdom remains. Will we stand with you on the last Day? Soon your Son shall come and fully reveal your glory shining in our midst. Soon He will be here to carry us to Heaven. But will we be ready to travel with Him, or will our souls be dead and empty as a carcass? Will we turn back to the things of the earth and so be turned to salt, or place our faith in Him alone and so fly unto your presence? Let us not be lost in the things we see, O LORD, but raise our minds to look upon that which passes not away. Let us come to you.

Some hauntings chase you through the dark. Others crawl right into your room. First, we head to Edison, New Jersey — home to one of the state's most infamous legends: Jake's Branch Road, an abandoned Nike missile base turned ghost town. When a group of friends decided to explore its decaying homes and eerie playground, they found far more than graffiti and cold air. And when the doors began slamming shut—trapping five grown men inside—they realized something was alive in that place… something that didn't want them to leave. Another listener recounts a horrifying episode of sleep paralysis—one that took on a terrifyingly personal form. As she lay frozen in bed, the figure of someone she knew began crawling toward her, fingernails clicking, hair hiding her face. Unable to move or scream, she could only watch as the air thickened with dread and darkness. From the haunted backroads of New Jersey to the quiet horror of a bedroom at Christmas, this episode proves one truth: when the paranormal comes calling, it doesn't always knock—it sometimes crawls. #trueghoststory #realghoststoriesonline #hauntedhouse #paranormalactivity #ghostencounters #realhaunting #sleepparalysis #newjerseyhaunting #supernatural #satanicritual #hauntedroad Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

-Hundreds of truck drivers lose their license to work in Missouri - because they can't speak English-This is a crazy story - a middle school girl is expelled after punching a kid on a school bus, but there's more to the story. -Why would we want to import hundreds of thousands of communists into the US? -What are the most pretentious hobbies? See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

"Yes - Your Business Can Make a Corporate Film" with Natalie Scarsbrook is this week's chat on The Business Awards Show. Natalie, co-founder of Blatella Films, discusses her fascinating 12-year journey in corporate filmmaking and documentary production. She shares how she became an "accidental business owner" after graduating with a film studies degree in 2010 during the recession. Unable to find traditional employment, she and her fiancé (now husband) Ben started Blatella Films in their home borough of Thurrock in Essex, armed with just a second-hand camera and determination. The big news? Their documentary "Our Journey to Pride" has won an incredible 27 awards at film festivals worldwide, screening everywhere from America and Canada to India, Dubai, and Serbia. The film chronicles Thurrock's first-ever Pride Festival and has become a powerful message about LGBTQ+ acceptance and community celebration. Natalie reveals how corporate filmmaking doesn't have to be boring - Blatella Films brings cinematic techniques to business videos, working with clients from one-man bands to major organizations like C2C rail services and NHS trusts across Essex. Furthermore, she recently won a Silver Award for Best Creative Business at the Best Businesswomen Awards. Looking ahead, Natalie's directing her next documentary "Witchcraft and Stilettos: Redefining the Essex Girl Narrative," exploring stereotypes from the 1600s witch trials to modern-day Towie culture. Plus, get insider tips on working with your spouse, creating engaging business videos, and why film content is fundamental for modern businesses. About Blatella Blatella Films lives and breathes film. Combining  experience in the industry and training in both film theory and production, they work closely with clients to interpret and bring their ideas to life. Their hands on approach and multi-disciplined team of camera operators, editors, sound engineers, and concept artists, with 40 years combined experience, gives Blatella near unrivalled facilities to craft the best films for clients. Blatella pride themselves on excellent customer service and honesty with every client and on top of their top-of-the-line 4K cinema cameras and the most up to date editing facilities, offer truly cost effective and efficient film services. At the core of the company is a drive and passion to make engaging, high-quality films that tell compelling stories. Blatella firmly believes that corporate filmmaking can and should be interesting, well-made and be able to grab audiences. As a company they have garnered multiple award nominations and wins since setting up in 2012. They can adapt film to any industry or business.  In that time, they have made 2045 films and have 238 unique clients (figs Jan 2025). They have worked with everyone from small one-man-band businesses to large regional stalwarts and even internationally renowned brands. As a result, Blatella produces on average, three hundred projects a year.   {1:30} Natalie's journey to starting Blatella Films. {4:22} A documentary that won 27 awards!. {7:10} Getting the film distributed at festivals. {8:35} The impact and developing purpose of the film. {9:52} Leaving a lasting legacy. {11:47} The benefit of winning 27 awards in pitching for a new documentary. {13:15} Why Natalie entered a business awards. {15:57} Making corporate films more interesting. {20:26} Why it's essential to have video on your website. {22:05} The power of repurposing video. {23:05} The typical Blatella client profile. {25:15} Brainstorming ideas for your film with a professional film-maker. {27:47} Tips for working with your life partner. {32:00} What the future looks like for Blatella.   Connect with Debbie at: https://thebusinessawardsshow.co.uk                                         https://bestsmeawards.co.uk/ Connect with Natalie:   https://blatella.co.uk/ LinkedIn:  https://www.linkedin.com/company/blatellafilms/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/blatellafilms/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/blatellafilms/  

The story of Saikat Chakrabarti begins in a time when his parents' and ancestors' country was being torn apart, almost literally. In this episode, meet and get to know Saikat. These days, he's busy knocking on doors and otherwise hitting the ground in a bid to represent San Francisco in the US Congress. As I write this, just last week, Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi announced that she would not run for a 20th term. Timing! Let's go back to mid-Nineteenth Century India. Because his dad's family is Hindu, they were forced to relocate after Indian/Pakistani partition, fleeing their home country of Bangladesh for Kolkata (Calcutta) in India. Folks had warned Saikat's grandfather, a school teacher, to leave, and they did. Once in Kolkata, his grandfather opened a school largely for the kids of other refugees living in the area. Owing to the school's success, he was able to secure a one-bedroom apartment for his family of 12—he, his wife (Saikat's grandmother), and 10 kids, including Saikat's father. Saikat has been back to that apartment. He says that, walking around that neighborhood all these years later, folks still recognize his dad thanks to what his grandfather did for them and their family. His mom had it better than his dad. But still, she went to a school with dirt floors. Saikat looks to his ancestors' struggles—the communities they were part of, and how those communities came together to address issues the government neglected—for inspiration today. When his dad was young, a friend took him to an office where he was pitched to come to the United States. There was a whole set-up. The sell was simply the so-called American Dream. Saikat's parents met in India through an arrangement. Their respective parents knew someone who set it all up. They met and got married about a week later in a field. The visa his dad had applied for at that office came through after he'd been married, making it a bigger decision than it would've been if he were still single. He was also the primary earner in his own family, and they didn't want him to leave. He decided to take that leap regardless. His dad showed up in the US with $8 in his pocket and no job yet secured. He slept on a friends' couch in Manhattan and hit the pavement, résumé in hand. And it worked. He got a job. Saikat's dad had studied civil engineering in college. His first job in his new country was with a company that built skyscrapers … NYC skyscrapers. It was 1979. Saikat's mom came to join her husband soon after, and they had their first kid, Saikat's older sister, while living in Queens. His dad and his mom also experienced their first cold-weather winter that year. After a stint in New York, Samir moved his family to Pittsburgh. He had visited there in the summer, liked it, got a job offer, but relocated in the winter. Once again, the weather got the better of the young family. Seeking a warmer climate, they moved to Texas, first to Houston, and then to Fort Worth. At this point in the podcast, I decided to do something I've never done in the eight years since Storied: San Francisco began. And that's because I've never had any guests on the show who are from where I'm from. I chose to dork out with Saikat about my hometown. Thank you for indulging us (me, really). The first question I had for Saikat is: What hospital were you born in? Harris Methodist. Holy shit, same! He asked me my age (52), what schools I went to (Bruce Shulkey Elementary, Wedgwood Middle School [Saikat went there for one year], and Southwest High School). What a fun turn on this podcast, me rattling off the schools I went to like born-and-raised San Franciscans do. Heh. I digress into a sidebar about the race riot that happened at my high school during my junior year. You'll have to listen, or you can read a little more about it here. Then we get to hear about Saikat's experience growing up in the same city. His family lived in a suburb (apparently not far from where my parents still live), and he describes his early life as fairly standard—hanging out with friends, going to the mall (the same mall I was a regular at a decade or so before). But, being an Indian-American, Saikat experienced racism I was privileged enough to avoid. Saikat makes a distinction, though, between intentional, malicious racism and what I'd call accidental or unintentional racism. It's an important distinction, and he says most of what he experienced in Fort Worth was the less-harmful variety. He summarizes his childhood thusly—family, school, the Bengali-American community in Fort Worth. One member of that community, Saikat's best friend from childhood, lives downstairs from him in San Francisco today. His whole world in high school was, as Saikat puts it: hip-hop, basketball, and math. He got into Harvard, which he says he didn't expect. Many of his friends went to UT Austin (my alma mater), and he figured he'd go there, too. But he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to attend one of the most highly regarded universities in the country. But Harvard was a culture shock for Saikat. The Fort Worth community he'd known all his life was working- and middle-class. The student body at Harvard was largely kids who came from money and had wildly different interests than he did. Saikat went into his shell his freshman year. As he emerged from that shell, he found his people at Harvard. In 2007, Saikat graduated from Harvard with a degree in computer science. He'd spent a summer in San Francisco between his junior and senior years, and loved it. All his life, The City had been presented as this place where "cool shit happened." Movies, music, TV shows, skateboarding, the LGBTQIA and civil rights movements … and of course, the fledgling internet. Tech and social justice—both existed in a cutting-edge environment here. He lived in New York City for one year immediately after he graduated. We riff on life in NYC vs. life here, agreeing on most aspects. When it was time for Saikat to find a new place to live, San Francisco was the obvious choice. The woman he was dating (his wife and mother of his child today) went to school at Cornell in Ithaca, New York, where he visited often. But even her friends told Saikat that he was much more a NorCal-type. Unable to find housing anywhere else in SF, Saikat first landed in Park Merced. He was happy to have a San Francisco address, but didn't feel like he was living in The City. A trip to The Mission changed that quickly. Check back Thursday for Part 2 with Saikat. We recorded this podcast at Duboce Park Cafe in October 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

The Time Riders: Part 3 What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism? Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit! Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and observed them casually. "How; how can you have this all out on display?" Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into it?" "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it." "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age, for sure." "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality." "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark asked, trying to understand. "No, it's the same place," Chester answered simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode, Twenty-First Century." Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit right there." "Only at first." Chester allowed. "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?" "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it." "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire goods in the time stream?" He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt themselves or others." He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying to get laid?" He looked at Mark during this last question and the young man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary education facility." "Thanks." Mark muttered. "But, then he found his time machine, something called a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking sex." "This story sounds worse every time I hear it." Mark complained. "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're adventuring the time stream together." "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man, smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you will." "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said. "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester. "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer races." "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million years following the demise of the dinosaurs." "It's all very carefully regulated on remote islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most part." "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a kick." Mark mused, grinning. "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride," Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon." "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed. "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;” "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the Tunguska Incident?" "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908," Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred miles around." "No, that's what you need to think," he corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast, nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional yield by your age's standards." "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked. He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce. "Who would believe you?" "So how did you know that we were time travelers?" Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods. "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation," Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman." "Well there's something I don't hear very often back home!" she giggled. "And you're both in strangely good health, with unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience, so I sought to introduce myself." "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?" "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester. "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them, probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from getting weird." Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer. "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting too close to myself or something I've affected." "That was very generous of them," Chester said in a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know what I mean." Chester's Forest Farewell.  The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest further back. They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours. Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line." "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned to look at him. "It might be that the events you will see unfold work better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not, I shall return. Enjoy yourselves." And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere and then just fuck off? Nice." "He's not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided, sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge already, something I doubt he does frequently." "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait until we see something happen?" "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did he?" Becky pointed out. "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?" Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you come over here and fuck me?" Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling. "Now this is what time travel is all about," she purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?" "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body. "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan again. "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on my knees." She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to realize it. Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him. She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering in delight at the sight of his glistening skin. Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem down the road. She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he found so erotic. She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her. There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively. "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;” she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him, straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept her prize just out of reach. "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double over. "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue. "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;” Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to say. Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and she was more than happy to oblige. She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out, throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them. Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her. She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again, probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily. "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;” He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum. Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly, slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at him and smirk. "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly. "You ready for the main event?" Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body, finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down, making them both sigh in relief. "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her, filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered." Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving her a delicious stretch. "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it." Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass. Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body. Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip, working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her lover, bathing his middle with her excitement. Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically, she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control. She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft, holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of him filling her ass. She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward, until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs. "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you fucked me and came in me." "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love your ass, Becky." "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred, undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;” They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting. But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning to share that unreal ecstasy. The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her, filling her up. Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to center herself. But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally, she giggled, squeezing his hands. "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep," she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?" "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just spontaneously combust inside you." "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "I guess we happily wait, then." They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together. Then there was a 'click!' sound. Arrest in Flagrante delicto. Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the naked couple with varying level of interest. The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle, indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened. The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up. "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said sourly. "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now that we've;“ "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us." "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!" Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy the grass stains on her clothes! They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but notice that a lot of them were wearing red. "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well. "That's all we need." "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to stay quiet. They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky. Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as well. "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show respect!" Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but he said nothing. "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked finally. "Your names, my children." "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky said humbly, still not looking up. "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked, looking over at Mark now. "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia." Mark stammered. "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual accents, I admit." "Your Eminence," said one of the captains, looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing unspeakable carnal acts to one another." The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming distaste. "You don't say." "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering. "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly, her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another, but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he was in some kind of trouble. Go figure. "And what grounds can you give me to believe you, child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest. "Please," she begged, her head still bowed. "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!" This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise." Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety seriously. Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched attractiveness." Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning. "And yet you say you found her acting in a most carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued. "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent." "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now. "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope her. Gut shot. "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at him impassively. There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!' sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards. The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly. He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him. He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage. "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!" Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands bunched against sheets that were covering him. Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble. "Calm yourself. Think!" He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them and got shot in the stomach; His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy, dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his throat. He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not knowing. He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a strange, round scar about two inches in diameter. Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room. His bed was solid and comfortable. "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of waking up." "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly. "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to dead." "How did I;” "You should have died," Chester continued. "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things." "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark asked. "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue is to simply not be present." "So why leave us there?" "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense." Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so my body just healed itself?" Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to mention the clothes you left behind." "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment." Mark muttered. "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed you." "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you said you were a dealer in chroniques." "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save you." "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed. "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?" "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully common." "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?" Mark asked hopefully. "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head. "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used them at all was because you were out cold." "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?" "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it." "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something. "Where's Becky?" Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't there. What do you remember?" Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck that. "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm; they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish." "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now." "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed really interested in Becky." "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty." "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?" "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet, then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting." "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning. "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and the Queen hate each other." Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here, where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings." "What a dick." Mark muttered. "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's been with the royal court for three." "Meaning that she's either loving life as a lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily. "I guess I have to go get her." "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you affect this rescue?' "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't leave her. She'd kill me." "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were you." "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in frustration. Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment. "Do you love this woman?" Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya' know." "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do to discretely help you." "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin' time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out." "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host. "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know." Mark nodded. "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence, involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not work because of a slight temporal consideration." "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated flatly, not impressed. "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad," Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing, allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can." "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can loan me?" "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a blade if necessary." Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?" "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus, I'm pretty sure." Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax. "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened, they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?" Mark nodded. "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o Macro del Strade of Seville?" Palace Mission. Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself. Fair enough. Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages, speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest translation to what he was saying. This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him. The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing else. He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris. "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?" the man had asked. "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it." "Granted, but what's your personal motivation, Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?" Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to have sex with women from history." To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting laid in your own time-period difficult?" "Not really, no." "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a girl." Mark shook his head. "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly, shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're no one in particular." "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had protested. "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman. Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun King's France?" He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky." "Peasants, I assume?" "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her for us." "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the history that you don't know that you don't know." "What?" "What year did World War Two end?" Chester asked. "Simple. 1945." "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War start?" "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it." "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council." "The what?" "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically, leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel can be tedious." "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the moment." Mark grumbled. "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine appeared in their path." "But don't you make a living selling to people like me?" Mark asked. "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and butter." "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked somewhat dully. "More and more with each passing moment," Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth, and your accents are absurd." Mark said nothing. "And by the way," added his host. "Those little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you." Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people from the turn-of-the-millennium were. Carting to Paris. He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra money. Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but still did as he was asked. Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay, but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to reach Paris. They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper's two daughters would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough trouble as it is.  Then he meditated; Known knowns. Known unknowns. Unknown unknowns. Fuck. The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he? "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally, calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be pretty. And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing the unique scent of fabled Paris. "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with laughter. They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How had people ever lived like this? He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth. Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of Paris' infamous streets. He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing. The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry, not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in, closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he could. He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run, not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration. High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity. There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them. Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful, because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back. "Hello," he said faltering French. "My name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big help." "That you do, my friend," replied the person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That much is obvious, because your French is painful." Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side, strange for a Parisian. Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was serene, the teeth within white and perfect. Lady Alexandra. <

NORRIS BEGINS NAILING THE FINAL NAILS IN THE CHAMPIONSHIP!...PIASTRI LOOSING INTEREST…MAX DRIVER OF THE DAY AND...FERNANDO READY FOR LAS VEGAS. THIS WEEK'S NASIR HAMEED CORNER, WE KEEP IT SIMPLE WITH SOME DUKE OF DIJON AND NASIR BANTER! It was a dominant performance from Lando Norris as he claimed his seventh victory of the year, following up on his victory in the sprint race with another 25 points on Sunday, extending his championship lead to 24 points over Oscar Piastri. Early race incidents would leave Oscar Piastri with a shock penalty and lead to the retirement of Charles Leclerc through no fault of his own. And in unexpected fashion, Max Verstappen would grab fans' attention following his conversion of a pit-lane start all the way to a P3 finish, grabbing a podium on a day many fans would expect his championship shot to slip away from him. None of the top ten were able to get past each other in the initial portion of Lap 1 except Liam Lawson on George Russell, with Lewis Hamilton's Ferrari having the weakest start of any on the grid, dropping four places into 17th. A loss of control from home favorite Gabriel Bortoleto in the Sauber occurred only halfway through the first lap, causing the 21-year-old to hit the barriers, bringing out a safety car and ending his race. The safety car was brought out for the third time in a row at the Brazilian Grand Prix, lasting for three laps and coming in on Lap 4. There was more chaos immediately, as Charles Leclerc, Kimi Antonelli and Oscar Piastri went three abreast at Turn 1 after the Italian struggled to keep up with Lando Norris' pace following the restart. Piastri and Antonelli would collide, sending the Mercedes into Leclerc's Ferrari and causing the Monegasque racer to lose both a tire and incur suspension damage, ending his race prematurely. Unable to continue, Leclerc's Ferrari would pull over and bring out a Virtual Safety Car, with the McLarens of Norris and Piastri leading from the Mercedes of Antonelli and the Racing Bull of Isack Hadjar. Laps 14 and 17 would see ten-second penalties applied for both Yuki Tsunoda and Oscar Piastri, with Tsunoda's given for an incident with Lance Stroll and Piastri's for the aforementioned crash after the safety car restart. Verstappen, who had taken an early pit stop to change from hard tires to mediums, found himself up to seventh by Lap 19 thanks to Hadjar and Pierre Gasly entering the pit lane. Seventh turned into fifth by Lap 21, the Dutchman having gained 15 places in the first third of the race and looking impressive as he looked to restore his championship ambitions. LANDO: “It was an amazing race, and it's nice to win here in Brazil. It's an amazing track with amazing fans. This one was for one of my mentors, Gil, I hope he'd be very proud. “It was a great win, but to be honest, seeing how quick the competition was  today, it's clear we've still got work to do. I'll go back, see the team, congratulate them and see what we can do better. Looking ahead, I'll keep focusing on myself, keep my head down, ignore the noise and keep pushing.” MAX: From pitlane to podium, this weekend has completely turned around for me, something that I didn't think was possible. The start of the race was very hectic and I picked up a puncture early on from a load of debris on the track which meant that I pretty much had to start the race again. The Team used the right strategy from start to finish which allowed me to get through all of the traffic very efficiently. I definitely had to send it a few times to get past the other cars but I love doing that and ended up having an unexpectedly fun race. Overall it showed that we had really good pace today and that the grip was much better than the last couple of days. The atmosphere at Interlagos was amazing and it really spurred me on. I am so proud of the Team and would like to thank them for all of the hard work that they put into making the changes post Quali last night. SAO PAULO, BRAZIL - NOVEMBER 09: Race winner Lando Norris of Great Britain and McLaren Second placed Andrea Kimi Antonelli of Italy and Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team Third placed Max Verstappen of the Netherlands and Oracle Red Bull Racing and Mark Norris, Director of Commercial Trackside Operations at McLaren on the podium during the F1 Grand Prix of Brazil at Autodromo Jose Carlos Pace on November 09, 2025 in Sao Paulo, Brazil. (Photo by Mark Thompson/Getty Images) We kept pushing and took multiple risks this weekend because we never want to settle for second and we didn't give up. To start in the pitlane and finish P3 on the podium only 10 seconds off P1 was incredible. Now all we can do is keep fighting hard over the final few races of the season and do the best that we possibly can whilst trying to find as much performance as we can extract from the car. A huge congratulations to Kimi as well, he drove amazingly well which will have given his confidence a huge boost which is great for any rookie!" Alex Albon: It was a good race for the fans today but unfortunately for us it was a bit of a race to forget. We had good pace when we could show it. We've struggled with pace all weekend but seem to have recovered a little bit today. In the end what took us out of contention for points was that I think we stayed out too long on the first stint and we never really recovered from there. In the last stint we were quick and were fighting our way back up the grid and just missed out on a point at the end. It's frustrating that our rivals scored points today, but we will regroup and look forward to a better weekend in Las Vegas. Carlos Sainz: Not the day I was hoping for. Once I got squeezed on turn 1, I had considerable damage to the car and my race was compromised from there. We managed to stay in the hunt for points most of the race but after a slow first stop and compiled with the damage, that was it unfortunately. Time to go back home and see what we can do in these types of circuits, as Qatar will also be a challenge. A few races to go, so we cannot relax. Let's keep going.  

Texans are Unable to Close out Games Food Debates Junkie of the Day

What is space? What is time? Where did the universe come from? The answers to mankind's most enduring questions may lie in science's greatest enigma: black holes.A black hole is a region of space where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. This can occur when a star approaches the end of its life. Unable to generate enough heat to maintain its outer layers, it shrinks catastrophically down to an infinitely dense point.When this phenomenon was first proposed in 1916, it defied scientific understanding so much that Albert Einstein dismissed it as too ridiculous to be true. But scientists have since proven otherwise. In 1971, Paul Murdin and Louise Webster discovered the first black hole: Cygnus X-1. Later, in the 1990s, astronomers using NASA's Hubble Space Telescope found that not only do black holes exist, supermassive black holes lie at the heart of almost every galaxy, including our own. It would take another three decades to confirm this phenomenon. On 10 April 2019, a team of astronomers made history by producing the first image of a black hole.A Crack in Everything: How Black Holes Came in from the Cold and Took Cosmic Centre Stage (Apollo, 2025)is the story of how black holes came in from the cold and took cosmic centre stage. As a journalist, Marcus Chown interviews many of the scientists who made the key discoveries, and, as a former physicist, he translates the most esoteric of science into everyday language. The result is a uniquely engaging page-turner that tells one of the great untold stories in modern science. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

What is space? What is time? Where did the universe come from? The answers to mankind's most enduring questions may lie in science's greatest enigma: black holes.A black hole is a region of space where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. This can occur when a star approaches the end of its life. Unable to generate enough heat to maintain its outer layers, it shrinks catastrophically down to an infinitely dense point.When this phenomenon was first proposed in 1916, it defied scientific understanding so much that Albert Einstein dismissed it as too ridiculous to be true. But scientists have since proven otherwise. In 1971, Paul Murdin and Louise Webster discovered the first black hole: Cygnus X-1. Later, in the 1990s, astronomers using NASA's Hubble Space Telescope found that not only do black holes exist, supermassive black holes lie at the heart of almost every galaxy, including our own. It would take another three decades to confirm this phenomenon. On 10 April 2019, a team of astronomers made history by producing the first image of a black hole.A Crack in Everything: How Black Holes Came in from the Cold and Took Cosmic Centre Stage (Apollo, 2025)is the story of how black holes came in from the cold and took cosmic centre stage. As a journalist, Marcus Chown interviews many of the scientists who made the key discoveries, and, as a former physicist, he translates the most esoteric of science into everyday language. The result is a uniquely engaging page-turner that tells one of the great untold stories in modern science. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

We have made it to Friday and Ryan Wrecker is filling in for Marc Cox talking about the career of Nancy Pelosi who announced retirement yesterday. A Facism protestor is unable to define facism. In Scott on the Spot, Scott Jagow talks about the history of the Cathedral Basilica. Finally, how drug prices being handled with government shutdown.

What is space? What is time? Where did the universe come from? The answers to mankind's most enduring questions may lie in science's greatest enigma: black holes.A black hole is a region of space where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. This can occur when a star approaches the end of its life. Unable to generate enough heat to maintain its outer layers, it shrinks catastrophically down to an infinitely dense point.When this phenomenon was first proposed in 1916, it defied scientific understanding so much that Albert Einstein dismissed it as too ridiculous to be true. But scientists have since proven otherwise. In 1971, Paul Murdin and Louise Webster discovered the first black hole: Cygnus X-1. Later, in the 1990s, astronomers using NASA's Hubble Space Telescope found that not only do black holes exist, supermassive black holes lie at the heart of almost every galaxy, including our own. It would take another three decades to confirm this phenomenon. On 10 April 2019, a team of astronomers made history by producing the first image of a black hole.A Crack in Everything: How Black Holes Came in from the Cold and Took Cosmic Centre Stage (Apollo, 2025)is the story of how black holes came in from the cold and took cosmic centre stage. As a journalist, Marcus Chown interviews many of the scientists who made the key discoveries, and, as a former physicist, he translates the most esoteric of science into everyday language. The result is a uniquely engaging page-turner that tells one of the great untold stories in modern science. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/science

What is space? What is time? Where did the universe come from? The answers to mankind's most enduring questions may lie in science's greatest enigma: black holes.A black hole is a region of space where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. This can occur when a star approaches the end of its life. Unable to generate enough heat to maintain its outer layers, it shrinks catastrophically down to an infinitely dense point.When this phenomenon was first proposed in 1916, it defied scientific understanding so much that Albert Einstein dismissed it as too ridiculous to be true. But scientists have since proven otherwise. In 1971, Paul Murdin and Louise Webster discovered the first black hole: Cygnus X-1. Later, in the 1990s, astronomers using NASA's Hubble Space Telescope found that not only do black holes exist, supermassive black holes lie at the heart of almost every galaxy, including our own. It would take another three decades to confirm this phenomenon. On 10 April 2019, a team of astronomers made history by producing the first image of a black hole.A Crack in Everything: How Black Holes Came in from the Cold and Took Cosmic Centre Stage (Apollo, 2025)is the story of how black holes came in from the cold and took cosmic centre stage. As a journalist, Marcus Chown interviews many of the scientists who made the key discoveries, and, as a former physicist, he translates the most esoteric of science into everyday language. The result is a uniquely engaging page-turner that tells one of the great untold stories in modern science. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

What is space? What is time? Where did the universe come from? The answers to mankind's most enduring questions may lie in science's greatest enigma: black holes.A black hole is a region of space where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. This can occur when a star approaches the end of its life. Unable to generate enough heat to maintain its outer layers, it shrinks catastrophically down to an infinitely dense point.When this phenomenon was first proposed in 1916, it defied scientific understanding so much that Albert Einstein dismissed it as too ridiculous to be true. But scientists have since proven otherwise. In 1971, Paul Murdin and Louise Webster discovered the first black hole: Cygnus X-1. Later, in the 1990s, astronomers using NASA's Hubble Space Telescope found that not only do black holes exist, supermassive black holes lie at the heart of almost every galaxy, including our own. It would take another three decades to confirm this phenomenon. On 10 April 2019, a team of astronomers made history by producing the first image of a black hole.A Crack in Everything: How Black Holes Came in from the Cold and Took Cosmic Centre Stage (Apollo, 2025)is the story of how black holes came in from the cold and took cosmic centre stage. As a journalist, Marcus Chown interviews many of the scientists who made the key discoveries, and, as a former physicist, he translates the most esoteric of science into everyday language. The result is a uniquely engaging page-turner that tells one of the great untold stories in modern science. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/popular-culture

What is space? What is time? Where did the universe come from? The answers to mankind's most enduring questions may lie in science's greatest enigma: black holes.A black hole is a region of space where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. This can occur when a star approaches the end of its life. Unable to generate enough heat to maintain its outer layers, it shrinks catastrophically down to an infinitely dense point.When this phenomenon was first proposed in 1916, it defied scientific understanding so much that Albert Einstein dismissed it as too ridiculous to be true. But scientists have since proven otherwise. In 1971, Paul Murdin and Louise Webster discovered the first black hole: Cygnus X-1. Later, in the 1990s, astronomers using NASA's Hubble Space Telescope found that not only do black holes exist, supermassive black holes lie at the heart of almost every galaxy, including our own. It would take another three decades to confirm this phenomenon. On 10 April 2019, a team of astronomers made history by producing the first image of a black hole.A Crack in Everything: How Black Holes Came in from the Cold and Took Cosmic Centre Stage (Apollo, 2025)is the story of how black holes came in from the cold and took cosmic centre stage. As a journalist, Marcus Chown interviews many of the scientists who made the key discoveries, and, as a former physicist, he translates the most esoteric of science into everyday language. The result is a uniquely engaging page-turner that tells one of the great untold stories in modern science. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/book-of-the-day

Bruce & Gaydos discuss the YouTube TV dispute with Disney. Disney's entire network of channels were pulled off of YouTube TV due to a contract dispute, leaving some Arizonans unable to watch the Arizona Cardinals on Monday Night Football.

Last time we spoke about the fall of Wuhan. In a country frayed by war, the Yangtze became a pulsing artery, carrying both hunger and hope. Chiang Kai-shek faced a brutal choice: defend Wuhan to the last man, or flood the rivers to buy time. He chose both, setting sullen floodwaters loose along the Yellow River to slow the invaders, a temporary mercy that spared some lives while ripping many from their homes. On the river's banks, a plethora of Chinese forces struggled to unite. The NRA, fractured into rival zones, clung to lines with stubborn grit as Japanese forces poured through Anqing, Jiujiang, and beyond, turning the Yangtze into a deadly corridor. Madang's fortifications withstood bombardment and gas, yet the price was paid in troops and civilians drowned or displaced. Commanders like Xue Yue wrestled stubbornly for every foothold, every bend in the river. The Battle of Wanjialing became a symbol: a desperate, months-long pincer where Chinese divisions finally tightened their cordon and halted the enemy's flow. By autumn, the Japanese pressed onward to seize Tianjiazhen and cut supply lines, while Guangzhou fell to a ruthless blockade. The Fall of Wuhan loomed inevitable, yet the story remained one of fierce endurance against overwhelming odds.   #174 The Changsha Fire Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. In the summer of 1938, amid the upheaval surrounding Chiang Kai-shek, one of his most important alliances came to an end. On June 22, all German advisers to the Nationalist government were summoned back; any who refused would be deemed guilty of high treason. Since World War I, a peculiar bond had tied the German Weimar Republic and China: two fledgling states, both weak and only partially sovereign. Under the Versailles Treaty of 1919, Germany had lost extraterritorial rights on Chinese soil, which paradoxically allowed Berlin to engage with China as an equal partner rather than a traditional colonizer. This made German interests more welcome in business and politics than those of other Western powers. Chiang's military reorganization depended on German officers such as von Seeckt and von Falkenhausen, and Hitler's rise in 1933 had not immediately severed the connection between the two countries. Chiang did not share Nazi ideology with Germany, but he viewed Berlin as a potential ally and pressed to persuade it to side with China rather than Japan as China's principal East Asian, anti-Communist partner. In June 1937, H. H. Kung led a delegation to Berlin, met Hitler, and argued for an alliance with China. Yet the outbreak of war and the Nationalists' retreat to Wuhan convinced Hitler's government to align with Japan, resulting in the recall of all German advisers. Chiang responded with a speech praising von Falkenhausen, insisting that "our friend's enemy is our enemy too," and lauding the German Army's loyalty and ethics as a model for the Chinese forces. He added, "After we have won the War of Resistance, I believe you'll want to come back to the Far East and advise our country again." Von Falkenhausen would later become the governor of Nazi-occupied Belgium, then be lauded after the war for secretly saving many Jewish lives. As the Germans departed, the roof of the train transporting them bore a prominent German flag with a swastika, a prudent precaution given Wuhan's vulnerability to air bombardment. The Japanese were tightening their grip on the city, even as Chinese forces, numbering around 800,000, made a stubborn stand. The Yellow River floods blocked northern access, so the Japanese chose to advance via the Yangtze, aided by roughly nine divisions and the might of the Imperial Navy. The Chinese fought bravely, but their defenses could not withstand the superior technology of the Japanese fleet. The only substantial external aid came from Soviet pilots flying aircraft bought from the USSR as part of Stalin's effort to keep China in the war; between 1938 and 1940, some 2,000 pilots offered their services. From June 24 to 27, Japanese bombers relentlessly pounded the Madang fortress along the Yangtze until it fell. A month later, on July 26, Chinese defenders abandoned Jiujiang, southeast of Wuhan, and its civilian population endured a wave of atrocities at the hands of the invaders. News of Jiujiang's fate stiffened resolve. Chiang delivered a pointed address to his troops on July 31, arguing that Wuhan's defense was essential and that losing the city would split the country into hostile halves, complicating logistics and movement. He warned that Wuhan's defense would also be a spiritual test: "the place has deep revolutionary ties," and public sympathy for China's plight was growing as Japanese atrocities became known. Yet Chiang worried about the behavior of Chinese soldiers. He condemned looting as a suicidal act that would destroy the citizens' trust in the military. Commanders, he warned, must stay at their posts; the memory of the Madang debacle underscored the consequences of cowardice. Unlike Shanghai, Wuhan had shelters, but he cautioned against retreating into them and leaving soldiers exposed. Officers who failed in loyalty could expect no support in return. This pep talk, combined with the belief that the army was making a last stand, may have slowed the Japanese advance along the Yangtze in August. Under General Xue Yue, about 100,000 Chinese troops pushed back the invaders at Huangmei. At Tianjiazhen, thousands fought until the end of September, with poison gas finally forcing Japanese victory. Yet even then, Chinese generals struggled to coordinate. In Xinyang, Li Zongren's Guangxi troops were exhausted; they expected relief from Hu Zongnan's forces, but Hu instead withdrew, allowing Japan to capture the city without a fight. The fall of Xinyang enabled Japanese control of the Ping-Han railway, signaling Wuhan's doom. Chiang again spoke to Wuhan's defenders, balancing encouragement with a grim realism about possible loss. Although Wuhan's international connections were substantial, foreign aid would be unlikely. If evacuation became necessary, the army should have a clear plan, including designated routes. He recalled the disastrous December retreat from Nanjing, where "foreigners and Chinese alike turned it into an empty city." Troops had been tired and outnumbered; Chiang defended the decision to defend Nanjing, insisting the army had sacrificed itself for the capital and Sun Yat-sen's tomb. Were the army to retreat again, he warned, it would be the greatest shame in five thousand years of Chinese history. The loss of Madang was another humiliation. By defending Wuhan, he argued, China could avenge its fallen comrades and cleanse its conscience; otherwise, it could not honor its martyrs. Mao Zedong, observing the situation from his far-off base at Yan'an, agreed strongly that Chiang should not defend Wuhan to the death. He warned in mid-October that if Wuhan could not be defended, the war's trajectory would shift, potentially strengthening the Nationalists–Communists cooperation, deepening popular mobilization, and expanding guerrilla warfare. The defense of Wuhan, Mao argued, should drain the enemy and buy time to advance the broader struggle, not become a doomed stalemate. In a protracted war, some strongholds might be abandoned temporarily to sustain the longer fight. The Japanese Army captured Wuchang and Hankou on 26 October and captured Hanyang on the 27th, which concluded the campaign in Wuhan. The battle had lasted four and a half months and ended with the Nationalist army's voluntary withdrawal. In the battle itself, the Japanese army captured Wuhan's three towns and held the heartland of China, achieving a tactical victory. Yet strategically, Japan failed to meet its objectives. Imperial Headquarters believed that "capturing Hankou and Guangzhou would allow them to dominate China." Consequently, the Imperial Conference planned the Battle of Wuhan to seize Wuhan quickly and compel the Chinese government to surrender. It also decreed that "national forces should be concentrated to achieve the war objectives within a year and end the war against China." According to Yoshiaki Yoshimi and Seiya Matsuno, Hirohito authorized the use of chemical weapons against China by specific orders known as rinsanmei. During the Battle of Wuhan, Prince Kan'in Kotohito transmitted the emperor's orders to deploy toxic gas 375 times between August and October 1938. Another memorandum uncovered by Yoshimi indicates that Prince Naruhiko Higashikuni authorized the use of poison gas against the Chinese on 16 August 1938. A League of Nations resolution adopted on 14 May condemned the Imperial Japanese Army's use of toxic gas. Japan's heavy use of chemical weapons against China was driven by manpower shortages and China's lack of poison gas stockpiles to retaliate. Poison gas was employed at Hankou in the Battle of Wuhan to break Chinese resistance after conventional assaults had failed. Rana Mitter notes that, under General Xue Yue, approximately 100,000 Chinese troops halted Japanese advances at Huangmei, and at the fortress of Tianjiazhen, thousands fought until the end of September, with Japanese victory secured only through the use of poison gas. Chinese generals also struggled with coordination at Xinyang; Li Zongren's Guangxi troops were exhausted, and Hu Zongnan's forces, believed to be coming to relieve them, instead withdrew. Japan subsequently used poison gas against Chinese Muslim forces at the Battle of Wuyuan and the Battle of West Suiyuan. However, the Chinese government did not surrender with the loss of Wuhan and Guangzhou, nor did Japan's invasion end with Wuhan and Guangzhou's capture. After Wuhan fell, the government issued a reaffirmation: "Temporary changes of advance and retreat will not shake our resolve to resist the Japanese invasion," and "the gain or loss of any city will not affect the overall situation of the war." It pledged to "fight with even greater sorrow, greater perseverance, greater steadfastness, greater diligence, and greater courage," dedicating itself to a long, comprehensive war of resistance. In the Japanese-occupied rear areas, large armed anti-Japanese forces grew, and substantial tracts of territory were recovered. As the Japanese army themselves acknowledged, "the restoration of public security in the occupied areas was actually limited to a few kilometers on both sides of the main transportation lines." Thus, the Battle of Wuhan did not merely inflict a further strategic defeat on Japan; it also marked a turning point in Japan's strategic posture, from offense to defense. Due to the Nationalist Army's resolute resistance, Japan mobilized its largest force to date for the attack, about 250,000 personnel, who were replenished four to five times over the battle, for a total of roughly 300,000. The invaders held clear advantages in land, sea, and air power and fought for four and a half months. Yet they failed to annihilate the Nationalist main force, nor did they break the will to resist or the army's combat effectiveness. Instead, the campaign dealt a severe blow to the Japanese Army's vitality. Japanese-cited casualties totaled 4,506 dead and 17,380 wounded for the 11th Army; the 2nd Army suffered 2,300 killed in action, 7,600 wounded, and 900 died of disease. Including casualties across the navy and the air force, the overall toll was about 35,500. By contrast, the Nationalist Government Military Commission's General Staff Department, drawing on unit-level reports, calculated Japanese casualties at 256,000. The discrepancy between Japanese and Nationalist tallies illustrates the inflationary tendencies of each side's reporting. Following Wuhan, a weakened Japanese force confronted an extended front. Unable to mount large-scale strategic offensives, unlike Shanghai, Xuzhou, or Wuhan itself, the Japanese to a greater extent adopted a defensive posture. This transition shifted China's War of Resistance from a strategic defensive phase into a strategic stalemate, while the invaders found themselves caught in a protracted war—a development they most disliked. Consequently, Japan's invasion strategy pivoted: away from primary frontal offensives toward a greater reliance on political inducements with secondary military action, and toward diverting forces to "security" operations behind enemy lines rather than pushing decisive frontal campaigns. Japan, an island nation with limited strategic resources, depended heavily on imports. By the time of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, Japan's gold reserves,including reserves for issuing banknotes, amounted to only about 1.35 billion yen. In effect, Japan's currency reserves constrained the scale of the war from the outset. The country launched its aggression while seeking an early solution to the conflict. To sustain its war of aggression against China, the total value of military supplies imported from overseas in 1937 reached approximately 960 million yen. By June of the following year, for the Battle of Wuhan, even rifles used in training were recalled to outfit the expanding army. The sustained increase in troops also strained domestic labor, food, and energy supplies. By 1939, after Wuhan, Japan's military expenditure had climbed to about 6.156 billion yen, far exceeding national reserves. This stark reality exposed Japan's economic fragility and its inability to guarantee a steady supply of military materiel, increasing pressure on the leadership at the Central Command. The Chief of Staff and the Minister of War lamented the mismatch between outward strength and underlying weakness: "Outwardly strong but weak is a reflection of our country today, and this will not last long." In sum, the Wuhan campaign coincided with a decline in the organization, equipment, and combat effectiveness of the Japanese army compared with before the battle. This erosion of capability helped drive Japan to alter its political and military strategy, shifting toward a method of inflicting pressure on China and attempting to "use China to control China", that is, fighting in ways designed to sustain the broader war effort. Tragically a major element of Chiang Kai-shek's retreat strategy was the age-old "scorched earth" policy. In fact, China originated the phrase and the practice. Shanghai escaped the last-minute torching because of foreigners whose property rights were protected. But in Nanjing, the burning and destruction began with increasing zeal. What could not be moved inland, such as remaining rice stocks, oil in tanks, and other facilities, was to be blown up or devastated. Civilians were told to follow the army inland, to rebuild later behind the natural barrier of Sichuan terrain. Many urban residents complied, but the peasantry did not embrace the plan. The scorched-earth policy served as powerful propaganda for the occupying Japanese army and, even more so, for the Reds. Yet they could hardly have foreseen the propaganda that Changsha would soon supply them. In June, the Changsha Evacuation Guidance Office was established to coordinate land and water evacuation routes. By the end of October, Wuhan's three towns had fallen, and on November 10 the Japanese army captured Yueyang, turning Changsha into the next primary invasion target. Beginning on October 9, Japanese aircraft intensified from sporadic raids on Changsha to large-scale bombing. On October 27, the Changsha Municipal Government urgently evacuated all residents, exempting only able-bodied men, the elderly, the weak, women, and children. The baojia system was mobilized to go door-to-door, enforcing compliance. On November 7, Chiang Kai-shek convened a military meeting at Rongyuan Garden to review the war plan and finalize a "scorched earth war of resistance." Xu Quan, Chief of Staff of the Security Command, drafted the detailed implementation plan. On November 10, Shi Guoji, Chief of Staff of the Security Command, presided over a joint meeting of Changsha's party, government, military, police, and civilian organizations to devise a strategy. The Changsha Destruction Command was immediately established, bringing together district commanders and several arson squads. The command actively prepared arson equipment and stacked flammable materials along major traffic arteries. Chiang decided that the city of Changsha was vulnerable and either gave the impression or the direct order, honestly really depends on the source your reading, to burn the city to the ground to prevent it falling to the enemy. At 9:00 AM on November 12, Chiang Kai-shek telegraphed Zhang Zhizhong: "One hour to arrive, Chairman Zhang, Changsha, confidential. If Changsha falls, the entire city must be burned. Please make thorough preparations in advance and do not delay." And here it seems a game of broken telephone sort of resulted in one of the worst fire disasters of all time. If your asking pro Chiang sources, the message was clearly, put up a defense, once thats fallen, burn the city down before the Japanese enter. Obviously this was to account for getting civilians out safely and so forth. If you read lets call it more modern CPP aligned sources, its the opposite. Chiang intentionally ordering the city to burn down as fast as possible, but in through my research, I think it was a colossal miscommunication. Regardless Zhongzheng Wen, Minister of the Interior, echoed the message. Simultaneously, Lin Wei, Deputy Director of Chiang Kai-shek's Secretariat, instructed Zhang Zhizhong by long-distance telephone: "If Changsha falls, the entire city must be burned." Zhang summoned Feng Ti, Commander of the Provincial Capital Garrison, and Xu Quan, Director of the Provincial Security Bureau, to outline arson procedures. He designated the Garrison Command to shoulder the preparations, with the Security Bureau assisting. At 4:00 PM, Zhang appointed Xu Kun, Commander of the Second Garrison Regiment, as chief commander of the arson operation, with Wang Weining, Captain of the Social Training Corps, and Xu Quan, Chief of Staff of the Garrison Command, as deputies. At 6:00 PM, the Garrison Command held an emergency meeting ordering all government agencies and organizations in the city to be ready for evacuation at any moment. By around 10:15 PM, all urban police posts had withdrawn. Around 2:00 AM (November 13), a false report circulated that "Japanese troops have reached Xinhe" . Firefighters stationed at various locations rushed out with kerosene-fueled devices, burning everything in sight, shops and houses alike. In an instant, Changsha became a sea of flames. The blaze raged for 72 hours. The Hunan Province Anti-Japanese War Loss Statistics, compiled by the Hunan Provincial Government Statistics Office of the Kuomintang, report that the fire inflicted economic losses of more than 1 billion yuan, a sum equivalent to about 1.7 trillion yuan after the victory in the war. This figure represented roughly 43% of Changsha's total economic value at the time. Regarding casualties, contemporary sources provide varying figures. A Xinhua Daily report from November 20, 1938 noted that authorities mobilized manpower to bury more than 600 bodies, though the total number of burned remains could not be precisely counted. A Central News Agency reporter on November 19 stated that in the Xiangyuan fire, more than 2,000 residents could not escape, and most of the bodies had already been buried. There are further claims that in the Changsha Fire, more than 20,000 residents were burned to death. In terms of displacement, Changsha's population before the fire was about 300,000, and by November 12, 90% had been evacuated. After the fire, authorities registered 124,000 victims, including 815 orphans sheltered in Lito and Maosgang.  Building damage constituted the other major dimension of the catastrophe, with the greatest losses occurring to residential houses, shops, schools, factories, government offices, banks, hospitals, newspaper offices, warehouses, and cultural and entertainment venues, as well as numerous historic buildings such as palaces, temples, private gardens, and the former residences of notable figures; among these, residential and commercial structures suffered the most, followed by factories and schools. Inspector Gao Yihan, who conducted a post-fire investigation, observed that the prosperous areas within Changsha's ring road, including Nanzheng Street and Bajiaoting, were almost completely destroyed, and in other major markets only a handful of shops remained, leading to an overall estimate that surviving or stalemated houses were likely less than 20%. Housing and street data from the early post-liberation period reveal that Changsha had more than 1,100 streets and alleys; of these, more than 690 were completely burned and more than 330 had fewer than five surviving houses, accounting for about 29%, with nearly 90% of the city's streets severely damaged. More than 440 streets were not completely destroyed, but among these, over 190 had only one or two houses remaining and over 130 had only three or four houses remaining; about 60 streets, roughly 6% had 30 to 40 surviving houses, around 30 streets, 3% had 11 to 20 houses, 10 streets, 1% had 21 to 30 houses, and three streets ) had more than 30 houses remaining. Housing statistics from 1952 show that 2,538 houses survived the fire, about 6.57% of the city's total housing stock, with private houses totaling 305,800 square meters and public houses 537,900 square meters. By 1956, the surviving area of both private and public housing totaled 843,700 square meters, roughly 12.3% of the city's total housing area at that time. Alongside these losses, all equipment, materials, funds, goods, books, archives, antiques, and cultural relics that had not been moved were also destroyed.  At the time of the Changsha Fire, Zhou Enlai, then Deputy Minister of the Political Department of the Nationalist Government's Military Commission, was in Changsha alongside Ye Jianying, Guo Moruo, and others. On November 12, 1938, Zhou Enlai attended a meeting held by Changsha cultural groups at Changsha Normal School to commemorate Sun Yat-sen's 72nd birthday. Guo Moruo later recalled that Zhou Enlai and Ye Jianying were awakened by the blaze that night; they each carried a suitcase and evacuated to Xiangtan, with Zhou reportedly displaying considerable indignation at the sudden, unprovoked fire. On the 16th, Zhou Enlai rushed back to Changsha and, together with Chen Cheng, Zhang Zhizhong, and others, inspected the disaster. He mobilized personnel from three departments, with Tian Han and Guo Moruo at the forefront, to form the Changsha Fire Aftermath Task Force, which began debris clearance, care for the injured, and the establishment of soup kitchens. A few days later, on the 22nd, the Hunan Provincial Government established the Changsha Fire Temporary Relief Committee to coordinate relief efforts.  On the night of November 16, 1938, Chiang Kai-shek arrived in Changsha and, the next day, ascended Tianxin Pavilion. Sha Wei, head of the Cultural Relics Section of the Changsha Tianxin Pavilion Park Management Office, and a long-time researcher of the pavilion, explained that documentation indicates Chiang Kai-shek, upon seeing the city largely reduced to scorched earth with little left intact, grew visibly angry. After descending from Tianxin Pavilion, Chiang immediately ordered the arrest of Changsha Garrison Commander Feng Ti, Changsha Police Chief Wen Chongfu, and Commander of the Second Garrison Regiment Xu Kun, and arranged a military trial with a two-day deadline. The interrogation began at 7:00 a.m. on November 18. Liang Xiaojin records that Xu Kun and Wen Chongfu insisted their actions followed orders from the Security Command, while Feng Ti admitted negligence and violations of procedure, calling his acts unforgivable. The trial found Feng Ti to be the principal offender, with Wen Chongfu and Xu Kun as accomplices, and sentenced all three to prison terms of varying lengths. The verdict was sent to Chiang Kai-shek for approval, who was deeply dissatisfied and personally annotated the drafts: he asserted that Feng Ti, as the city's security head, was negligent and must be shot immediately; Wen Chongfu, as police chief, disobeyed orders and fled, and must be shot immediately; Xu Kun, for neglect of duty, must be shot immediately. The court then altered the arson charge in the verdict to "insulting his duty and harming the people" in line with Chiang's instructions. Chiang Kai-shek, citing "failure to supervise personnel and precautions," dismissed Zhang from his post, though he remained in office to oversee aftermath operations. Zhang Zhizhong later recalled Chiang Kai-shek's response after addressing the Changsha fire: a pointed admission that the fundamental cause lay not with a single individual but with the collective leadership's mistakes, and that the error must be acknowledged as a collective failure. All eyes now shifted to the new center of resistance, Chongqing, the temporary capital. Chiang's "Free China" no longer meant the whole country; it now encompassed Sichuan, Hunan, and Henan, but not Jiangsu or Zhejiang. The eastern provinces were effectively lost, along with China's major customs revenues, the country's most fertile regions, and its most advanced infrastructure. The center of political gravity moved far to the west, into a country the Nationalists had never controlled, where everything was unfamiliar and unpredictable, from topography and dialects to diets. On the map, it might have seemed that Chiang still ruled much of China, but vast swaths of the north and northwest were sparsely populated; most of China's population lay in the east and south, where Nationalist control was either gone or held only precariously. The combined pressures of events and returning travelers were gradually shifting American attitudes toward the Japanese incident. Europe remained largely indifferent, with Hitler absorbing most attention, but the United States began to worry about developments in the Pacific. Roosevelt initiated a January 1939 appeal to raise a million dollars for Chinese civilians in distress, and the response quickly materialized. While the Chinese did not expect direct intervention, they hoped to deter further American economic cooperation with Japan and to halt Japan's purchases of scrap iron, oil, gasoline, shipping, and, above all, weapons from the United States. Public opinion in America was sufficiently stirred to sustain a campaign against silk stockings, a symbolic gesture of boycott that achieved limited effect; Japan nonetheless continued to procure strategic materials. Within this chorus, the left remained a persistent but often discordant ally to the Nationalists. The Institute of Pacific Relations, sympathetic to communist aims, urged America to act, pressuring policymakers and sounding alarms about China. Yet the party line remained firmly pro-Chiang Kai-shek: the Japanese advance seemed too rapid and threatening to the Reds' interests. Most oil and iron debates stalled; American businessmen resented British trade ties with Japan, and Britain refused to join any mutual cutoff, arguing that the Western powers were not at war with Japan. What occurred in China was still commonly referred to in Western diplomatic circles as "the Incident." Wang Jingwei's would make his final defection, yes in a long ass history of defections. Mr Wang Jingwei had been very busy traveling to Guangzhou, then Northwest to speak with Feng Yuxiang, many telegrams went back and forth. He returned to the Nationalist government showing his face to foreign presses and so forth. While other prominent rivals of Chiang, Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi, and others, rallied when they perceived Japan as a real threat; all did so except Wang Jingwei. Wang, who had long believed himself the natural heir to Sun Yat-sen and who had repeatedly sought to ascend to power, seemed willing to cooperate with Japan if it served his own aims. I will just say it, Wang Jingwei was a rat. He had always been a rat, never changed. Opinions on Chiang Kai-Shek vary, but I think almost everyone can agree Wang Jingwei was one of the worst characters of this time period. Now Wang Jingwei could not distinguish between allies and enemies and was prepared to accept help from whomever offered it, believing he could outmaneuver Tokyo when necessary. Friends in Shanghai and abroad whispered that it was not too late to influence events, arguing that the broader struggle was not merely China versus Japan but a clash between principled leaders and a tyrannical, self-serving clique, Western imperialism's apologists who needed Chiang removed. For a time Wang drifted within the Kuomintang, moving between Nanjing, Wuhan, Changsha, and Chongqing, maintaining discreet lines of communication with his confidants. The Japanese faced a governance problem typical of conquerors who possess conquered territory: how to rule effectively while continuing the war. They imagined Asia under Japanese-led leadership, an East Asia united by a shared Co-Prosperity Sphere but divided by traditional borders. To sustain this vision, they sought local leaders who could cooperate. The search yielded few viable options; would-be collaborators were soon assassinated, proved incompetent, or proved corrupt. The Japanese concluded it would require more time and education. In the end, Wang Jingwei emerged as a preferred figure. Chongqing, meanwhile, seemed surprised by Wang's ascent. He had moved west to Chengde, then to Kunming, attempted, and failed to win over Yunnan's warlords, and eventually proceeded to Hanoi in Indochina, arriving in Hong Kong by year's end. He sent Chiang Kai-shek a telegram suggesting acceptance of Konoe's terms for peace, which Chungking rejected. In time, Wang would establish his own Kuomintang faction in Shanghai, combining rigorous administration with pervasive secret-police activity characteristic of occupied regimes. By 1940, he would be formally installed as "Chairman of China." But that is a story for another episode.  In the north, the Japanese and the CCP were locked in an uneasy stalemate. Mao's army could make it impossible for the Japanese to hold deep countryside far from the railway lines that enabled mass troop movement into China's interior. Yet the Communists could not defeat the occupiers. In the dark days of October 1938—fifteen months after the war began—one constant remained. Observers (Chinese businessmen, British diplomats, Japanese generals) repeatedly predicted that each new disaster would signal the end of Chinese resistance and force a swift surrender, or at least a negotiated settlement in which the government would accept harsher terms from Tokyo. But even after defenders were expelled from Shanghai, Nanjing, and Wuhan, despite the terrifying might Japan had brought to bear on Chinese resistance, and despite the invader's manpower, technology, and resources, China continued to fight. Yet it fought alone. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. In a land shredded by war, Wuhan burned under brutal sieges, then Changsha followed, a cruel blaze born of orders and miscommunications. Leaders wrestled with retreat, scorched-earth vows, and moral debts as Japanese force and Chinese resilience clashed for months. Mao urged strategy over martyrdom, Wang Jingwei's scheming shadow loomed, and Chongqing rose as the westward beacon. Yet China endured, a stubborn flame refusing to surrender to the coming storm. The war stretched on, unfinished and unyielding.

Tom Logue - November 2nd 2025 God forgives 10,000 talents — and forgiven people forgive. This week, Tom continues our King and His Kingdom series in Matthew 18:21–35, where Jesus teaches what forgiveness actually is, and what reconciliation actually requires. Using the parable of the unforgiving servant, Tom shows how forgiveness is not pretending nothing happened — forgiveness is paying the debt yourself instead of making the other person pay. He also unpacks why reconciliation requires both ingredients: repentance + forgiveness… not one without the other. This message calls us out of pride, bitterness, tally-keeping, and “they owe me,” into the freedom and humility of the gospel — where God cancels our unpayable debt through Christ, and empowers us to extend that same mercy toward others. Learn more about our church: https://restoredtemecula.church Follow us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/restoredtemecula and Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/restoredtemecula #Matthew18 #Forgiveness #Reconciliation #Grace #KingAndHisKingdom #RestoredTemecula Share this message with someone who needs to hear it. Chapters (00:00:00) - Wonders Welcome(00:00:54) - Matthew, The King and His Kingdom(00:01:49) - Matthew 18: Holy Spirit Prays for Us(00:03:32) - Jesus' Words on Reconciliation (vs21)(00:07:43) - Jesus Forgive 10,000 Talons!(00:13:51) - Forgiveness in the Parable of Tim Keller(00:15:35) - Forgiveness Is Not Making the Perpetrator Pay Their Debt(00:17:33) - What is Forgiveness in Marriage?(00:20:55) - Forgiveness and Reconciliation: Two Ingredients(00:24:59) - Why We Should Not shortcut Reconciliation With Abused Women(00:28:04) - Does God Call You To Repeatedly Subject Yourself to Unrep(00:32:33) - Forgiveness and Reparation in the Bible(00:35:17) - Holding a Grudge(00:39:02) - God Forgives 10,000 Talents(00:44:52) - Give Love(00:45:35) - God's Word(00:46:14) - The Reasons Why You're Unable to Forgive Others(00:53:09) - God Compels You When Your Heart aches(00:55:36) - Coming soon: The Suitable

Antoinette Lee relied on a walker, service dog, and full-time caregiver, having previously managed her parents' care before their passing. She wished she'd known more about treatment options to better advocate for them—and for herself. Facing her fifth surgery, with failing organs and no clear path to recovery despite excellent insurance, she hit rock bottom. Unable to eat or drink for five weeks, she said goodbye to her service dog, Phoebe, preparing for the end. Today, she is a sponsored adventure sportswoman, writer, and motivational speaker, having traded her walker for a life of joy. Phoebe, her service dog, is now a semi-retired pet. Website: https://nnbl.blog/new-normal-big-llfe-blog/ New Normal Big Life Podcast: https://podmatch.com/hostdetail/175371555728328881c036efa Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/antoinetteleemba/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nnblpodcast/ X: https://x.com/NNBLBlog You may also contact him through email, Jamesperduespeaks@comcast.net

Will Adam Carter reveal which restaurant he believes serves the best Juicy Lucy burger? That's how we open today's edition of Ask Adam Anything.

Gaza City is determined to rebuild, but promises of aid and equipment are already being broken, says Asem Alnabih.

El Clasico. The most famous rivalry of all time in football. And boy was it a tough watch if you're a Barcelona fan. Unable to make it 5 wins in a row against Real Madrid, a feat last accomplished during the 2008-2009 period, Barcelona lost 2-1 to go 5 points behind Madrid in the La Liga table. But, this isn't the end of their issues. On this week's episode, we go into the details that led to their loss.

The show-ending “Smoking Gun” segment on the Friday Bob Rose Show 10-24-25

https://www.storiesbyjennifer.com/ Children's mental health has become a front-page issue across the country. Schools, parents and counselors are all grappling with how to support kids who are struggling with stress and anxiety. Author and school counselor Jennifer Licate puts a relatable face on childhood anxiety in her children's chapter book My Anxiety is Messing Things Up, and she is available for interviews to discuss coping strategies and other valuable mental health insights with your audience. Please refer to the press release below for additional information, and let me know if you would like to see a copy of Jennifer's book for interview and/or review purposes. Jennifer shares some of her advice for young readers here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0_UP9Zc2f0. FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Children's Book Shines Light on Anxiety in High-Achieving Kids PHILADELPHIA, Penn., Oct. 2, 2025 — With youth anxiety rates climbing nationwide, an age-appropriate chapter book is helping kids ages 9-14 recognize the toll that stress takes on their bodies and friendships—and offers strategies to help them cope. My Anxiety is Messing Things Up, by school counselor and award-winning author Jennifer Licate, follows Oscar, a hardworking student whose drive to succeed earns him praise in the classroom and on the field—but also leaves him wracked with anxiety. Unable to sleep and increasingly irritable, Oscar lashes out at his friends. When a teacher invites him to a school support group, Oscar must decide if he's willing to seek help and try new strategies for relief. Licate expertly combines a fast-paced, relatable story with guided questions and activities at the end of each chapter. These tools help young readers explore their own feelings, while giving parents, teachers and counselors a structured way to start meaningful conversations about anxiety. “I wrote the book to help children understand anxiety,” said Licate. “Not all symptoms look the same, and not all strategies will work for everyone. My hope is that kids learn there are multiple tools they can try to feel more confident and less overwhelmed.” The release comes at a time when educators are reporting increased stress levels among students. According to recent studies, more than one in three children experience anxiety symptoms, and sleep disruption is one of the most common side effects. Licate, who has worked as a school counselor for more than a decade, believes early intervention and open discussion can help prevent anxiety from becoming debilitating later in life. “Children do not need to wait until anxiety is debilitating before using strategies to help their symptoms,” Licate added. “Using strategies to deal with anxiety can help children and anyone reduce their symptoms so they can live their best lives, work toward achieving their goals and feel confident.”

When a scientist discovers a formula that lets him move faster than the eye can see, he and a corrupt detective race toward ultimate power—only to find that time itself becomes their executioner. | The Devil and Mr. O, “Fast One” (aka “Speed”) | #RetroRadio EP0540Support our Halloween “Overcoming the Darkness” campaign to help people with depression: https://weirddarkness.com/HOPECHAPTERS & TIME STAMPS (All Times Approximate)…00:00:00.000 = Show Open00:01:30.028 = CBS Radio Mystery Theater, “Cherchez La Femme” (January 15, 1977) ***WD00:49:24.197 = The Devil and Mr. O, “The Fast One, aka Speed” (January 05, 1943)01:17:46.910 = Diary of Fate, “Walter Vincent” (May 25, 1948) ***WD01:46:44.707 = Dimension X, “No Contact” (April 29, 1950)02:10:59.901 = The Strange Dr. Weird, “Dead Man's Paradise” (April 17, 1945) ***WD (LQ)02:22:56.351 = The Creaking Door, “Don't Take My Blood” (January 05, 1965) ***WD02:53:51.123 = The Eleventh Hour, “Truckload of Nitro” (1963)03:22:25.263 = Escape, “The Man Who Could Work Miracles” (September 19, 1948)03:51:49.478 = Everyman's Theater, “This Precious Freedom” (October 04, 1940) ***WD04:20:25.201 = Murder By Experts, “It's Luck That Counts” (August 29, 1949) ***WD04:49:55.315 = Show Close(ADU) = Air Date Unknown(LQ) = Low Quality***WD = Remastered, edited, or cleaned up by Weird Darkness to make the episode more listenable. Audio may not be pristine, but it will be better than the original file which may have been unusable or more difficult to hear without editing.Weird Darkness theme by Alibi Music LibraryABOUT WEIRD DARKNESS: Weird Darkness is a true crime and paranormal podcast narrated by professional award-winning voice actor, Darren Marlar. Seven days per week, Weird Darkness focuses on all thing strange and macabre such as haunted locations, unsolved mysteries, true ghost stories, supernatural manifestations, urban legends, unsolved or cold case murders, conspiracy theories, and more. On Thursdays, this scary stories podcast features horror fiction along with the occasional creepypasta. Weird Darkness has been named one of the “Best 20 Storytellers in Podcasting” by Podcast Business Journal. Listeners have described the show as a cross between “Coast to Coast” with Art Bell, “The Twilight Zone” with Rod Serling, “Unsolved Mysteries” with Robert Stack, and “In Search Of” with Leonard Nimoy.= = = = ="I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46= = = = =WeirdDarkness® is a registered trademark. Copyright ©2025, Weird Darkness.= = = = =#ParanormalRadio #ScienceFiction #OldTimeRadio #OTR #OTRHorror #ClassicRadioShows #HorrorRadioShows #VintageRadioDramas #WeirdDarknessCUSTOM WEBPAGE: https://weirddarkness.com/WDRR0540

Cyndee is a poet, writer, and former special educationteacher with over 25 years of experience. Her life journey has included many roles—mother, counselor, widow, and survivor. Battling multiple illnesses suchas lupus, chronic kidney disease, and anemia, she spent over 11 years in a wheelchair and faced near-death experiences multiple times. Unable to takemedication due to severe allergies, her recovery is seen as nothing short of miraculous. Despite her struggles, she has helped countless othersthrough their own challenges. Considered a living inspiration and medical enigma, Cyndee believes life is both miracle and magic—filled with beauty,light, and meaning. She reminds us never to let life's hardships define who we are, because there's only one YOU.Link to the episode can be found here: #drdanamzallag, #drdanpodcast, #Happinessjourneywithdrdan,#ddanmotivation, #inspiringinterviews, #drdancbt, #drdantherapy,#drdancoaching, #drdanhappiness,  

Monsters come in many forms and each has its own definition and interpretation. Sometimes monsters are separate from other scary creatures and other times they help categorize them. In the pre-ancient world, monsters were natural disasters and phenomena, symbolized by Titans. We actually create Titan-like gods today when we name hurricanes, and we perform appeasement rituals when we advocate for green policies and products to stop the destruction of an attack. In the ancient world monsters were outsiders, people with birth defects, people who were deformed from an accident, people who were tall or short (relatively), etc. Today we take the tall and small alike and profit from them still in the form of entertainment just as they were paraded through royal palaces in the past in Europe. In the pre-modern world, the latter ideas were maintained but monsters were shaped into theological demons, largely extracted from vegetation myths and zealous-imagination. More modern monsters have been defined by movies, ecology, and psychology. Also, from Dracula and Michael Myers to Godzilla and zombies, science can explain just as much as the supernatural classifications can. Dracula sucks “life force,” Michael is “pure evil” that cannot be killed, Godzilla is the folly of man, and zombies may be formed by drugs or fungus. Horror is such because it brings the abnormal to view, by sound, children, clowns, dolls and the general “uncanny valley.” The fear of snakes and danger of electricity certainly contributed to Medusa's ability, just as deer antlers contributed to the devil. Humans have also grown horns or tales, even in contemporary times, while some have suffered from clawed hands from ectrodactyly. Modern political and religious monsters are in abundance, too, and some are so vile they essentially suffer from clinical lycanthropy. Unable to control their emotions they transform into beasts and scream like a banshee. *The is the FREE archive, which includes advertisements. If you want an ad-free experience, you can subscribe below underneath the show description.FREE ARCHIVE (w. ads)SUBSCRIPTION ARCHIVEX / TWITTER FACEBOOKWEBSITEBuyMe-CoffeePaypal: rdgable1991@gmail.comCashApp: $rdgable EMAIL: rdgable@yahoo.com / TSTRadio@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-secret-teachings--5328407/support.

Meet Cute Presents: Arlo's Type - Part 5, a comedy-thriller. Unable to shake free from the hold that Hemera has on her, Arlo returns for another treatment. After the treatment, her suspicions of Hemera are gone… as is another member. Story by Michael Schwartz. Produced and Directed by Michael Schwartz. Audio Produced, Edited and Sound Designed by Sean Paulsen. Assistant Directed by Michael McLeod. SVP, Production and Development: Lucie Ledbetter. Head of Development: Savannah Hankinson. Starring: Devin Kelley, Briga Heelan, Ben Palacios, Vinny Thomas, William Demeritt, and Amy Noble. Follow @MeetCute on ⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠ and @MeetCuteRomComs on ⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠ & ⁠⁠⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠⁠⁠.  Check out our other rom-coms, including KERRI with Pauline Chalamet, IMPERFECT MATCH with Arden Cho, and DUMP HIM! with Minnie Mills. Check out our other dramas, including FIRE & ICE with Chiara Aurelia and Jack Martin, and BURN, BABY—Season 2 coming in January. Check out our other fantasies, including A PROPHECY OF INCENSE AND SNOW and I'VE BECOME A TRUE VILLAINESS.   Have a crush on us? Follow Meet Cute, rate us 5 stars, and leave a review! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Ramos-Ramos v. Bondi, Nos. 23-9567, 24-9524 (10th Cir. Oct. 15, 2025)clear error standard of review; no need for BIA remand; circuit court granting asylum; unable or unwilling to protect; police failure to solve crime; police ignoring reporting; single mothers; nexus; relocation; fear of gangs; family based particular social group; Honduras Pastor-Hernandez v. Bondi, No. 24-3104 (6th Cir. Oct. 17, 2025)motion to reopen to apply for voluntary departure; affidavit swearing that passport application is pending; conclusory affidavit; prima facie case to relief Ani v. Bondi, No. 24-2339 (9th Cir. Oct. 16, 2025)adverse credibility; Alam; marriage fraud; denying asylum based on fraud to obtain different immigration benefitsSponsors and friends of the podcast!Kurzban Kurzban Tetzeli and Pratt P.A.Immigration, serious injury, and business lawyers serving clients in Florida, California, and all over the world for over 40 years. Eimmigration "Simplifies immigration casework. Legal professionals use it to advance cases faster, delight clients, and grow their practices."Homepage!Demo Link!Questions to ask! Stafi"Remote staffing solutions for businesses of all sizes"Promo Code: STAFI2025Click me! Gonzales & Gonzales Immigration BondsP: (833) 409-9200immigrationbond.com   Want to become a patron?Click here to check out our Patreon Page! CONTACT INFORMATIONEmail: kgregg@kktplaw.comFacebook: @immigrationreviewInstagram: @immigrationreviewTwitter: @immreview About your hostCase notesRecent criminal-immigration article (p.18)Featured in San Diego VoyagerDISCLAIMER & CREDITSSee Eps. 1-200Support the show

When opportunity doesn't knock, some women build their own door — and that's exactly what Lauren Wittenberg Weiner did. As a military spouse stationed overseas, Lauren refused to accept the limits placed on her career. Lauren is the author of Unruly, where she reminds women that following the rules doesn't mean following everyone else. She's living proof that grit, purpose, and innovation can turn barriers into breakthroughs. She calls herself an “accidental entrepreneur.” Unable to find work, she forged her own path in the male-dominated world of government contracting — and ended up building an empire that empowers military spouses. Lauren founded WWC Global, now one of the largest woman-owned contracting firms in Tampa Bay. Her company made history by landing a $200 million U.S. Special Operations Command award, supporting elite units like the Navy SEALs and Green Berets. Over two decades, she scaled WWC Global to nearly $100 million in annual revenue before selling it in 2022 — all while employing more than 250 military spouses around the world. She also founded In Gear Career, a nonprofit that merged with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce Foundation's Hiring Our Heroes program, helping thousands of military spouses sustain meaningful employment through every PCS move. Learn more in this episode of Women Road Warriors with Shelley Johnson and Kathy Tuccaro.https://laurenwittenbergweiner.com/https://www.militarysurvivor.com/benefits-1-1/in-gear-careerhttps://womenroadwarriors.com/ https://womenspowernetwork.netmilitary spouse employment, women in business, government contracting, female entrepreneurs, inspiring stories, #Military #USMilitary #MilitarySpouses #MilitaryCareers #WWCGlobal #InGearCareer #LaurenWittenbergWeiner #ShelleyJohnson #ShelleyMJohnson #KathyTuccaro #WomenRoadWarriors

Facilitator:  SandhyaTopics:  Message pop up from bank,  App library screen, is it safe to update?;  Copy text from message to notes;  Delete button not there;  Battery level air tags; Deleted mail Can'tfind the share in photos; Facebook just showing pictures;  Phone not announcing callers; Using Pandora lists;  Using reactions on posts; Anyone use Kindle app; Using Apple Pay;  Finding deleted text messages;  Using the pin in messeges; Not finding gmail inbox; Changing metrics; Customizing the apps in docks;  How to find mail app; Deleting multiple text messages; Deleting recent call log; Pinning an email? Using remind later;  Switching to classic in mail;  Unable to unmute; Hidden feature in mail; Archiving emails; Auto punctuation; Where are the arches folder?Buzz Byte:   How to Send a new Message in mail.

1. Khmelnytsky and the Russian Imperial Project The discussion begins with the 1888 statue of Bohdan Khmelnytsky in Kyiv, symbolizing the 200-year quest to dominate Ukraine. Khmelnytsky, a 17th-century Orthodox nobleman, led a rebellion against the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth to protect the Orthodox Church and create a proto-Ukrainian state. Unable to win against Poland, he swore allegiance to the Tsar of Moscow, leading Russians to celebrate him as the unifier of Ukraine and Russia. Khmelnytsky intended a military alliance, but the Tsars viewed it as Ukraine fully joining Russia, gradually dismantling Cossack freedoms. By 1783, coinciding with the US Peace of Paris, Catherine the Great formalized Russia's imperial project, expanding to the Black Sea and integrating Crimea. Russia treated Ukraine as a colonial project, calling it "New Russia" and inviting diverse European settlers, seeking to force these people to become Russian, which Ukrainians resisted, forming the core of ongoing conflict. 1859 ODESSA

6. Ramadi's Infighting and ISIS Infiltration Ramadi saw tragic infighting among Sunni tribal elders utilizing outside powers to increase influence, unable to form coherent political project while US treated them monolithically. Market scenes devolved into chaos with 14 factions fighting simultaneously. After Al-Qaeda's defeat, no one expected jihadis' return, but Maliki's sectarianism and security forces' corruption created societal crack that disciplined ISIS forces infiltrated, while Iran's influence existed since Americans entered Baghdad.

Clowns are supposed to make you laugh, but often can make you shudder. What is supposed to be a figure of fun is for many the stuff of nightmares. Coulrophobia —the irrational fear of clowns that's surprisingly common. This has been reinforced by popular culture, and many horror film-makers know that a scary clown is the perfect recipe for thrills, resulting in them becoming an icon of terror. A study published in Frontiers in Psychology in February 2023 surveyed 900 individuals, revealing that 53% experienced clown-related fear. Participants pinpointed clown makeup as the primary source of discomfort, with its distortion of human features creating an air of menace. Unable to discern true emotions behind the painted facade, people feel unsettled by the clown's unpredictable antics. The Science Behind the Fear What exactly is so unnerving about clowns? Are murderous clowns a reality or mere fiction? In under 3 minutes, we answer your questions! To listen to the last episodes, you can click here: ⁠How do I know if I'm addicted to sex?⁠ ⁠Why does time go by faster with age?⁠ ⁠Why should I eat more fermented foods?⁠ A podcast written and realised by Amber Minogue. First Broadcast: 7/5/2024 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A newly released report from a national security watchdog confirms what Islamic charities and civil liberties advocates have long argued: that the Canada Revenue Agency's approach to countering terrorist financing is deeply flawed. The report from the National Security and Intelligence Review Agency was triggered by years of allegations that the CRA's Review and Analysis Division unfairly targets Islamic charities due to bias and Islamophobia. Steven Zhou is Media and Communication Lead with the National Council of Canadian Muslims.

This week we are back with another regular BFYTW Gameshow. Game 1 - Like Share Block Story 1 - World's Biggest and Most Horrible Mosquito Factory Now Pumping Out Hundreds of Millions Weekly - https://www.oxitec.com/en/news/oxitec-marks-commissioning-of-worlds-largest-mosquito-manufacturing-complex-to-supply-the-worlds-two-most-powerful-dengue-control-solutions-at-global-scale Story 2 - Police Stop Car Making Illegal U-Turn, Unable to Issue Ticket Because It's Empty - https://www.facebook.com/sanbrunopolice/posts/pfbid0YCboufzQSMc2PByVdxJBg7KSuyoaV7Hc4dMArDgaCVLvpsfEVDxnAuocmsx77oUQl Story 3 - Black Swan Called 'Mr. Terminator' Evicted From UK River After Attempting Swan Murder Rampage - https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/black-swan-mr-terminator-stratford-upon-avon-b2837801.htmlGame 2 - Pop Culture Fight Club The game of answering a tough question and defending your position returns! I'll ask each player for the best something or their favorite something from the world of pop culture, and they'll have to explain and defend themselves as best they can, and the best answer as judged by me will get two episode points. This week, I've been inspired by our recent hockey outing, so I want to know what's your favorite sports movie of all time and why is it the best?Game 3 - The Cost is Correct Three items, final bids rules, player to win two listings gets three points.Promos From The Middle and Married with TVProudly Sponsored by Peace, Love, & Budhttps://www.plbud.com/Shoutouts to our Patrons; Mexi, Justin B, Kristin F ,Jeramey F ,Flaose, Todd, Jim, Flaos, Bridget F., David M., Dave A, Erin S, Donna/Colin Maggs,The GateLeapers, Kacey S., William M., Crunchie, DJ Xanthus, Crystal D., Jeff S, Gina W., 8BitFree Followers on Patreon: Joáo C, Joep, Leonardo, Irsya Cahyo, Teanna Cm Lucho D.Founding Members of @OddPodsMedia https://www.patreon.com/BFYTWShow Music by @KeroseneLetter and @Mexigun Our Merch Available by contacting us.https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyJG-PDn6su32Et_eSiC6RQwww.BFYTWpod.com

Tom Brokaw famously described America's World War II servicemen as the “Greatest Generation”. But according to the historian David Nasaw, the Americans who fought in the Second World War are better understood as The Wounded Generation. His eponymous new book describes the pain and hardships that 16 million veterans endured upon their return home - a tragic story of PTSD, racism and family breakup. Brokaw celebrated the nobility with which these ex-soldiers got on with civilian life without either complaining or even talking about the war. But for Nasaw, this silence wasn't just stoicism—it was often undiagnosed and sometimes even untreatable trauma.1. WWII Was America's Longest and Most Brutal War The average soldier served nearly three years in uniform (compared to less than one year in WWI), with 75% deployed overseas. Combat on the European front was relentless, especially in the final year, with severe manpower shortages keeping GIs on the front lines for weeks or months without relief.2. Millions Returned with Undiagnosed PTSD Veterans came home with what we now recognize as PTSD, but it was neither diagnosed nor treated. Unable to talk about their experiences, many self-medicated with alcohol. The silence wasn't stoicism—it was trauma. Writers like Salinger and Vonnegut could only process their experiences through fiction years later.3. The GI Bill Excluded Most Black Veterans While celebrated as transformative legislation, the GI Bill's benefits were distributed by local officials. In the South, this meant Black veterans were systematically denied college access (segregated schools were full) and unemployment benefits (they were told to return to sharecropping). Only Northern Black veterans like Harry Belafonte, John Coltrane, and Tito Puente could fully access their benefits.4. America Faced Its Worst Housing Crisis Ever No homes had been built during the Depression or the war years, creating unprecedented shortages when 16 million servicemen returned. This housing crisis, combined with fears of renewed economic depression, added to veterans' anxiety about rebuilding their lives. Politicians like JFK and Jacob Javits fought hard for veterans' housing subsidies.5. The War's Aftermath Lasted Decades 1946 saw record divorce rates and increased lynchings as racial tensions exploded. Veterans who liberated concentration camps or survived POW camps (especially in the Pacific) carried lifelong trauma. Nasaw's central message: wars don't end with peace treaties—the harm to soldiers and civilians lasts for generations.Keen On America is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit keenon.substack.com/subscribe

What happens when the life you built suddenly unravels? Dan Boettcher had the degrees, the career path, and the promise of a future in diplomacy. On paper, it looked perfect. But inside, he was falling apart – and one surreal moment in an airport lounge sent his world in an entirely different direction. In this conversation, Dan shares what it means to start over when the future you planned is no longer possible. His story is not just about survival but about transformation, and how meaning can show up in unexpected places. How a mental health crisis forced him to step away from the identity he built The moment he found meaning in unexpected grace and healing Why jewelry, storytelling, and transformation became his new way forward This is a conversation about breaking open, rediscovering purpose, and finding beauty in places you never thought to look. Guest Bio Daniel Boettcher is the founder of The Intrepid Wendell and a Graduate Gemologist (GIA) with academic degrees from Yale, Georgetown, and American Universities. He began his career in law while preparing for a future in diplomacy, but a serious mental health crisis ultimately altered that path. Unable to pursue government work due to clearance restrictions, Daniel set out on a journey to rediscover meaning and passion – leading him back to a childhood love of gems and minerals. Today, he travels the globe sourcing rare gemstones and precious metals to craft custom jewelry that reflects the personal stories of his clients. A digital nomad, seasoned world traveler, and polyglot, he has visited over 100 countries and finds inspiration in every culture he encounters. Sure On This Shining Night Sure on this shining night Of star made shadows round, Kindness must watch for me This side the ground. The late year lies down the north. All is healed, all is health. High summer holds the earth. Hearts all whole. Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring faralone Of shadows on the stars. The poem comes from a book by James Agee entitled "Permit Me Voyage," published in  1934 by Yale University Press -- Listen to this episode and more at www.thelifeshiftpodcast.com/follow Support the show on Patreon for ad-free and early-release episodes: www.patreon.com/thelifeshiftpodcast Subscribe to the newsletter for updates and reflections: Newsletter Sign-up Follow on social media: @thelifeshiftpodcast

While studying in Italy, Amanda Knox and her boyfriend are arrested for the brutal murder of her British roommate. Although they convicted another man for killing Meredith Kercher, authorities also try Knox - relying on a coerced confession and compromised DNA evidence. She finds herself cartooned and slut-shamed in a Kafkaesque legal system. Despite an eventual acquittal, Knox remains vilified in the tabloids and pursued by prosecutors. Unable to fully clear her name and restart her life in America, she returns to Italy to confront the man who refuses to believe her innocence.Hulu's dramatic series “The Twisted Tale of Amanda Knox” stars Grace Van Patten. Co-written by Knox and told largely from her point of view, the series recounts the many turns in the sensational case. It depicts its protagonist as powerless to control the events around her and her quest to reclaim her own narrative. OUR SPOILER-FREE REVIEWS OF "THE TWISTED TALE OF AMANDA KNOX" BEGIN IN THE FINAL 13 MINUTES OF THE EPISODE.In Crime of the Week: horse collar. Click here to donate to Kevin's Walk-a-Mile in Their Shoes event to benefit NH's Thrive Survivor Support Center.For exclusive podcasts and more, sign up at Patreon.Sign up for our newsletter at crimewriterson.com. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Preview: Keir Starmer faces immense political problems, unable to solve the exodus of Labour voters to Nigel Farage's Reform Party. Voters are frustrated with immigration and Labour's leftward drift on cultural issues, like trans issues. Though Starmer attempts tougher citizenship tests and restrictions, this effort divides the Labour Party. Those voting Reform have lost faith in Labour. 1930 PARLIAMENT KITCHEN

SEGMENT: Fires, Vulnerability, and Conservation Status GUEST NAME: Professor Danielle Clode SUMMARY: Professor Danielle Clode explains that intense fires burning the canopy leave koalas vulnerable, unable to escape. Frequent, severe blazes combined with fragmentation increase the risk of local extinction. 1936 SOUTH AUSTRALIA

HEADLINE: China's Deflationary Cycle: A Consequence of Overproduction and Centralized Control GUEST NAME: Anne Stevenson-Yang SUMMARY: China is mired in a fearful deflationary cycle driven by chronic overproduction and a government unable to shift from supply-side investment to stimulating consumption, perpetuating a "race to the bottom" under CCP leadership. China faces widespread deflation, causing consumer uncertainty and stemming from government-backed overproduction. The CCP leadership pours money into factories to meet GDP targets, despite overbuilt infrastructure and property. This "involution," or economy eating itself, continues due to a lack of innovative solutions and reluctance to cede economic control. 1940 MAO