We wandered down to the flight line to watch the festivities as they progressed. It was nearly an hour and twenty minutes before we had everything. I never expected them to be able to provide it in only five minutes especially since not all of their daytime personnel had even gone to chow much less reported to the flight line or their supplies depot, but it gave me the opportunity to scowl and look around every few minutes causing them some increased anxiety and effort.

My usual Friday routine goes something like, text at lunch ‘you fancy going out tonight?’ my reply ‘OK you choose’ the reply usually says ‘’Mine for 7.30’

Authors note-This is a rewrite of one of the very first stories I posted here. I’ve always liked it, but I always felt I could do it better. I hope I have, at least a lttle, without ruining it.

Jesse sat in his antique rocking chair, the one that his Grandfather made for his Grandmother when she had nursed his father by the fireplace. There was a fire in the old stone fireplace, and Jesse relaxed under a blanket, watching the snow storm outside. The snow and the comfortable warmth soon had him drifting off on a nice Sunday afternoon nap.

The Story Starts Here
Once again I can hear the church bells ringing in the distance; I walked onwards through the village heading for I don't know where.
The service had started by the time I reached the church so I paused for a while to listen to the singing, while pleasant to listen to the choir the mixed congregation was different, although I had to admit they tried their best.

When we arrived, a welcoming committee was there waiting for us. It was getting late in the evening so we were billeted for the night, fed and generally made as welcome as they could provide for. I think what they were doing was a little like what you would do if you suddenly had to live with a loose cobra for a day — give it everything it wants then stand back, hope it’s happy and that you don’t wake up in the morning sharing your bed with it.

Absinthe, Opium and Honor…Chapters 34 & 35.

Chapter 34

I feel amazing…some people wouldn’t…sore ribs, finger bruises from where Jax has held onto me as he was pumping me so hard…my breasts achy from the same and the bouncing and the sweet feeling lingering of his big black cock inside of me.

I love the feeling of my torn stockings, my garter belts…and just that…no corset, no panties or bra…I slip on my apron smiling and start to cook supper.

Thorvald and Olaf Gundarson are sentenced to three years as outlaws by the medieval parliament of Iceland, and any man can kill them. They seek the help of a wizard, but the help they get is hardly what they expected.