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Expand the sub menu Video. Expand the sub menu Digital. Expand the sub menu Theater. Expand the sub menu VIP. Expand the sub menu More Coverage. Expand the sub menu More Variety. Switch edition between U. Asia Global. To help keep your account secure, please log-in again. You are no longer onsite at your organization. Please log in. He strains to burst the knots with his hands, his sacred headband drenched in blood and dark venom, while he sends terrible shouts up to the heavens, like the bellowing of a bull that has fled wounded, from the altar, shaking the Her Lips Were Wet With Venom (Continued) axe from its neck.
All prepare themselves for the work and they set up wheels allowing movement under its feet, and stretch hemp ropes round its neck. That engine of fate mounts our walls pregnant with armed men.
Around it boys, and virgin girls, sing sacred songs, and delight in touching their hands to the ropes: Up it glides and rolls threateningly into the midst of the city.
O my country, O Ilium house of the gods, and you, Trojan walls famous in war! Four times it sticks at the threshold of the gates, and four times the weapons clash in its belly: yet we press on regardless, blind with frenzy, and site the accursed creature on top of our sacred citadel.
It was the hour when first sleep begins for weary mortals, and steals over them as the sweetest gift of the gods. See, in dream, before my eyes, Hector seemed to stand there, saddest of all and pouring out great tears, torn by the chariot, as once he was, black with bloody dust, and his swollen feet pierced by the thongs.
Ah, how he looked! His beard was ragged, his hair matted with blood, bearing those many wounds he received dragged around the walls of his city. What shore do you come from Hector, the long-awaited? Weary from the many troubles of our people and our city I see you, oh, after the death of so many of your kin! What shameful events have marred that clear face? And why do I see these wounds? Son of the goddess, fly, tear yourself from the flames. The enemy has taken the walls: Troy falls from her high place.
Enough has been given to Priam and your country: if Pergama could be saved by any hand, it would have been saved by this. Troy entrusts her sacred relics and household gods to you: take them as friends of your fate, seek mighty walls for them, those you will found at last when you have wandered the seas.
I shake off sleep, and climb to the highest roof-top, and stand there with ears strained: as when fire attacks a wheat-field when the south-wind rages, or the rushing torrent from a mountain stream covers the fields, drowns the ripe crops, the labour of oxen, and brings down the trees headlong, and the dazed shepherd, unaware, hears the echo from a high rocky peak. Now the truth is obvious, and the Greek plot revealed. Then the clamour of men and the blare of trumpets rises.
Frantically I seize weapons: not because there is much use for weapons, but my spirit burns to gather men for battle and race to the citadel with my friends: madness and anger hurl my mind headlong, and I think it beautiful to die fighting. Troy is past, Ilium is past, and the great glory of the Trojans: Jupiter carries all to Argos: the Greeks are lords of the burning city.
The horse, standing high on the ramparts, pours out warriors, and Sinon the conqueror exultantly stirs the flames. Others are at the wide-open gates, as many thousands as ever came from great Mycenae: more have blocked the narrow streets with hostile weapons: a line of standing steel with naked flickering blades is ready for the slaughter: barely the first few guards at the gates attempt to fight, and they resist in blind conflict. All the gods by whom this empire was supported have departed, leaving behind their temples and their altars: you aid a burning city: let us die and rush into battle.
The beaten have one refuge, to have no hope of refuge. Then, like ravaging wolves in a dark mist, driven blindly by the cruel rage of their bellies, leaving their young waiting with thirsty jaws, we pass through our enemies, to certain death, and make our way to the heart of the city: dark night envelops us in deep shadow. Who could tell of that destruction in words, or equal our pain with tears? The ancient city falls, she who ruled for so many years: crowds of dead bodies lie here and there in the streets, among the houses, and on the sacred thresholds of the gods.
Nor is it Trojans alone who pay the penalty with their blood: courage returns at times to the hearts of the defeated and the Greek conquerors die. Cruel mourning is everywhere, everywhere there is panic, and many a form of death. What sluggishness makes you delay so?
The others are raping and plundering burning Troy: are you only now arriving from the tall ships? He was stunned, drew back, and stifled his voice. Like a man who unexpectedly treads on a snake in rough briars, as he strides over the ground, and shrinks back in sudden fear as it rears in anger and swells its dark-green neck, so Androgeos, shuddering at the sight of us, drew back.
We charge forward and surround them closely with weapons, and ignorant of the place, seized by terror, as they are, we slaughter them wholesale. Fortune favours our first efforts. Ripheus does likewise, Dymas too, and all Her Lips Were Wet With Venom (Continued) warriors delight in it.
Each man arms himself with the fresh spoils. We pass on mingling with the Greeks, with gods that are not our known, and clash, in many an armed encounter, in the blind night, and we send many a Greek down to Orcus. Some scatter to the ships, and run for safer shores, some, in humiliated terror, climb the vast horse again and hide in the womb they know.
Coroebus could not stand the sight, maddened in mind, and hurled himself among the ranks, seeking death. It should go without saying that some of the things that happen in my stories are completely abhorrent, and I do not condone those things, or wish for them to be inflicted upon any real person, male or female.
Well, not without actual consent anyway. I usually write from the protagonist's perspective, imagining those things happening to me rather than inflicting them on someone else. I'm from Australia so I usually use British English spelling.
I write mostly for me, but thank you to all of the wonderful people who comment and tell me what they liked or didn't like or just to point out an error.
That stuff encrouages me to keep going, and also helps me improve. Eddie, put away the cards, and let's talk about the options. Let's have a proper look at this hot looking woman. Why don't you Her Lips Were Wet With Venom (Continued) off that skirt, young lady I think we'd all love to see more of you,' and his hand continued to caress her sexy bottom and Joey waited.
Jake was trying to sound masculine. So you just stay quiet, and we leave here at 10pm. One, I don't get Eddie and Buck to give you a good hiding and, Two, I might just cancel the debt you owe us! His wife almost shouted at him. Her Lips Were Wet With Venom (Continued) man's right It's going to be OK It's 8.
You're leaving at 10, and you're going to cancel that debt, aren't you? Now, about that skirt? Fran took a deep breath, and slowly began to unzip the short skirt.
Jake sat nervously in the corner, sipping a beer, and watched his wife submit to the first order from the three men. Buck, Eddie and the boss man relaxed back in their chairs as slowly the skirt slid to the floor to reveal Fran's wonderful legs and her stunning ass in little, tight panties. This time, it caressed up to her panties and meandered across her delectable ass and then under and between her legs and onto the front of the thin material.
His fingers began to slide up and down the front of the panties, right on Fran's pussy lips underneath. He could feel the wet lips, he could feel them open, and heard a little gasp from the sexy wife.
Jake went to get up from his chair but Eddie quickly rose and moved towards the angry husband threateningly! Jake sat back down, knowing there was virtually nothing he could do. They could all see Joey's hand sliding up and down on Fran's pussy and then his fingers eased the material aside and he was playing in the soft pubic hairs.
Open your thighs some more, baby! Her thighs slowly inched apart as she stood before the boss man, feeling every stroke of his podgy fingers. She had known no other touch since her wedding day except that of her husband.
She had always been obedient and submissive to him, even if her mind had often thought of unspoken fantasies, just like millions of other women. Although the situation she was now in with Jake was horrendous and frightening, Fran silently told herself that this was the only way.
She couldn't argue with Joey or Her Lips Were Wet With Venom (Continued) friends, and right now, with gentle touches sliding seductively inside her panties, she didn't want to. Jake had brought all this on himself with his stupid gambling! They had argued on numerous occasions previously about the way he lost money at the casino, and now they had finally reached the point of no return.
If he had to sit in the corner while his wife was at the mercy of three leering men, Fran thought that at least it might finally bring Jake to his fuckin' senses. She sighed again as Joey eased his finger right down between her sodden cunt lips. Jake, sweating in his seat, and sipping furiously on his beer, knew that he was powerless to alter proceedings. He was outnumbered, three to one, and he knew that further protest was futile.
He had always controlled Fran in her behaviour, particularly where sex was concerned, but now another man was playing with his wife. He had often made Fran wear sexy clothes for him, she would suck his cock when he wanted, and she would even dress in sexy clothes so that Jake could watch other men admire and lust over her when they went to a bar.
Knowing that other men were looking at his wife, enjoying her firm breasts and her shapely legs in a short dress, always gave Jake a thrill and, like a lot of men, he often fantasised about watching his wife with another man. But now He was having to watch his wife at the hands of a little, podgy guy and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry!
You Dont Always - Peter Crawford - Six Strings...Keep Me Sane (CD, Album), To Love And Be Loved - Frank Sinatra - All The Way (Vinyl, LP), Oh Lonesome Me - Paul Anka - Paul Anka Live ! (Vinyl, LP, Album), Amahl! Amahl! - Gian Carlo Menotti - Amahl And The Night Visitors (Vinyl, LP), Benched Down/70s Sixties - Various - Street To Street - A Liverpool Album (Vinyl, LP), Well Known Stranger - Alvarius B. - Baroque Primitiva (CD, Album), Smile Again, Ξημερώνει - Various - Μια Φορά Θυμάμαι- Τραγούδια Από Το Νέο Κύμα (CD), Rodney Cordner - We Stand Forgiven (Vinyl, LP, Album), Dan Daniell - 1001 Nacht (CD), Saving Dreams, Laß Doch Den Sonnenschein - Various - 10 Jahre Schlagerparade 1961-1970 (Vinyl, LP)