Slanderous! Simply not true. We are not lecherous bastards!
(My parents were married when I was born.
)Now, what's going on here? Looks like a plot twist.
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
The Olympic Crux
- Thread starter thehangingtree
- Start date
(My parents were married when I was born.)Now, what's going on here? Looks like a plot twist.
I have never done such a thing... too often...Slanderous! Simply not true. We are not lecherous bastards!
Now, what's going on here? Looks like a plot twist.
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
What a day, first I was called treacherous by Porzia, now I'm a lecherous bastard. You just can't win around here
It is a tough house... Sorry about the 'bastard' part...What a day, first I was called treacherous by Porzia, now I'm a lecherous bastard. You just can't win around here
(not much)
To my surprise he has Riesling, my favorite and in my brand already chilled. I wave the bottle at him and ask “Do you mind if open this one Mr. Tree?”
That part really was a surprise!
Damn, he is a cantankerous old bastard! I figure I can soften him up with my ‘charms’ and lean over a barrel he must use a table… or maybe by smell of the barrel he buys his Seagram’s in bulk… and display my cleavage ...
This has usually worked with him in the past ...
“If you get selected for the Crux Games how the fuck are you going to hide your tits and cunt when you are nailed to a cross in the Coliseum?” He asks as lights a cigarette while I step out of the skirt.
Got to admit he has a point there.
I ask “Did you really crucify a hundred women there?”
“Even more depending of the year of slave rebellions” he replies. He doesn’t seem to give a damn they died there.
He really does ... he just won't admit it
NICE JOB ON THE DIALOGUE TREE ... I ALMOST THOUGHT I HAD WRITTEN MY OWN PART IN THIS ONE. NOW CAN I HAVE ANOTHER GLASS OF WINE, PLEASE?
That part really was a surprise!Damn, he is a cantankerous old bastard! I figure I can soften him up with my ‘charms’ and lean over a barrel he must use a table… or maybe by smell of the barrel he buys his Seagram’s in bulk… and display my cleavage ...
This has usually worked with him in the past ...
“If you get selected for the Crux Games how the fuck are you going to hide your tits and cunt when you are nailed to a cross in the Coliseum?” He asks as lights a cigarette while I step out of the skirt.
Got to admit he has a point there.
I ask “Did you really crucify a hundred women there?”
“Even more depending of the year of slave rebellions” he replies. He doesn’t seem to give a damn they died there.
He really does ... he just won't admit it
NICE JOB ON THE DIALOGUE TREE ... I ALMOST THOUGHT I HAD WRITTEN MY OWN PART IN THIS ONE. NOW CAN I HAVE ANOTHER GLASS OF WINE, PLEASE?
To my surprise he has Riesling, my favorite and in my brand already chilled. I wave the bottle at him and ask “Do you mind if open this one Mr. Tree?”
View attachment 379516 That part really was a surprise!
Damn, he is a cantankerous old bastard! I figure I can soften him up with my ‘charms’ and lean over a barrel he must use a table… or maybe by smell of the barrel he buys his Seagram’s in bulk… and display my cleavage ...
This has usually worked with him in the past ...
“If you get selected for the Crux Games how the fuck are you going to hide your tits and cunt when you are nailed to a cross in the Coliseum?” He asks as lights a cigarette while I step out of the skirt.
Got to admit he has a point there.
I ask “Did you really crucify a hundred women there?”
“Even more depending of the year of slave rebellions” he replies. He doesn’t seem to give a damn they died there.
He really does ... he just won't admit it
View attachment 379527 NICE JOB ON THE DIALOGUE TREE ... I ALMOST THOUGHT I HAD WRITTEN MY OWN PART IN THIS ONE. NOW CAN I HAVE ANOTHER GLASS OF WINE, PLEASE?
Thank you. Would you like a Madame Wu with it?
This guy might be old but he has more moves than an MTV video...
And given the implications of this statement, hopefully better ratings.
On a scale of 1 to 10? .... Hmmmmm ... Nope, better not go there ... I do still want hints take me on that promised tour of the infamous "Hill of 100 Crosses". Better not cross him now
Slanderous! Simply not true. We are not lecherous bastards!
Now, what's going on here? Looks like a plot twist.
What a day, first I was called treacherous by Porzia, now I'm a lecherous bastard. You just can't win around here
When Tree calls you a "bastard", that's a compliment.
You're right Barb. It was an excellent chapter!To my surprise he has Riesling, my favorite and in my brand already chilled. I wave the bottle at him and ask “Do you mind if open this one Mr. Tree?”
View attachment 379516 That part really was a surprise!
Damn, he is a cantankerous old bastard! I figure I can soften him up with my ‘charms’ and lean over a barrel he must use a table… or maybe by smell of the barrel he buys his Seagram’s in bulk… and display my cleavage ...
This has usually worked with him in the past ...
“If you get selected for the Crux Games how the fuck are you going to hide your tits and cunt when you are nailed to a cross in the Coliseum?” He asks as lights a cigarette while I step out of the skirt.
Got to admit he has a point there.
I ask “Did you really crucify a hundred women there?”
“Even more depending of the year of slave rebellions” he replies. He doesn’t seem to give a damn they died there.
He really does ... he just won't admit it
View attachment 379527 NICE JOB ON THE DIALOGUE TREE ... I ALMOST THOUGHT I HAD WRITTEN MY OWN PART IN THIS ONE. NOW CAN I HAVE ANOTHER GLASS OF WINE, PLEASE?
When Tree calls you a "bastard", that's a compliment.
Um, thank you I think
Now, at least we know that the crosses are quality Australian material, with French wood I presume?
And we know that our girl is training like a demon.
And, experience must count for something, right?
What is there to worry about?
A couple of wildcard entries, maybe. Haven't heard much from Tash or Thess so far!
Oh, don't forget to practice for the opening ceremony
Last edited:
sympazero2
Cruciformae Studiosus
An inside tip alerted me to the secret rehearsals
now taking place at an undisclosed location.
At great risk to my personal safety I managed to grab these
shots and just make it back to my escape helicopter.
The Lighting of the Flame
The Winners (Survivors) await their Medals
And...the most difficult shot to obtain:
The Opening Ceremonies Tribute to the new Demonstration Event
CRUX!
(You're Welcome!)
now taking place at an undisclosed location.
At great risk to my personal safety I managed to grab these
shots and just make it back to my escape helicopter.
The Lighting of the Flame
The Winners (Survivors) await their Medals
And...the most difficult shot to obtain:
The Opening Ceremonies Tribute to the new Demonstration Event
CRUX!
(You're Welcome!)
Fox-on-Cross
Great-Cruxinquisitor
Which composer to ask for the openingstune?
Richard Strauß was it for the Summer Olympics Berlin 1936. Dead is John Cage but he seems me the best choice to extract elements of his œuvre.
Richard Strauß was it for the Summer Olympics Berlin 1936. Dead is John Cage but he seems me the best choice to extract elements of his œuvre.
Um, thank you I think
Now, at least we know that the crosses are quality Australian material, with French wood I presume?
And we know that our girl is training like a demon.
View attachment 379934
And, experience must count for something, right?
What is there to worry about?
A couple of wildcard entries, maybe. Haven't heard much from Tash or Thess so far!
Oh, don't forget to practice for the opening ceremony
View attachment 379991
That must be me on the right, but who is the girl in the top spot?
Love those specially commissioned Victoria's Secret loin cloths ... what other companies have lined up to be official sponsors, besides Nailus Martyrs?
I was hoping that he would take me on that tour of the fabled "Hill of 100", but he didn't seem to be moving. Did he expect some kind of favor first? Is that why he had me take off my clothes?
Well maybe, I thought, if I get him well oiled and lubricated he'll get off his duff. So I asked him if it would be alright if I opened another bottle of his fine imported white. He waved his hand nonchalantly, so I poured myself another and settled on the sofa, tucking my feet up under me and trying my best to look seductive, which isn't all that hard when you are nude.
Abruptly, he stood up and said it was time to "do it". I rose and headed for the bedroom. But he stopped me, saying "No ... Outside!"
I said I preferred sheets to lying in the grass.
He said, "No, sweetie ... Not that .. It's time for a tour of the hill." He turned, put on his hat and walked out the door.
Feeling sheepish (and maybe a little disappointed) I called after him, "shouldn't I get dressed first?"
"What for?" he replied.
I hurried after him into the gloomy darkness.
Thank god for the glow of his Marlboro!
A half hour later we were there, just as the moon came out from behind a cloud to cast its silvery light on the "Hill". I shivered. Not because it was cold out (this was, after all, Missouri in June), but because the place looked so creepy.
It was much larger than I expected. I should have known better. A hill capable of holding 100 crosses had to be sizable. But what was chilling was not its size, or even the surreal lighting, but the veritable forest of crosses ... so many of them ... standing in mute witness of the terrible suffering of so many.
He and I walked amongst them. He told me of the hundreds and hundreds of rebel slaves who had perished nailed to those crosses over the course of three failed rebellions. I paused to examine the dark blood stains that told of their terrible suffering, and to run my hand over the splinters and holes left by nails cruelly driven through delicate feminine wrists and feet. We observed the pits into which heaps of corpses were carelessly thrown. I stared in anxious disbelief at the hundreds of bleached bones lying about on the ground, and took in the empty spectator stands and concession booths standing silently off to one side.
"I've seen enough," I told him, "can we go back to the Tree House now. I think I need another glass of wine."
For the first time since I started this project I began to have misgivings about my decision to compete in the coming women's crucifixion event at the 2024 Olympics. But I have little choice. I am committed to see this through, and besides the tight-fisted university I work for would be royally pissed if I didn't go through with it after granting me money and leave.
So, on with my reason for coming here in the first place. I want to pump this guy for every last useful tidbit of information he can share with me about how to stage a "winning" crucifixion. It's not just about performance, you know. Training is well and good. But technique matters too. And this guy is a "master", or so I am told.
Back safely in the Tree House, I pour myself that much needed glass, take a seat on the big leather sofa, pull my knees up under my chin, and ...while smiling provocatively at him .. pat the cushion next to me and purr in my throaty, sexiest voice, "Come here big boy."
Well maybe, I thought, if I get him well oiled and lubricated he'll get off his duff. So I asked him if it would be alright if I opened another bottle of his fine imported white. He waved his hand nonchalantly, so I poured myself another and settled on the sofa, tucking my feet up under me and trying my best to look seductive, which isn't all that hard when you are nude.
Abruptly, he stood up and said it was time to "do it". I rose and headed for the bedroom. But he stopped me, saying "No ... Outside!"
I said I preferred sheets to lying in the grass.
He said, "No, sweetie ... Not that .. It's time for a tour of the hill." He turned, put on his hat and walked out the door.
Feeling sheepish (and maybe a little disappointed) I called after him, "shouldn't I get dressed first?"
"What for?" he replied.
I hurried after him into the gloomy darkness.
Thank god for the glow of his Marlboro!
A half hour later we were there, just as the moon came out from behind a cloud to cast its silvery light on the "Hill". I shivered. Not because it was cold out (this was, after all, Missouri in June), but because the place looked so creepy.
It was much larger than I expected. I should have known better. A hill capable of holding 100 crosses had to be sizable. But what was chilling was not its size, or even the surreal lighting, but the veritable forest of crosses ... so many of them ... standing in mute witness of the terrible suffering of so many.
He and I walked amongst them. He told me of the hundreds and hundreds of rebel slaves who had perished nailed to those crosses over the course of three failed rebellions. I paused to examine the dark blood stains that told of their terrible suffering, and to run my hand over the splinters and holes left by nails cruelly driven through delicate feminine wrists and feet. We observed the pits into which heaps of corpses were carelessly thrown. I stared in anxious disbelief at the hundreds of bleached bones lying about on the ground, and took in the empty spectator stands and concession booths standing silently off to one side.
"I've seen enough," I told him, "can we go back to the Tree House now. I think I need another glass of wine."
For the first time since I started this project I began to have misgivings about my decision to compete in the coming women's crucifixion event at the 2024 Olympics. But I have little choice. I am committed to see this through, and besides the tight-fisted university I work for would be royally pissed if I didn't go through with it after granting me money and leave.
So, on with my reason for coming here in the first place. I want to pump this guy for every last useful tidbit of information he can share with me about how to stage a "winning" crucifixion. It's not just about performance, you know. Training is well and good. But technique matters too. And this guy is a "master", or so I am told.
Back safely in the Tree House, I pour myself that much needed glass, take a seat on the big leather sofa, pull my knees up under my chin, and ...while smiling provocatively at him .. pat the cushion next to me and purr in my throaty, sexiest voice, "Come here big boy."
Last edited:
A consolation prize for the top five non-qualifiers for the main event...
...it's an exhibition for the 2028 Olympics...
...it's an exhibition for the 2028 Olympics...
OH MY! what a good post! Tree's two fingers are torturing the keyboard to write his reply!!!
I ain’t going to say what happened next besides Tree might be old but he ain’t dead yet. Afterwards I go back out on the deck and have a smoke. This Barbara Moore follows me a few minutes later after she has ‘freshened up’.
I open my laptop and pull up a picture. Barb says “So you do know how to use one!” I ignore the remark and tell her to look at the screen where a rendering of where the Crux Game will be held.
I explain that the top seed qualifier will carry her cross 900 meters once she does the two laps around the track with the second lap having a detour up the ramp, out the east entry gates and back in again to finish the last half lap. On the field level tier 75 athletes will be crucified. There will be 50 on the 1st tier and 25 on the top tier. I ask her if she knows the significance of the layout. She shrugs and says “I suppose to let the horny bastards get the most opportunity to see my tight little before I am nailed to the cross.”
“Not quite… 900 meters is a bit more than a half mile and by the time those qualified for the top tier get there they will have cover the same distance and elevation change you did walking to and up the Hill of 100 Crosses. You seemed a bit winded when we got there. Imagine having to do that in an hour dragging a 50 kg cross and by the time you get to the top you will be passing other athletes already crucified. You found the hill somewhat ominous, no? Imagine carrying you cross before 100,000 screaming spectators that are there just to see you suffer on the cross. And, by the way, Sir Despard Wragg has the concession rights on the rotten fruit stands that will line the route.”
“Tell me more about the actual crucifixion” Barb says.
“In the morning” I reply. “Get some sleep.”
Tree
I open my laptop and pull up a picture. Barb says “So you do know how to use one!” I ignore the remark and tell her to look at the screen where a rendering of where the Crux Game will be held.
I explain that the top seed qualifier will carry her cross 900 meters once she does the two laps around the track with the second lap having a detour up the ramp, out the east entry gates and back in again to finish the last half lap. On the field level tier 75 athletes will be crucified. There will be 50 on the 1st tier and 25 on the top tier. I ask her if she knows the significance of the layout. She shrugs and says “I suppose to let the horny bastards get the most opportunity to see my tight little before I am nailed to the cross.”
“Not quite… 900 meters is a bit more than a half mile and by the time those qualified for the top tier get there they will have cover the same distance and elevation change you did walking to and up the Hill of 100 Crosses. You seemed a bit winded when we got there. Imagine having to do that in an hour dragging a 50 kg cross and by the time you get to the top you will be passing other athletes already crucified. You found the hill somewhat ominous, no? Imagine carrying you cross before 100,000 screaming spectators that are there just to see you suffer on the cross. And, by the way, Sir Despard Wragg has the concession rights on the rotten fruit stands that will line the route.”
“Tell me more about the actual crucifixion” Barb says.
“In the morning” I reply. “Get some sleep.”
Tree
I ain’t going to say what happened next besides Tree might be old but he ain’t dead yet. Afterwards I go back out on the deck and have a smoke. This Barbara Moore follows me a few minutes later after she has ‘freshened up’.
Meaning I took a shower ... and looked for my clothing ... but they were missing ... someone took everything but my kinis! Wonder who?
I open my laptop and pull up a picture. Barb says “So you do know how to use one!”
Giggle snort ... couldn't resist that line.
I ignore the remark and tell her to look at the screen where a rendering of where the Crux Game will be held.
You made that all by yourself? Wow!
I explain that the top seed qualifier
that would be me of course
will carry her cross 900 meters once she does the two laps around the track with the second lap having a detour up the ramp, out the east entry gates and back in again to finish the last half lap. On the field level tier 75 athletes will be crucified. There will be 50 on the 1st tier and 25 on the top tier. I ask her if she knows the significance of the layout.
Is this a trick question?
She shrugs and says “I suppose to let the horny bastards get the most opportunity to see my tight little before I am nailed to the cross.”
Seems a reasonable guess
“Not quite… 900 meters is a bit more than a half mile and by the time those qualified for the top tier get there they will have cover the same distance and elevation change you did walking to and up the Hill of 100 Crosses. You seemed a bit winded when we got there. Imagine having to do that in an hour dragging a 50 kg cross and by the time you get to the top you will be passing other athletes already crucified. You found the hill somewhat ominous, no? Imagine carrying you cross before 100,000 screaming spectators that are there just to see you suffer on the cross.
Now just a darn minute. That cross will weigh almost as much as I do! I only weigh 54 kg, and your stupid cross is 50 kg. Memo to my team: Wragg will have to whip me the whole way, especially on the inclines.
And, by the way, Sir Despard Wragg has the concession rights on the rotten fruit stands that will line the route.”
Really? I would have thought RR would have cornered that!
“Tell me more about the actual crucifixion” Barb says.
“In the morning” I reply. “Get some sleep.”
Why do I always have to wait
Meaning I took a shower ... and looked for my clothing ... but they were missing ... someone took everything but my kinis! Wonder who?
I open my laptop and pull up a picture. Barb says “So you do know how to use one!”
Giggle snort ... couldn't resist that line.
I ignore the remark and tell her to look at the screen where a rendering of where the Crux Game will be held.
You made that all by yourself? Wow!
I explain that the top seed qualifier
that would be me of course
will carry her cross 900 meters once she does the two laps around the track with the second lap having a detour up the ramp, out the east entry gates and back in again to finish the last half lap. On the field level tier 75 athletes will be crucified. There will be 50 on the 1st tier and 25 on the top tier. I ask her if she knows the significance of the layout.
Is this a trick question?
She shrugs and says “I suppose to let the horny bastards get the most opportunity to see my tight little before I am nailed to the cross.”
Seems a reasonable guess
“Not quite… 900 meters is a bit more than a half mile and by the time those qualified for the top tier get there they will have cover the same distance and elevation change you did walking to and up the Hill of 100 Crosses. You seemed a bit winded when we got there. Imagine having to do that in an hour dragging a 50 kg cross and by the time you get to the top you will be passing other athletes already crucified. You found the hill somewhat ominous, no? Imagine carrying you cross before 100,000 screaming spectators that are there just to see you suffer on the cross.
Now just a darn minute. That cross will weigh almost as much as I do! I only weigh 54 kg, and your stupid cross is 50 kg. Memo to my team: Wragg will have to whip me the whole way, especially on the inclines.
And, by the way, Sir Despard Wragg has the concession rights on the rotten fruit stands that will line the route.”
Really? I would have thought RR would have cornered that!
“Tell me more about the actual crucifixion” Barb says.
“In the morning” I reply. “Get some sleep.”
Why do I always have to wait
RR has the nut concession and you have to wait because Tree is a slow typist...I ain’t going to say what happened next besides Tree might be old but he ain’t dead yet. Afterwards I go back out on the deck and have a smoke. This Barbara Moore follows me a few minutes later after she has ‘freshened up’.
Meaning I took a shower ... and looked for my clothing ... but they were missing ... someone took everything but my kinis! Wonder who?
I open my laptop and pull up a picture. Barb says “So you do know how to use one!”
Giggle snort ... couldn't resist that line.
I ignore the remark and tell her to look at the screen where a rendering of where the Crux Game will be held.
You made that all by yourself? Wow!
I explain that the top seed qualifier
that would be me of course
will carry her cross 900 meters once she does the two laps around the track with the second lap having a detour up the ramp, out the east entry gates and back in again to finish the last half lap. On the field level tier 75 athletes will be crucified. There will be 50 on the 1st tier and 25 on the top tier. I ask her if she knows the significance of the layout.
Is this a trick question?
She shrugs and says “I suppose to let the horny bastards get the most opportunity to see my tight little before I am nailed to the cross.”
Seems a reasonable guess
“Not quite… 900 meters is a bit more than a half mile and by the time those qualified for the top tier get there they will have cover the same distance and elevation change you did walking to and up the Hill of 100 Crosses. You seemed a bit winded when we got there. Imagine having to do that in an hour dragging a 50 kg cross and by the time you get to the top you will be passing other athletes already crucified. You found the hill somewhat ominous, no? Imagine carrying you cross before 100,000 screaming spectators that are there just to see you suffer on the cross.
Now just a darn minute. That cross will weigh almost as much as I do! I only weigh 54 kg, and your stupid cross is 50 kg. Memo to my team: Wragg will have to whip me the whole way, especially on the inclines.
And, by the way, Sir Despard Wragg has the concession rights on the rotten fruit stands that will line the route.”
Really? I would have thought RR would have cornered that!
“Tell me more about the actual crucifixion” Barb says.
“In the morning” I reply. “Get some sleep.”
Why do I always have to wait