windar
Teller of Tales
Tonight begins Chanukah, the eight day Festival of Lights, commemorating the victory of the Maccabees (a good Scottish name) over the Seleucid Greek occupiers of Judea in 166 BCE. The story goes that after the occupiers were ejected, the Jews wanted to reconsecrate the Temple but could only find enough consecrated oil to burn for one day; however, a miracle occurred and it lasted for eight days instead (sort of like if a single Seagrams bottle could last Tree a whole week). To commemorate this event, Jews light the menorah, a candelabra that holds 8 candles, plus one, the shamash, or helper, which is used to light the others.
Now, who better to celebrate this holiday with, than our two favorite kinky detectives (retired), Stan Goldman and Barbara Moore? It's a two part story (not eight, thankfully) with a few illustrations by Madiosi in the second part. Here goes nothing....
“So, Stan, what do you want for Chanukah?” Barb asked, as she sat down next to him on the sofa, posing her glass of Riesling on the end table.
He turned to look at her, then picked up the remote and lowered the volume. He’d seen this Seinfeld at least 20 times before-the one where Kramer and Newman load up Newman’s mail truck to take empty bottles and cans to Michigan to cash in on the 10 cent deposit there, rather than accept New York’s paltry 5 cents. “I didn’t think you knew about Chanukah, Moore.”
Barb rolled her eyes. “Do you listen to anything I say?”
“Uh, sure I do, Barb. I treasure every word that passes from your beautiful lips.”
“Cut the crap, Goldman! You know that I was a Community Relations Officer back when I was on the Minneapolis PD. I celebrated Chanukah, Eid, Lunar New Year, Diwali, Kwanzaa, you name it. So if I want to give my man the best Chanukah of his life, he’d be smart to sit up and take notice.”
Stan noticed that he was slumped down into the couch. He sat up. “Honestly, Barb,” he said. “I have everything a man could want-a nice house, money in the bank, decent health for a guy my age.” He noticed that Barb was glaring at him. “And, of course, the best girlfriend anyone could dream of.”
“Don’t you ever forget that, Stan,” Barb warned him.
Stan leaned over and kissed Barb. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he assured her.
“Still,” she said after they broke off smooching, “I’d like to give you something special. Because you’re a special guy and you’ve risked your life a few times to help me out of some trouble that I got myself into.”
“You can say that again,” Stan said, grinning at her.
“OK. You’re a special guy who…” Barb repeated. “Seriously, though, what would you like?”
Stan looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Let me think about that a bit, OK? I appreciate the offer and I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
“OK, Stan,” Barb replied. “Let me know when you come up with an idea. Otherwise, I could always get you a couple of ties, as long as you promise to throw out a few of those ratty donut-stained old ones.”
“I don’t wear ties much anymore, Barb. I’m retired. And the ratty old ones are just fine for tying you to the bed.”
“But, you know,” Stan continued, looking serious now. “If we’re going to celebrate Chanukah, we need a menorah.”
“You mean you don’t have one, Stan?” Barb asked, feigning shock.
“I did,” he replied, “But it seems to have disappeared when we moved up here from the City.”
“Well you better go get one. They probably have some at the gift store down at the Mall. Or you could find one on line, I’m sure,” Barb said. As she was talking, Barb noticed a big, evil grin breaking out on Stan’s face. He seemed to be counting in his head, extending first one finger, then the next. “You need to take off your shoes and socks to help you count, Stan?” Barb asked.
“Nope,” he replied. “I’m fine. I just got an idea for a menorah and for the gift I want all wrapped up in one cute little package,” he said.
“I’m not sure I should ask. In fact, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t, but what is it?”
Stan just smiled enigmatically and stood. “You’ll find out. Let’s go downstairs, sweet cheeks.”
“No way, Goldman,” Barb protested. “Not until you tell me exactly what is in that evil so-called mind of yours.”
“Come on, Barb. Have a little faith in me. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
For some reason, Barb broke into peals of laughter. Stan glared at her, pretending to be annoyed. “Oh, you think this is funny, do you? That’ll cost you extra, Moore. Now downstairs, on the double. You offered me a Chanukah gift and I’m taking you up on your offer.”
“Me and my big mouth,” Barb muttered, as she stood and walked towards the stairs that led to the basement, Stan following close behind.
Once down in their basement playroom, Stan wasted little time. “You know the drill, Moore.” She pulled her shirt over her head, then reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it fall to the ground.
She winked at Stan and swiveled her hips provocatively, making her boobs bounce like twin balloons. Stan’s eyes were fixed on them, following their every sway and dip. “You like what you see?” Barb said, teasingly.
“Of course, I do,” Stan replied.
“Good,” Barb said, breaking off her dance and bending down to pick up her bra. “Because that’s all you’re getting, Goldman. You haven’t been such a good boy this year.”
Stan frowned. “Nice try, Moore. I’ve been very good. Now lose the rest.”
Barb put her hands on her hips and stood there looking defiant. “Suit yourself, Barb,” Stan said. “A few dozen with the cat will change your mind, I bet.”
“You wouldn’t,” she stated, not looking terribly sure that he wouldn’t.
“Try me,” Stan retorted.
Barb shook her head, but began unbuttoning her jeans. With a few very seductive wiggles of her tight little ass, she soon stood before Stan, naked as the day she was born. “I’m glad you came to your senses, Barb,” he said. “Now be a good girl and hop up on the table.”
Barb stuck her tongue out, but, despite that little show of defiance, climbed up on the table. “On your back,” Stan ordered. Barb arranged herself as directed while Stan went to get some ropes. He tied her hands to the rings set into the table next to her head.
Barb stretched her legs out waiting for Stan to tie her ankles to the lower end of the table. “Nope,” he said. “I want your legs up over your head.”
“You’re kidding, Stan, right? You think I’m Simone Biles?” Barb protested.
“Come on, Barb, you can do it. Here let me help.” Stan grabbed her feet and lifted them so that they were high in the air. Barb’s tight little was lifted right off the table, exposing both her delightful pussy and her rear passage. Quickly, before she could lower her legs, Stan tied her ankles to a chain that hung down from the ceiling.
“Now just hold tight, babe. Don’t go anywhere. I gotta get some things from the kitchen. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Stan Goldman, where are you going?” Barb cried. “If you leave me here we’re done, finished. I’m not kidding. You’ll have to order one of those Japanese blow-up dolls, because who else would have you?”
“Relax, Barb. This will be a great Chanukah present and you’ll like it just as much as I will. I won’t be gone more than a few minutes, OK?” Then he turned and walked up the stairs.
Now, who better to celebrate this holiday with, than our two favorite kinky detectives (retired), Stan Goldman and Barbara Moore? It's a two part story (not eight, thankfully) with a few illustrations by Madiosi in the second part. Here goes nothing....
“So, Stan, what do you want for Chanukah?” Barb asked, as she sat down next to him on the sofa, posing her glass of Riesling on the end table.
He turned to look at her, then picked up the remote and lowered the volume. He’d seen this Seinfeld at least 20 times before-the one where Kramer and Newman load up Newman’s mail truck to take empty bottles and cans to Michigan to cash in on the 10 cent deposit there, rather than accept New York’s paltry 5 cents. “I didn’t think you knew about Chanukah, Moore.”
Barb rolled her eyes. “Do you listen to anything I say?”
“Uh, sure I do, Barb. I treasure every word that passes from your beautiful lips.”
“Cut the crap, Goldman! You know that I was a Community Relations Officer back when I was on the Minneapolis PD. I celebrated Chanukah, Eid, Lunar New Year, Diwali, Kwanzaa, you name it. So if I want to give my man the best Chanukah of his life, he’d be smart to sit up and take notice.”
Stan noticed that he was slumped down into the couch. He sat up. “Honestly, Barb,” he said. “I have everything a man could want-a nice house, money in the bank, decent health for a guy my age.” He noticed that Barb was glaring at him. “And, of course, the best girlfriend anyone could dream of.”
“Don’t you ever forget that, Stan,” Barb warned him.
Stan leaned over and kissed Barb. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he assured her.
“Still,” she said after they broke off smooching, “I’d like to give you something special. Because you’re a special guy and you’ve risked your life a few times to help me out of some trouble that I got myself into.”
“You can say that again,” Stan said, grinning at her.
“OK. You’re a special guy who…” Barb repeated. “Seriously, though, what would you like?”
Stan looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Let me think about that a bit, OK? I appreciate the offer and I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
“OK, Stan,” Barb replied. “Let me know when you come up with an idea. Otherwise, I could always get you a couple of ties, as long as you promise to throw out a few of those ratty donut-stained old ones.”
“I don’t wear ties much anymore, Barb. I’m retired. And the ratty old ones are just fine for tying you to the bed.”
“But, you know,” Stan continued, looking serious now. “If we’re going to celebrate Chanukah, we need a menorah.”
“You mean you don’t have one, Stan?” Barb asked, feigning shock.
“I did,” he replied, “But it seems to have disappeared when we moved up here from the City.”
“Well you better go get one. They probably have some at the gift store down at the Mall. Or you could find one on line, I’m sure,” Barb said. As she was talking, Barb noticed a big, evil grin breaking out on Stan’s face. He seemed to be counting in his head, extending first one finger, then the next. “You need to take off your shoes and socks to help you count, Stan?” Barb asked.
“Nope,” he replied. “I’m fine. I just got an idea for a menorah and for the gift I want all wrapped up in one cute little package,” he said.
“I’m not sure I should ask. In fact, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t, but what is it?”
Stan just smiled enigmatically and stood. “You’ll find out. Let’s go downstairs, sweet cheeks.”
“No way, Goldman,” Barb protested. “Not until you tell me exactly what is in that evil so-called mind of yours.”
“Come on, Barb. Have a little faith in me. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
For some reason, Barb broke into peals of laughter. Stan glared at her, pretending to be annoyed. “Oh, you think this is funny, do you? That’ll cost you extra, Moore. Now downstairs, on the double. You offered me a Chanukah gift and I’m taking you up on your offer.”
“Me and my big mouth,” Barb muttered, as she stood and walked towards the stairs that led to the basement, Stan following close behind.
Once down in their basement playroom, Stan wasted little time. “You know the drill, Moore.” She pulled her shirt over her head, then reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it fall to the ground.
She winked at Stan and swiveled her hips provocatively, making her boobs bounce like twin balloons. Stan’s eyes were fixed on them, following their every sway and dip. “You like what you see?” Barb said, teasingly.
“Of course, I do,” Stan replied.
“Good,” Barb said, breaking off her dance and bending down to pick up her bra. “Because that’s all you’re getting, Goldman. You haven’t been such a good boy this year.”
Stan frowned. “Nice try, Moore. I’ve been very good. Now lose the rest.”
Barb put her hands on her hips and stood there looking defiant. “Suit yourself, Barb,” Stan said. “A few dozen with the cat will change your mind, I bet.”
“You wouldn’t,” she stated, not looking terribly sure that he wouldn’t.
“Try me,” Stan retorted.
Barb shook her head, but began unbuttoning her jeans. With a few very seductive wiggles of her tight little ass, she soon stood before Stan, naked as the day she was born. “I’m glad you came to your senses, Barb,” he said. “Now be a good girl and hop up on the table.”
Barb stuck her tongue out, but, despite that little show of defiance, climbed up on the table. “On your back,” Stan ordered. Barb arranged herself as directed while Stan went to get some ropes. He tied her hands to the rings set into the table next to her head.
Barb stretched her legs out waiting for Stan to tie her ankles to the lower end of the table. “Nope,” he said. “I want your legs up over your head.”
“You’re kidding, Stan, right? You think I’m Simone Biles?” Barb protested.
“Come on, Barb, you can do it. Here let me help.” Stan grabbed her feet and lifted them so that they were high in the air. Barb’s tight little was lifted right off the table, exposing both her delightful pussy and her rear passage. Quickly, before she could lower her legs, Stan tied her ankles to a chain that hung down from the ceiling.
“Now just hold tight, babe. Don’t go anywhere. I gotta get some things from the kitchen. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Stan Goldman, where are you going?” Barb cried. “If you leave me here we’re done, finished. I’m not kidding. You’ll have to order one of those Japanese blow-up dolls, because who else would have you?”
“Relax, Barb. This will be a great Chanukah present and you’ll like it just as much as I will. I won’t be gone more than a few minutes, OK?” Then he turned and walked up the stairs.