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A Matter of Time Ch. 01

By: absoluteid



They hadn't anticipated the ringing in their ears, or the fact they'd break such a heavy sweat. Martin and Vicki Rochester clasped to their arms around one-another's head, their legs entwined. The couple let go of one another -- slowly, almost fearful.

So much could have gone wrong in this process. Did they get everything right?

"You OK?" Martin asked, as he started to cough himself.

Vicki's eyes were bloodshot. She squinted as some sweat sprinted down her brow.

"Good," she said, then started to cough herself.

Martin shook his head, looking around them. It was in the predawn hours -- as they'd intended. If all went perfect, it was currently 3:43 a.m., Sept. 1, 1989. Vicki lifted the FluX devise up to her face. The handheld computer shimmered with its own light, 132,309,043 binary numbers zipping along its face. She dragged the fingernail of her pinky along the bottom, and the face went black.

Vicki's heart almost stopped. FluX was their lifeboat, their compass and their tracking device.

FluX went back to gray, and then lit up. It hummed, chirped and settled.

"Talk to us, FluX," Martin said.

A woman's voice spoke from it softly. "Time is: zero-three-forty-three, Sept. 1, 1989."

The couple smiled. That was a long time from 2023, where they'd started their trip a few moments ago.

"We did it," Martin said, pulling his wife's face to his for a kiss. For 35 years, they'd worked on this program.

They'd worked for decades for this moment. A moment that brought them back decades. Humans had traveled to the Moon, uncoded the human genome and now traveled through time. All within 100 years. It had been a bloody -- but productive -- century.

"Yes, we did," Vicki acknowledged. And now, they had a small mission.

The couple were in their mid-50s. They'd been together 35 years. And at this place, 1989, they'd just moved in together a few weeks ago. And they wanted to set a few things straight.

The grass around them was wet from dew. It was Bryant Park, about 10 blocks south of the campus of Indiana University. The sense that they were alone was positive. They'd done their research. At this place, they were close enough to their apartment. At this place, they were far enough from suspicion.

Vicki leaned forward and kissed her husband.

"Well," she said, "seems like we've got a few hours to kill."

They'd been wearing simple styles for people their age for the late 1980s. Both were in khaki shorts and feeling pretty ridiculous in their shirts.

"This is like something my grandmother was wearing," she laughed a month earlier, back in their time, when they were finalizing the details. They both wore fanny-packs, which looked ridiculous but would come in handy.

It was 3:45 a.m. and they'd spent some moments looking at the stars. Breathing the air. Kissing, just a bit. They were a couple that had been through a lot, but were together.

Vicki knew Martin's intentions through his movements. He'd touched the inside of her elbow and her knee at the same time. They were alone, aside from FluX and the crickets in the nearby bushes. She kissed him back and pulled him close.

"We've never made love in 1989 before," she said.

Martin laughed. "That's just ridiculous. That needs to change."

He unbuttoned her multicolored blouse and moved it onto their only other piece of luggage, a knapsack he'd brought along that they'd bought in a second-hand store. Originally manufactured in 1987 and still in good shape 37 years later. His wife's skin was known to him, and while older, she'd eaten healthy and stayed active all her life. She had her wrinkles, but she was still sexy.

Martin sucked along her neck as she scratched down his broad shoulders and back. She hesitated, just momentarily, and then pulled him closer to herself. This was going to happen.

Her hands ran through his steel-gray hair as he kissed down her chest. Her breasts rose toward the stars as his mouth sucked and his tongue flickered along them. They'd made love thousands of times and fucked hundreds of times -- there was a difference -- and this was an instance of making love.

He kissed softly down her belly and pulled her khaki shorts off. He smiled as he could see, through the help of FluX's glow, her tattoo she'd gotten during their honeymoon. Three stars along her hipbone. He ran his tongue along her panties and knew she was wet for him.

"Quietly," she said. Sure, they had fake IDs in the knapsack, but police involvement wasn't a goal of their mission. However, she was horny. She'd read about the first woman who went to the Moon a few months earlier, and how horny she was after getting back into the lunar lander. That wasn't intended for public distribution, but in 2022, information leaks quickly.

It made sense. She felt like this on her honeymoon -- after the awkward moments -- just wanting to have sex. She was wet and feeling wild. Vicki put her hand onto her husband's shorts, feeling his stiffness. He'd never needed ED drugs, and she always appreciated that. She rubbed him through the fabric, unbuttoned the shorts and deftly unzipped them. He hadn't been wearing underwear and his shaft was free for her to pull.

She licked her palm and rubbed him.

At the same time, Martin licked two fingers and rubbed Vicki's clit. They put their sweating faces next to one another, kissing slightly, but mainly preparing. Their breathing was still heavy. Partially from the thrill of the travel; partially from the thrill of the stay.

Without words, she got up and Martin moved his legs underneath her. She slid onto his hardness and moved up and down. Their legs were entwined. Bodies connected. His lips traversed her neck and her breasts. Her hands pulled at his shoulders as she impaled herself onto him. They both grunted quietly. This wasn't like their week in the Caymen Islands when they fucked non-stop and talked dirty for hours on end. This was back where they started, and both were acknowledging that in their silence.

"I love you," he said, leaning back onto the wet grass and looking up to his wife. Her image, even in the dark, was more dazzling than the stars that sparked above her.

She pressed her weight down on him, holding his belly as she enjoyed his length and girth. She took his hand and placed his thumb on her clit so he could play and bring her closer to her climax. Martin thrust up quickly. He wasn't 22 anymore, but he knew what he was doing. His fingernails gripped into her thighs -- one of his top 10 favorite sexual acts with his wife. Just a smattering of pain when she's achieving pleasure.

Vicki stretched her body backwards and her walls inside seemed to buckle as she came hard, shaking the roof of her body. She returned her lips to her Martin's and her tongue flickered like a flame against his. She reached down and pulled him out of her, wet with her lubrication.

"What now?" she said, knowing it was his turn to cum.

He rolled her over to her side, and pressed his length back into her. He loved making love, but they had to be a bit quicker than they usually were. Both knew this. Sure, it was 4 a.m. in the morning, but at any moment, a police car could drive nearby and see them. Or a bluehair could wake up and notice the shadows in the dark and come out with a flashlight and a cane. He wanted to cum quickly -- and it wasn't something he was used to.

As if reading his mind, Vicki put his thoughts at ease with just one phrase.

"Fuck me hard, Martin."

She was 55 now, but still knew what to say to him to let him go off like a bear trapped in a meat deli. He slammed inside her, his cock squeezed by her pussy, his balls slapping her ass. He'd conquered time and he owned this body -- as she owned his. There were so many things he needed to do, but right now, he needed to cum. He felt his balls swelling as he pounded. Vicki reached up and dragged her nails down the soft gray hair of his chest, and he began jetting inside her.

Sure, he should have been quiet, but it's not every day you travel through time and have sex with the woman who has been your life for 35 years.

"Oh God, yes!" he yelled. The ejection of cum into her made Vicki's walls tremble again and she enjoyed another orgasm, this one softer, but still pleasurable. She repeated his words, "Oh God, yes," as he fell on top of her.

He breathed into her ear. The ringing was gone and the sweat of the travel was just replaced with the sweat of the stay. The stay together. The sex together.

"I love you," they said in unison.

A small chirp came from FluX. A woman's voice softly spoke.

"The time is zero-four-fifteen..."

The couple embraced and let their bodies readjust a bit, pulling on some of their clothing but letting their orgasms left on the grass. In the east, the sky began to change from black and covered with stars to that first early light -- dawn was an hour away.

"Want to watch sunrise from the highest point on campus?" Martin said.

"I always want to do that," Vicki acknowledged.

She put FluX on vibrate and tucked the devise into a hidden pocket inside her fanny pack. From her fanny pack, she pulled a key. It was a key from 30+ years before that she never turned in, from their first apartment.

Martin and Vicki needed to visit Marty and Victoria's place after the younger version of themselves went to their daily classes starting at 9:10 a.m.

A Matter of Time Ch. 02



Marty woke up hard again. He'd dreamed of sex. He usually did. It didn't help that his girlfriend was sleeping in the other room.

He had proposed this experiment. Victoria Church had debated him about it. They had been dating for a year and spoke about the idea of getting married. This experiment had started a month earlier and, most days, went well.

But Victoria was still a virgin and guarded her body from him. It's not that she abhorred the concept of sex, but it scared her and she'd been told for the better part of 20 years that sex before marriage was not only wrong, but evil and a damnable offense. Even touching herself was a no-no unless she was cleansing her body.

In those moments when she and Marty would kiss and she'd feel her body start to respond to the stimulation, she'd get up and walk away. A part of the experiment was to see if they could live together -- and a part of that meant Marty would have to deal with her convictions.

Her parents lived in separate bedrooms; her maternal grandparents did as well. It was a part of her culture. Sex wasn't for pleasure. It was to help grow God's garden.

But in the morning, Marty woke up hard -- he was a bee without a flower to pollinate.

He opened his door. It was just after 6 a.m. and he could see his girlfriend sleeping on their futon. They purchased it together a month earlier. They loved cuddling on it while they watched the NBC Thursday night shows. Victoria appreciated the human comedy and positive messages of The Cosby Show while Marty enjoyed the sexual tension of Cheers.

He didn't feel wrong for being horny. He was 20. Most of his friends were getting laid on at least a monthly basis. They lived in a college town and plenty of girls here wanted to be fucked. And Marty wasn't quite a virgin. He got laid on the night of his senior prom back in Minneapolis. And the first month of college, he'd gotten head from a fellow IU student. She was a sophomore and a little drunk after leaving a Kirkwood Avenue pub.

But Victoria was raised in Oklahoma, and was the product of Christian fundamentalists. She was smart, funny and sexy as hell. Marty wanted to be with her and hoped she'd accept him in her life -- and eventually in her body.

He looked at her sleeping. Her breasts were hidden under a nightgown, but they were rising up. Her mouth was pouty and he thought about oral sex. He loved the idea of sliding his cock into her mouth.

Marty looked at the clock. It was 6:30 a.m., Sept. 1, 1989. Victoria would be sleeping for another half-hour.

He went back to his bed and pulled a Penthouse magazine from between the mattress and box spring. It was from several months earlier.

He read through some of the letters ... one allegedly from a woman talking about her first time having sex... how much she wanted it, but feared it. Marty thought maybe those were the thoughts of his girlfriend sleeping 10 feet from him. He reached down to his cock and rubbed it up and down.

Marty's breathing quickened just a bit. He decided, yes, it was time. He got up and went to his door, quietly locking it. He hoped one day he could masturbate with his girlfriend...but she'd probably move out if he walked out with his cock in hand right now. And he loved her. He didn't want that to happen.

From the desk that had his old Commodore 64 and the telephone that hooked up to the modem, he grabbed some tissues. Ostensibly, they were for his allergies. In reality, he had no allergies -- except to the filling of his scrotum from his prostate. And that took just a sneezing from his balls through his hard-ons every few days to control.

He pulled off his REO Speedwagon T-shirt and whipped it into his closet. He looked at the Penthouse and flipped to the centerfold. She was beautiful, a redhead in a black teddy.

The biography told of her desires for a smart guy to seduce her. Marty was a smart guy; he graduated first in his class and had interned at the Mayo Clinic. He was studying physics and biology -- he knew he had ideas nobody else had. He could blow this centerfold's mind with his knowledge. And she could blow his cock with those lips. She cupped her breasts in the photo, and Marty cupped his balls. He pulled his tight, white underwear down to his knees and jerked his cock slowly.

His cock had gone from morning wood to enraged in just a few minutes. He pulled his cock with his thumb, index and middle fingers on played with his balls with his ring and pinkie finger. He was a guy and he wanted to have sex. He need to release his seed. He was human and sex was a part of that -- even if it was just in his head.

He thought about his cock sliding into his girlfriend's mouth. Victoria, a virgin, taking it in and licking and sucking on it. He thought about that other girl, Janet, who sucked on it two years earlier and wondered where she was. She was so good at giving a blow job. She seemed to love it as he got so hard.

Marty looked down. His cock was flexed and veins pronounced as he stroked. He quickened his pace, like he would if he was inside this redheaded centerfold. Or inside Janet. Or, better yet, inside Victoria -- the love of his life. Pressing into her mouth or body. Needing to, about to...

Precum leaked from the hole of his head and his eyes widened. If Victoria wasn't here, he'd get some lotion to help, but he was close already. His masturbation was a sin to Victoria -- but it was keeping him sane. He stroked harder and faster, imagining her body underneath him. It was in his mind now, a body he'd never fully seen or touched. Sure, the breasts of this centerfold was helping him visually, but he wanted to be inside Victoria -- feeling her pussy around his cock as her body started...

milking ...

him...

His face tightened as his thoughts raced. He moved his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock harder and faster. Thinking of her body underneath his, rubbing his balls quickly with his ring finger and pinkie. He wished he was inside her, pleasing her. He caught his breath just one more time and felt the jet streaming from his cock. The white cum leaped like a daredevil off a launchpad over a dozen buses filled with naked, horny women. Most of it landed safely into the softness of the tissue. Some ended up splattering onto the page of the Penthouse, coating the centerfolds neck and breasts as he looked down.

More cum leap from his cock and he caught most of it with the tissue. He wished the tissue was her body. He wanted Victoria so badly. He squeezed out some of the leftover cum, it leaking softly onto the centerfold's waist.

Marty exhaled in pleasure. Page ruined, cock satisfied.

He dropped back to his feet and closed the magazine. He laid down and slipped the magazine back between the bed and the box spring, pulling up the edge of the bed to do so. 

Ten feet away, in the living room where she was sleeping, Victoria awoke from a dream. She'd been having sex with her husband on their wedding night. It was Marty -- and that was good. A dream about sex may be evil, but not if it was with her intended, surely. They were wanting to have children and it was only natural to have sex to do that.

But she felt dirty because she'd awoken wet. She heard Marty in his bedroom -- was he grunting? Maybe he was just having a weird dream as he was waking.

She'd been tempted. Tempted to touch herself. Tempted to touch him. But it wasn't allowed, wasn't pure. She thought of Marty -- his jet black hair and how good he looked in his rock 'n' roll T-shirts. She really liked his Def Leppard Hysteria shirt, but if her mother knew that, Victoria would certainly be kicked out of the Oklahoma City Pentecostal Church of Christ's Way. And she didn't want that.

Victoria pulled herself up from the futon, the heavy bedding she enjoyed while sleeping with the windows open. It was cool in Indiana in September. And it stayed cool, until it was replaced with cold. She preferred the heat of Oklahoma when it got too cold in the winter, but fall was her favorite season.

Her nipples were hardened from the chill and she felt guilty. It was 7:10 a.m. -- and she decided to take a shower before her alarm went off.

She stepped softly to the bathroom, reliving her bladder and stretching as she turned on the vent. She liked hot water, but didn't like the steam that it left. She started the shower and waited till the water was hot. She locked the door to the bathroom. Marty knew he wasn't allowed inside when she was naked, but temptation was always there -- especially with him.

Victoria pulled her nightgown over her torso and looked in the small bathroom's mirror over the sink. Her breasts were full and firm. Her sister had measured them at 34C prior to her fitting for her sister's wedding last summer. It was her body and something she'd needed to know, but Victoria was embarrassed by them -- they could create such a fuss.

Reaching her hand up, and then down, Victoria lightly touched her breasts and nipples.

The warmth relaxed her nipples and she felt a slight tickle as her fingernails glided against her tummy. She'd seen a sorority girl walking around with a shirt too tight the previous week and shorts too low. She had a tattoo along her hipbone. The sure sign of an easy girl, she thought. Still, Victoria was intrigued by it. She'd never wanted a tattoo -- but curiosity was now there. It was ... sexy...

and sometimes, she wanted to be.

She stepped into pouring shower and reached up her arms as the water jetted across her arm and onto her breasts. She grabbed her bar of soap and blue washcloth (Marty's was green) and lathered it up. She scrubbed down her legs, stretching her back as she reached down. She felt exposed. Her privates, which she never mentioned aloud, she simple knew as her vagina-area. She was curious but cautious. It's God's body, but the Devil would love to own it. And the Devil can control your actions -- even those of your fingers.

Victoria still felt wet inside -- the water hitting her body not helping her feel cleansed. She was ... horny.

And she hated it.

She stopped as her breathing started to increase. This was God's body, not hers. She would not break her vows. She would only let her husband touch her when the time was right. When her body was ripe.

Victoria thought back to the evening she watched her sister and husband make love. She hadn't meant to, but she'd witnessed it. The look of pleasure on her sister's face as her husband entered her. Their bodies together under the sheets.

One day. Maybe one day soon.

She turned the water cooler and lowered her head so it ran through her red hair and down her back. She thought of her academics. She thought of the library sciences and the controversy on how long the Dewey Decimal System would survive.

Her body craved touch. Her mind forbade it.

Twenty minutes later, she ate breakfast with her boyfriend. He seemed, relaxed, she thought. They chatted about their dreams; he said he'd dreamed of an IU basketball game; she said she'd dreamed of walking in fields in rural Oklahoma. Both lied.

They walked out of their apartment five blocks north of the IU campus at 8:45., Victoria locking to door with a bright brass key as they were leaving. They didn't really notice the older couple across Third Street eying them.

"Wow," the older woman, Vicki, said, as she saw a younger, sexy version of herself and her husband walking down Henderson Avenue.

"How surreal is this?" Martin acknowledged.

"We've certainly done it," she said. "FluX is right. We're back in 1989."

It was time to sent some things right, they realized. They wondered how their personalities of 1989 would take it. They came here from 2023 in a simple time-traveling experiment; and they hoped it would complicate things too much to meet up with themselves. 

Victoria was going to be the tougher one to get through to. Marty probably already knew he'd time-travel eventually.

The older couple was still a bit in shambles from the time-travel experience along with the sex and walking around for the last four hours. They knew young Marty and Victoria wouldn't be home until after their last classes ended at about 4:40 today. The older couple needed some showers and some sleep. They had nothing but time on their hands.

Vicki held up her aged key, brown and scratched.

"Want to go relax in our apartment," she said.

"You know," Martin said, "We've never made love in that apartment."

"And we never fucked in there either," Vicki said. "But we've got all day." 



A Matter of Time Ch. 03



The couple stepped up the flight of stairs to their second floor apartment as Amber -- a girl they knew 35 years before -- walked out of her apartment across from theirs.

She looked at the couple, they were old, Amber figured. Probably in their 50s. Pretty old.

"Hi," Amber said as she looked at them. They looked just like Marty and Victoria. Was it Halloween? Amber wasn't sure. She'd spent the previous few days drunk and fucked -- but she was relatively sure she hadn't lost a month of time.

"Good morning," Martin managed. "We're Marty's parents. You must be Amber," he said. It was bizarre to him. To know this woman's future as she was completely clueless.

"You look just like him," Amber said.

"This is my wife," Martin said, introducing Vicki to Amber.

"Hi," Vicki said.

Very creepy, Amber thought. Marty's mother looked just like his girlfriend. She'd read about these kinds of desires in her psycho-sexuality class. Very Oedipus. She hadn't thought Marty was that way, but he was a bit awkward in his intelligence. Maybe Mommy was the only woman who loved him, so maybe he was just looking for a Mommy-clone with Victoria.

Vicki tried to think of something to call herself. Vicki or Victoria -- what she used to call herself -- would have been too strange -- and they hadn't quite figured out how to handle moments when they might be recognized.

"I'm Mrs. Rochester," she managed.

Amber wanted to shake her head to get the cobwebs and cum out ... she'd drank too much alcohol and cum in the past two days. Instead, she just smiled and started walking down the flight of stairs.

"Nice to meet you," she said. "I have to get to class. Hope to see you around," she said -- but she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Martin and Vicki knew that girl's future. She'd die in 1998 in a car crash along an interstate in Memphis, Tenn. She fell asleep at the wheel, careening across Interstate 40 and hitting an oncoming vehicle, killing a minister and scientist in the other car as well. A triple-fatal wreck was Amber's fate. Part of their mission wasn't to change time, yet. This was an experiment. Martin Rochester had figured out the technology of FluX, so he was able to demand the first experiment.

In the year 2023, President Harold Wilson and a handful of the top scientists awaited the results. It was classified Top Secret, messages about it hand-delivered and immediately burned. None of the technology was in any server anywhere. Only the three computers hardwired to one-another to get FluX to work.

Martin and Vicki walked into the apartment. It seemed so, small. They both started laughing uncontrollably as they toured their first apartment together. In their history, this was their experiment. But they'd leave here after the next semester for a place with a single bedroom that they'd start to share after they got married.

They got married in 1990 after their tragedies.

They were here to just get them beyond those few tragedies. That was their only mission. It was a personal one. Dealing with 9/11 and the attacks on Orlando in 2019, those time-travel switches could wait. This one mission, though, was both an experimental one to see how life could be switched -- and if it was worth the tinkering with time. Nobody really knew.

Plus, what do you do? Stop Osama bin Laden? Or go back and stop Adolf Hitler? Go back and end slavery before it begins? Go back and check out the validity of Christ or Buddah? Nobody was really sure.

Thus, the experiment.

"We lived in a small place," Martin said. He looked down at the newspaper. August 31, 1989. Perfect. He took from his nap sack an envelope.

Vicki picked up the phone book and looked up a hotel where they could stay. Check in wasn't until 3 p.m., but they couldn't stay with their younger selves just yet. Plus, this apartment wasn't meant for four; it barely was meant for two.

She called and made the reservation. She looked at her husband as she held the clunky phone that was tied to the wall. How did anyone ever live this way, she thought, a smile coming to her face.

"You are a genius," Vicki said. "I don't believe we are back in 1989. Do you know how horny I was that year? I spent so much time trying to stop myself from myself."

"How did that work out for you?"

"Well, remember how depressed I was that second year we were married because I didn't know what we were doing by just having sex and not having kids?"

"Of course, hon," Martin said. He knew their history all too well. That was part of the reason they were here. To make it so they could reproduce. It's a strong desire in humans.

Vicki sat down on the futon where her younger version had been hamstrung by horniness earlier in the morning. "Come here," she said.

Martin walked over and was about to sit down when she stopped him by holding her hand on his left him. She unbuttoned the button and zipped down the fly on his dockers.

He thought he might need to write this down for his after-action report. Time-travel makes people horny. Very horny.

She looked up at him.

"Remember how we never had sex in this apartment? We both went about our ways with our secrets?" she said. "Well, that changes now. I'm going to suck your cock and we're going to fuck right here, right now."

His cock was already starting to come back to life as she ripped down his shorts. She nuzzled against his belly and lowered her mouth onto the head of his cock. With one hand, she pulled him close to her face. He ran his left hand through her soft red hair. Time had lightened it, but it retained its basic color. His other hand he reached down to her blouse, reaching in and rubbing her breasts.

She looked up with her ocean blue eyes and smiled at Martin for just a moment, and then got back to sucking. It had taken a decade of their marriage before she learned to suck cock -- and several more months before she truly loved it. But she did now. It was what she wanted to do. To please her genius of a husband.

His knees buckled a bit. He was 55-years-old and while he loved sex, and receiving oral, he hadn't anticipated two sessions in five hours. He moved both of his hands onto his wife's face, guiding it back and fourth as his 8-inches were hardening and lubricated by the nature of Vicki's mouth.

She pulled down her shorts and moved her right hand from the small of his back to the moisture in her core. She played with her clit, something she never did in this apartment before, and dipped her finger -- and then a second one -- into her pussy.

And that's what she called it now. Her pussy. She owned it and leased it to her husband.

For his pleasure and for hers.

Vicki moaned.

Martin did as well.

He unbuttoned her blouse and pulled her bra up, exposing her still 34C breasts. They'd both stayed in shape throughout their lives. They loved one-another and loved sex with one-another now. Sure, it took time, but it happened. They didn't give up on each other.

And now the sex was hotter than ever.

Her sex was smooth. She learned she preferred it this way -- although on her honeymoon night it was just a soft patch of pubic hair. But now it was exposed for easy access for licking and rubbing and fucking.

Vicki pulled Martin's cock from her mouth.

"Fuck me, babe," she said. She moved back to the futon that was in couch position. She hooked one leg underneath an arm of the futon and spread the other leg wide. Her legs were still defined from her five-mile runs on a daily basis. Her tattoo was out for the world to see again. Her pussy was wet from her play and from her thoughts of having dirty sex in such a "pure" place.

Martin leaned down and kissed his wife along the neck and on the rise of her left breast. He ran his cock along her clit and slapped it down against her body, teasing her only briefly.

Then he jammed it in, to the hilt. There were times when she wanted to make love, and there were times when she wanted to fuck. Martin could tell right away this was not a time where she wanted the touch of a rose, but of the thorn.

He grabbed her left leg as his cock impaled her and thrust inside her. She reached down with both of her hands, rubbing her exposed clit with one, and reaching down to squeeze her husbands balls and cock with the other as he slammed into her. She was breathing heavy and loving the sex, the thrill, the oneness.

Vicki felt the orgasm from out of nowhere. Maybe it was the result of being withheld for decades because of her family's religious doctrine, but here, she was cumming hard all over her husband's cock.

"Oh my God!" she shouted to the being she once was assured about, but now looked at as -- at least partially -- a human creation to alleviate fears of death and take control of some parts of society. "I'm cumming soooo hard," she laughed as Martin's cock railed inside her.

He felt like God as he fucked.

Vicki's fingers reached up and -- with her thumb and index finger -- began to squeeze Martin's nipple. Tight. A little pain with the pleasure. He reciprocated with her right breast, squeezing hard. It was far from agony. It was a good pain. Pain reminds you you're alive, even with accompanied by pleasure.

He pulled his cock from his wife of 35 years and rolled her over. She instinctively arched her ass higher to give him access to her pussy. He grabbed her thighs and rubbed the head of his cock up and down her pussy, then slowly drove it back inside her womb.

Vicki rubbed her hand along her clit and onto his cock and balls as he slide his length inside her. He leaned down and kissed her shoulder as he blazed on. His loins were on fire with the friction and passion.

"Oh, yeah..." he breathed. "So close."

"Inside me," she begged. And he responded, shooting his seed into her for the second time in six hours. Not bad for their age, he thought.

They recovered and showered for a few minutes together. Their memories of where things were was perfect. The clean towels were kept in his closet. Bar soap? Wow... it had been decades since they'd used bar soap. And the television remote was bigger than many personal telecommunicators of their new year, 2023.

Still, it was nice to be back, reliving some of their memories and making new ones.

They left a note next to the door on the ground in an envelope and marked it: "Marty & Victoria: Open, read together." They walked out the door and locked it behind them.

Vicki and Martin were hungry after the time-travel and sexual escapades. They'd been to Bloomington a year before and were sad their favorite hang out had been burnt down in an arson fire. But it was still here now. They strolled along Third Street, an old couple among thousands of young students who had no idea they were seeing history walking down the sidewalk.

That afternoon, they would check into their hotel near the College Mall and sleep. They would have to await a phone call.

That afternoon, their younger selves would meet at the Sample Gates at the intersection of Kirkwood and Indiana Avenue, walking south, uphill, to their apartment. Marty loved looking at his girlfriend -- even dressed conservatively, she was so damn sexy. He wondered if he could get to third base tonight.

Amber was walking in from her day as well when they were walking up the flight of stairs. She'd had a hard day. Two classes and a blow job to her boss at work. She really needed to start saying no to all these guys, but yes was so much easier.

"Hey guys," Amber said. "How's it going?"

"Good," Victoria responded. She didn't trust Amber. Something about that girl was just unpure.

Amber looked at Marty.

"You look just like your father, Marty," she said.

He didn't know how to respond. His father had been dead six years and actually he had more of his mother's genes.

"Excuse me?"

Amber looked at the couple, who were obviously bewildered by her comment. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Rochester were surprising the young couple. God, she hated that thought. She should tell them his parents were here -- just so they could get all their condoms and sex toys stashed. She hated when her parents visited, she'd fret the entire time worried they'd finger her dildos. But it wasn't her business.

"Um, nothing. Sorry. I'm a bit out of it. It's been a hard week," Amber said, remembering she had a meeting with a classmate in 30 minutes that was going to lead to a dorm room blow job. She was sure of that much.

"Alright," Marty said, opening the door and letting his girlfriend in first. On the floor, there was a large envelope that looked like he'd been slipped under the door frame. That didn't seem possible, Marty thought. It was much too thick to slide easily and was a foot inside the hallway. No way could an envelop that size fit under that door and, along with that, have enough momentum to be pushed 12 inches.

Victoria read the top of it aloud as Marty shut the door. They went to the futon where they'd had sex 35 years later, and six hours before.

They opened it and read the words together.

"Marty and Victoria, this is going to be, possibly, unbelievable. But it's true. Victoria, you'll probably consider this some work of the Devil, it's not. It's the discovery of Marty 35 years from now.

Marty -- you're on the right track with your 'fluid' concept. Time is just moments of ripples, and you can drop another drop into it, and cause new ripples into old ones. Victoria -- what you saw your sister and her husband do wasn't sinful. It was beautiful. They did that again recently, and they'll soon announce she's due in May (keep this a secret, please. They don't know yet).

We are you and we'd like to meet. Yes, it's scary. Yes, it's incredible. Yes, it's true. We are at the Atwater Inn, (812) 555-4432. This is a secret for just us four.

We understand if you don't believe right now. Here are a few things to be aware of: Chris Everett is going to beat Monica Seles in the U.S. Open in two days, but will lose in the finals to Zina Garrison. A jet is going to crash in Cuba, killing more than 100 but less than 200 people. Living Color is going to win best act of the year at the MTV music awards and the Jerry Lewis telethon is going to raise precisely $42,737,219. That's all happening in the next few days. Please meet us at your favorite place to eat at 7 p.m. -- Martin and Vicki"

Victoria looked at Marty, completely taken aback.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

Marty had no idea what was happening. He was thrilled but confused. If he'd figured out time-travel, why were there still bad things in time? Did he need to grow older for another 30- plus years before going back and fixing injustices?

Is this what Amber was talking about?

He got up and grabbed Victoria's hand, walking out their front door and going to Amber's apartment, pounding on it. She'd just sat down on her futon to watch some TV when she heard the pounding and it startled her. She'd hoped it wasn't her professor wanting another blow job.

Amber looked in the peephole and saw her neighbors, and opened her door.

Marty was to the point.

"Amber. What did you mean I look like my father?"

"Um? I don't know. You know your parents are in town, right?"

"OK," he said. Of course, it made no sense. His father was dead and his mother was in the United Kingdom working on a project for their fledgling space program.

"Well, I just said hi to them."

"What did they look like," Victoria said.

Amber smirked. It was an odd question.

"They looked like ... like you two."



A Matter of Time Ch. 04



Marty and Victoria walked back into their apartment, dumbfounded. How do you react when you show up to say hi to you?

And what is your purpose?

"I don't believe it. Just some joke. Someone's putting one over on us. Probably someone from your physics lab."

But Marty already knew it wasn't possible.

"Victoria, nobody knows about fluid theory. I've not even written it down. I have thoughts from some scientific research I've read, but it's all up here," he said, tapping his index finger to his temple.

And nobody knew what she'd seen when it came to her sister and brother. Who else could have known that except for herself? But why share such an intimate secret out loud? How humiliating. Even if it didn't state what she'd witnessed, any first-year criminal justice major could figure it out. She'd seen sex. She'd seen her sister's back arching and heard her sister's moans -- a smile across her face -- as she experienced sex, what was supposed to be a dirty, sinful experience.

It was like it was yesterday. Victoria had been in a walk-in closet looking for a bra for her 18-year-old breasts after having gotten out of a shower -- and then she heard the noise of her sister and new husband as they walked in, piled on the bed and began grinding against one-another.

Her sister quickly started panting as her brother rubbed between her legs. Victoria covered her naked breasts with her hands and wanted to get out of the room, but didn't want to be seen naked -- and didn't want it to be known she'd witnessed the lust.

So she sat in the closet, quietly -- occasionally glancing between the door and frame as her sister pulled her husband's cock -- and then took it in her mouth. It was disgusting. And intriguing.

Victoria looked away and looked back. It was like a visual drug. She tried to hug her ears tight as her sister began moaning those words. "Fuck me." How dare her act like such a ... whore.

But she did. And her brother began thrusting deep inside her over and over -- their bodies crashing and moans increasing in frantic gasps.

It was terrifying. And intoxicating. And Victoria was scared that someone knew that about her.

"So, we just go out there, and meet these people? These strangers?" Victoria asked.

The implications, the implications, Marty thought. Does it make sense? Why meet yourself? Why not meet Einstein or Telsa and get their take on time-travel? Why not go back in time, to when Hitler was a child, and toss his juvenile-life in front of a train?

Marty looked at the clock. It was a bit after 5 p.m. and he wanted to do some writing. He kissed Victoria, his tongue lapping into her mouth. She enjoyed it, but didn't want to. She was tempted. After all, she thought, they are married in the future.

Or this is some sort of crazy joke. Maybe even the Devil himself casting nets to catch purity. The Devil does walk amongst us, she'd been taught. Especially in college towns where sin was status quo.

She felt violated and wanted a cold shower to wash her head of these thoughts.

"I need to write down a few formulas," Marty said.

"I need to take a shower," Victoria noted. Marty thought it was odd, but didn't question it.

In the shower, she felt her body -- more so than normal. Just lightly along her rising breasts, her hips ... and a glancing touch along the rise of her clit. She was wet, and felt guilty. And horny. And she couldn't quite shake the feeling -- but she would. She always did.

One hour, 50 minutes later, Marty and Victoria the younger walked down Kirkwood to their favorite eatery. They wore their best outfits. Her blouse had flowers, the shoulders padded, her knee-length skirt pleaded. Marty was decked out in a pair of Bugle Boy slacks and an Izod collared shirt. He'd debated wearing just a pair of acid-wash jeans and an Ocean Pacific surfer shirt, but he wanted to be taken seriously. And if it was a joke, they could still just enjoy dinner before going home to kiss a bit before returning to their individual beddings.

"Hello," said the woman greeting them at the door. She recognized them as regulars and had her instructions. "I have a private booth for you. Your parents are already seated," she said.

Their breathing was off-kilter. Parents. It was a part of the ploy, or the prank. Which, they were about to discover.

Looking upon an older version of yourself is more difficult than a younger version.

Humanity has perfected photographs and memories are in reverse, not forward. So as Marty and Victoria approached the table and saw their older selves, they were worried and awestruck and cautious.

Martin waved them toward the table, and felt his mind racing. What was going on in his head? Was he about to have a stroke in this moment of success? Watching yourself die probably wouldn't be a good thing for his younger self. No, it wasn't a stroke. He looked at his wife of 35 years. She was experiencing the same feelings.

"You OK?" he said, looking at her and looking back at their younger selves.

"Um, yeah," she said. "Just ... a bit..."

"Yeah, I know. I'm feeling it, too."

"Hi," Marty said, shaking the hand of the older gentleman. "Good evening," Vicki said, taking the fingers of her younger self as she stood up to say hello. Damn, she thought, I was slamming, even in with those shoulder pads.

Marty sat down and looked at himself. He was young and better looking than he'd anticipated. Maybe that's why that stripper throws herself at him in a few days. Maybe that's why he had such crazy sex with her, unprotected. It was a stupid move and had to be avoided.

"Forgive me, for just a moment," Martin said. "My wife, Vicki, and I are having ... well, new memories installed."

She was closing her eyes slowly and opening them back up. She seemed momentarily dazed but not confused.

"Yes, that is it," she said. "I remember meeting myself now. Wow, Martin."

"Yes. This should have been anticipated. I don't know why I didn't think about this?"

Marty and Victoria looked at them. They looked so similar. Same size, same basic frame. Same eyes, lips, nose. They were just older. That's all. And they were acting a bit out of sync.

"May I ask what's wrong," Victoria said. Her strength had always been in helping others, be they sinners or saints, but never herself.

"Nothing, my dear," Vicki said as she licked her lips. "It's just, as we speak, we are having new memories added to our old memories. I started experiencing it earlier and thought it was just deja vu. But I now remember finding the envelope and talking with Amber about..."

"About us," her husband finished. "Yes. I thought it was just a day dream as well. But now, it's like ... well ... not bad ... but like feedback in our memories. As we speak, we're not only growing our new memories of this moment, but we're having old memories overlap our other memories of 1989."

But he didn't think he'd lost memories of the other days. It would take a few days to figure out. Because the sex with Janet. She was a stripper -- a girl who had given him a blow job during his freshman year when she was a sophomore -- had seemed unforgettable at the time. When he avoids it this time, will that memory be completely erased? Or will it stick around like he had been a dream? He wasn't sure.

He kinda hoped it stuck around. Sure, the events of that day screwed up his life in 324,483 ways since 1989, but the sex with Janet was pretty damn hot. It happens in two days, when he and Victoria were in a huge fight. He liked the idea of at least remembering the sex in a dream-like fashion, but the other events of that day need to be adjusted.

He looked at his wife-at-20. She was so desirable 35 years ago and -- he glanced at his wife -- she was desirable now. He was here with Vicki to help keep her out of harm's way. The rape takes place in two days -- and while he didn't want to change all of history, they needed to tweak it so she wasn't harmed by that unknown rapist.

"So," Marty said. "What happens in the next three decades?"

"Well," Martin responded. "That's not as important as what happens in the next three days."

Victoria looked at her older self.

"What? What happens?"

Vicki looked at her younger self.

"We can't say too much. But we're here to steer you two clear of some troubles."

The four spoke, sometimes haphazardly, about life and their experiences. They were apprehensive as 20-year-old college students. But their older selves were open.

"Listen," Vicki said to the young couple, "you're going to learn to love one-another -- but if we don't change the immediate future, it is a long two decades ahead. Full of fear and sadness and depression. But if we help, we can make the next three decades great for you."

Marty looked at his wife, or, his girlfriend's self in her 50s. She looked like she loved life. Like she loved it.

Martin looked at his younger self.

"To answer your question, Marty, you two learn to love sex. Love it, together."

Victoria bit her lip. Why would this be a topic? Was he really that concerned about sex?

Vicki remembered the thoughts, fresh in her head as they appeared in the younger Victoria.

"Yes, Victoria. Sex is important to you as a couple. You don't know it yet, but you're going to love sex." She leaned forward, saying loud enough for the men to hear. "You're even going to love fucking."

Victoria was aghast. How would she ever speak this way? What had gotten into her, aside from a man's penis, in the next 30 years?

Martin laughed a bit. This was actually fun. But he didn't want his young bride to feel completely awkward.

"Marty, let me see the drawings. I think your figures are off." He remembered the formulas now as he'd written them. It was a type of deja vu -- but scientists were going to have to rename this. It was memory capture, maybe.

How did this guy know he'd done some drawings? It was bizarre. Marty pulled the paperwork from a folder and showed them, how he thought fluid time would work.

"This is good," he said. "And not quite there. You're missing a key ingredient that won't be available until 2017. But you'll get there. Obviously."

"2017? That's so far away."

The older couple laughed. Life seemed so far away at the beginning of a timeline. But then it moves so fast, and you can't stop it. Not until now. At least, the timeline could be readjusted.

After an hour of verbal sparring, the couples took a walk onto campus. They walked to the fountain where people kissed and both couples followed suit, kissing their partner. The young couple barely touched their lips. The older couple passionately kissed. They hadn't been to campus for years, and this was so crazy that they were enjoying every private moment out in the public.

They were horny again. So was the younger couple, but Victoria had already decided she was going to lock herself in the bathroom and take a cool bath until her future husband went to sleep in his bedroom. This "fucking" talk was not her. She didn't know what happened, but she didn't like the idea of being someone who talked like that. Like Amber, across the way, with all of her sinful ways. Victoria was polite to her, but she knew -- her ways were the ways that pleased Satan, not the Lord.

Before parting ways, Martin and Vicki spoke to Marty and Victoria.

"We have a mission," Martin said. "We'd like to take you to out tomorrow after your 11 a.m. classes, OK?"

"OK," Marty said.

"And we're going to separate you for a few hours tomorrow," Vicki said.

"OK," Victoria said, hesitating.

"It's OK, Vicki. We're you. We're only here to help."

Victoria didn't know what to do. She wanted to look in her Bible. Maybe there was a mention of time-travel and how to respond to it. She would have to pray hard.

"That's silly," Vicki said. "But I understand why you'd want to try that. Things are changing, but you're going to survive this. Your faith is about to be tested, and your faith may be adjusted, but you're going to be OK."

Vicki and Martin walked away -- back toward their hotel. They were going to make love tonight. Long, luxurious touches for the couple. And they'd sleep soundly next to one another, lovers forever. Their younger selves were going to go home and deal with all of these new realities. They'd find it almost impossible to sleep, 10 feet apart.



A Matter of Time Ch. 05



Janet wished she could go back in time, just a few years, and change some of her decisions. As she slowly kissed Yvette, a fellow dancer at Dazzlers, she wished she'd not felt like this was her only outlet for love.

Not that Yvette was a bad experience. They really cared about one-another. But their affair was only between dances. And then Janet would have to go home to her man -- his greasy hair and strong arms -- holding her down as he tried to fuck her with his usually flaccid penis. Marco looked strong and had a nice smile, but the steroids made him moody and his twice-weekly heroin injection made him unpredictable.

He'd come in a year before and gave Janet $300 for a night of dances. Marco didn't even want -- or was unable to have -- sex that night. Three weeks later, she moved in with him. He was immediately abusive, but she needed his shelter and money. Her family had disowned her when she failed out of Indiana University -- she'd wanted to be an artist -- and couldn't afford to move back to western Virginia.

So she started stripping, and she met Marco. They'd had good sex twice. Everything else was misery. She was in a trap that she'd built, but didn't know how to break the snare.

Yvette cooed as she licked down Janet's neck. 

They'd started this relationship a few months earlier in the changing room. Each time, it got hotter. When Janet saw Yvette was working the day shift with her, she became wet from the thoughts of the love that was going to happen behind a locked door.

They had 15 minutes before their noon shift began. And they were taking advantage of it. Janet wasn't a lesbian, she didn't think so anyway, but she loved human touch.

Yvette loved using her breasts as tools in sex. 

Her 36D bra-size inspired hard-ons and wetness and she loved that fact. She rubbed her left nipple along Janet's smaller chest and held it up to Janet's lips.

"Suck on me, baby," she coached her co-worker. As Janet, who stood 6 inches shorter, began to suckle, Yvette slipped her finger into Janet's thong panties, between Janet's thighs, finding the goal. Janet's pussy, already moist and ready for a touch, was clean-shaven for work.

Yvette loved the sensation of her fingers inside a woman. And she loved working her lover's clit. She loved Janet, and fretted those emotions, but she also was addicted to the sex.

She twirled her thumb along Janet's clit as the younger Janet inhaled and exhaled on Yvette's tit. Both moaned.

With her brown hair dyed platinum blonde, Yvette owned the younger stripper, taking off her bikini top and running her red-tipped fingernails -- two of them wet with pussy juices -- along Janet's C-cup breasts, her small nipples pink and raised. Yvette pressed her nipples to Janet's as the couple kissed hard. Yvette kissed down her chest and to Janet's belly.

Yvette was 23 and in charge. She was happy with who she was and wanted to bring her younger lover with her in life. They had similar thoughts, likes and loves -- of Bon Jovi, the St. Louis Cardinals and sex. Neither were shy, but Janet definitely only showed tenderness at the strip club and behind closed doors. Never while walking along College Avenue or hanging out at Nick's pub on Kirkwood.

She pushed apart Janet's legs and gave a long, loving lick to her clit and pussy. She cupped her breasts as she wrapped Janet's left leg over her shoulder and pressed her against a gray locker. 

The boss knew antics took place in here and watched from a secret peep hole in his office's closet. The girls fucked blindly before they were to take the stage.

Yvette railed her fingernails down Janet's breasts and tummy, then clawed her left ass cheek as she pressed three fingers into her pussy.

Janet was already beyond gone. She loved the sex with Yvette. It was always hot. Always like a first time.

"Cum for me, sweety," Yvette coached her lover. Janet arched backwards as her body obeyed Yvette's command.

"Oh, God!" she screamed. She rarely came quickly, but Yvette had a way. Yvette's red ruby lips sipped Janet's juices. There wouldn't be time for Janet to bring Yvette to climax, but there was always next shift.

***

Martin had met Marty at the Sample Gates and the two walked down Kirkwood and south on College Avenue.

"Where are we going," Marty questioned.

Martin raised an eyebrow.

"Here's the deal, Marty. While we can tweak time a tad, we have to make the same moves as we previously had. Every ripple in time is affected by what we do, so we have to tread carefully."

"OK."

"So, I remember quite well what I did on Sept. 2, 1989. I was annoyed with Victoria because she acted awkward about a dirty joke I told this morning. So I went to Dazzler's to tell the joke to a girl who would appreciate it."

Marty wondered how Martin knew about his attempt at the dirty joke. But he wasn't really all that mad. She had cracked a bit of a smile. The impact of the time tweaking from the night before had already shaded the moment. Victoria wasn't sure what to make of her older self talking about "fucking," but apparently sex wasn't a subject she avoids much in the next 35 years.

And if it's a joke her husband -- or husband to be -- made, then it was OK, right? At least, it's not evil, is it?

But the older Martin had split memories now to go along with his shared memories. He remembered Victoria's annoyance in 1989, and her near-smile. Still, to be sure to not screw things up, he believed he had to go through the motions of screwing things up. 

They began walking north on College Avenue toward Dazzlers, across from the AT&T building with antennas reaching for the skies.

***

"Do you think we could ever be together?" Yvette asked, as she toweled off her lover's sweat.

"What? Like a couple?" Janet responded. "I don't think so. I couldn't live life as a full-time lesbian. There's no way I'd ever patch things up with my parents."

Yvette fumed. They already disowned you. Yvette wondered if she'd ever find love with a woman. It was 1989 for crying out loud. We're gay and we're here to stay, she thought.

"We need to stop this then," Yvette said in a command. "I don't want to kiss someone who could never love me."

Just a few minutes before, Yvette imagined them together-forever, like that Rick Astley song from last summer. But now, she felt rejected.

"No, wait," Janet said. "It's just, I can't ... you make me happy, but I'll end up alone."

"We all end up alone," Yvette snapped. "It's just if you want to have love in the meantime. And you're not getting it from limp-dick and you're not getting it from your lame-ass parents."

"Calm down, Vette," Janet urged.

"No, I won't calm down. I'm not done. You're not going to get love from me, if it's not what you want."

Yvette picked up her Ratt T-shirt and pulled up her jean shorts, torn and frilled along the edges.

"Tell the boss I have to go home. I'm feeling sick. Feel free to take my dances, you god damn breeder."

Yvette stormed out the backdoor as Martin and Marty were walking in the front entrance.

Janet quietly cried. She'd screwed up, she knew it. But she didn't know what to do. So she prepared for her dance, wondering if she'd ever find a bit of love and lust. Yvette was right. She really needed Marco out of her life. He was too addicted to his drugs and too prone to striking her in his fits of rage. But leaving a drug addict for a woman wasn't an easy choice. Not today. Civilization, even in Bloomington Indiana, wasn't as advanced as Yvette wanted it to be. And Janet did love sex with men -- and she wanted children one day.

Maybe today a Dazzler's patron would change her life.

Janet walked out and up onto the stage. At noon, few men were at the establishment. Four total. The retired guy who never tipped; the minister from the Ellettsville church and two other men she didn't recognize at first.

She twirled on a pole and looked down. It was ...

"Marty?" she spoke.

Marty remembered that face instantly. He remembered her going down on him two years earlier. 

They'd been at a house party just off campus when she started openingly flirting with him. Her eyes, so bright. Licking her lips on purpose and raising the bottle of her Bartles & James wine cooler to her mouth -- and sucking on the tip as she looked at him.

It wasn't long before they found a quiet room where they kissed for just a minute before Janet lowered her face to his crotch, pulled out his virgin cock, and furiously sucked on him with his Levi's 501 Blues drapped down on his knees.

He came in that mouth, although he never saw another inch of her body. 

Now he was seeing a whole lot more of her body as she swung around on the stage. The mist on her body was an aura of sex. Like she'd just had a climax a few minutes prior.

But now her eyes seemed sad, even as she smiled in recognizing him.

Moreover, remembering his name.

"Hi, Janet," he said, wondering if she'd take that bikini top off in front of him and his other self.



A Matter of Time Ch. 06



"Up on stage now," the announcer/owner of Dazzler's shouted into his intercom, "is the always sexy, always ready, Candy and her 34C's of pleasure for your eyes."

She ripped around the stripper pole, her strawberry blonde hair bulleting around her neck as she did. Here, she wasn't Janet. Here she was Candy. Always sexy, always ready.

Janet absorbed herself into her persona. Maybe she could seduce Marty again. Maybe he could save her. She remembered bits and pieces about him. He was smart and shy and had a nice cock. His cum even tasted, well, good. It had been a one-night stand -- even less than that, just a one-night suck. But maybe it could have been so much more.

He seemed so much sweeter than her boyfriend, Marco.

Or maybe Yvette was right. Maybe just love her lover and leave the area and her family.

Marty and Martin, himself 35 years older, looked at the 21-year-old body. It'd been a while since either of them had seen a naked woman who wasn't either in her early 60s or a two-dimensional version of a porn star.

On the speaker system, "You Give Love A Bad Name" rocked Dazzler's. It was one of four songs Candy used. And it was her favorite. It spoke to her on so many levels. And she loved Jon Bon Jovi.

The club reeked of smoke and Martin coughed. In his time, the year 2023, strip clubs barely existed. After the attacks of 2019, everything became very buttoned-down again. But even when there were adult fantasy establishments, they were non-smoking.

She zipped back around and looked at the two men. It was always odd when sons and fathers came to the club together, but that's how it appeared. Candy came down the stage and broke the fourth wall to say hello.

"You're a beautiful woman," Martin said, sliding a $5 bill into the middle of her bikini top. She never took it off until the second chorus.

"Thank you, sir. You're very kind."

Janet, still feeling Candy inside her, looked at the younger man -- a lover of one night.

"And, do you have anything for me?" she asked.

About seven inches, Marty thought as he adjusted how he was sitting to accommodate his stiffening eight inches, which he underestimated. But he was embarrassed he didn't know how to react or what to say. All he knew was his week was bizarre on about 37 different levels.

Martin gave his younger self a $5 bill and he, in turn, tucked it into Janet's bikini bottom -- his fingertips touching her moist, smooth skin.

"Thank you, Marty. For so much," she smiled. "You two are big spenders. I usually don't get fives until the fraternities are stealing those bills from their freshmen inductees."

"You deserve so much more than fives," the older man said. "I'm Marty's uncle, by the way," he continued. It had been a long time since he'd seen her. And although the older man knew this stripper was the reason he spent a decade in couple's counseling and partly the reason he wasn't able to conceive a child, she was intoxicatingly sexy.

"Hi, Marty's uncle," she said. "I'm Candy. He knows me by another name. And I hope he remembers it long enough to give me a call sometime soon," she said as she untied her string bikini and let it fall off her shoulders onto the small, round table the men shared.

Martin regretted spending that time with her, but he also loved that intense memory. It's the crippling thoughts of the cheater. The emotional toll that each kiss took on their lover; the pleasure of the moment and the erotic memories that are burned into their minds.

Candy's breasts -- so recently sucked on by Yvette -- were full and her nipples hard. Candy loved being naked in public; while her life as Janet would still freak out a bit by being seen in the nude.

Marty looked at her breasts, realizing he'd never seen them -- only grabbed them through her T-shirt while she sucked his cock freshman year. Martin looked at her breasts, realizing he'd never touch them again. Realizing that he'd be erasing most of his memories of sucking on them, cumming on them, as he took his younger self out of Dazzler's in a few minutes.

The perils of time travel.

Candy swept her legs down in front of the two men again and leaned forward, whispering in the younger Marty's ear. Martin remembered the whisper and the smell of her warm perfume.

"I need to get fucked," Candy said. "Please meet me in front in an hour."

Marty nodded his head in agreement, almost automatically. Interesting, his older self thought. Was Candy, well, Janet, so seductive that he'd try to fuck her even though his older self was here as well?

Candy smiled big, holding her breasts to him, and walked back onto the stage. She stepped high to go give some attention to the other few men in the strip club.

"Holy shit," Marty looked at his older self.

"It can't happen," Martin told him. "Trust me, I know."

Martin thought back to 1989. To this day. To what happened. And to what couldn't happen.

On this day 1989, a hour later, Marty nervously stood in front of Dazzler's. He wondered if anyone driving by along Walnut Avenue would look over to the parking lot and notice him. If Victoria would someone hear about this incident. He watched Dazzler's front door, awaiting Janet, when she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey sexy," she said. She was looking like Janet again. With a button up jean jacket and tight Levi's. In her mind, she was still in Candy-persona.

"Oh, hi," Marty responded.

"Don't say too much," she said. "I just want to feel you. All of you." She turned around and Marty looked at her long hair as wind lifted it like a patriotic flag. Her jeans were shaped, almost painted, to her hips. He could bend her over right here. He paused. He had a virgin girlfriend he lived with at home. He was to be faithful to her.

That virginity sure got in his way, though. He had to jack off in private for any sexual relief. He wanted to ...

Janet turned around.

"Please, Marty," she said out loud. "I want you to fuck me." She didn't stop walking, stepping to her car, a blue 1985 Pontiac Grand Am. It was about the hottest thing to drive, she thought.

Marty stood there, thinking about running back to his apartment; thinking about running to the Grand Am.

Candy sat in her car and twisted the key in the ignition. She leaned to her right and popped open the passenger's side door. Marty looked at it and decided he shouldn't run.

He walked toward it.

She drove him to a road off Lake Monroe as they listened to Q-95 radio with the latest song from Bad English on the radio. "When I See You Smile." Janet smirked as she looked at Marty. He was cute. A bit skinny. A bit scared. But cute. And she remembered he had a nice sized cock. Not too big. Not small. And he was nice. They could be a good couple together -- if she could convince him of it through hot sex.

The road was gravel.

"Where are we going?" Marty asked.

"My future home," Janet said.

They pulled into an unfinished drive that led to an unfinished house. It had been under construction, but a lien on the property owners stalled it. A fence stood around it.

"Your house?" Marty asked,

"Sure. Why not?"

It was a mansion, really. On the edge of the state's largest man-made lake, a reservoir that was also the state's largest body of water -- not counting Lake Michigan that defined the northwestern border of the state.

"Um, is this really yours'?" Marty asked.

"For the next hour it is," she responded, climbing up and over the metal fencing.

He looked at her. It was an autumn day and a leaf fell down into her hair. She unbuttoned her jacket and pulled it off her shoulders. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. Her breasts were full and nipples hardened in the breeze.

Marty scaled the fence and jumped down the other side. He walked up to her, thinking about her body and remembering her mouth. He was going to cum here one way or another, he knew that. He thought about Victoria and her moods. Her fears of sex. Her cold attitude toward the physical.

And Marty needed to get laid.

"I need to get laid," Janet said, turning around and walking up into the empty home. Marty was sporting wood and followed her inside, seeing the view of a few boats in the distance on the lake. It was a beautiful site. A million dollar view. Their steps echoed in the mansion.

She turned around and walked to him, leaning up and kissing his lips. Any resistance from Marty was gone. His hands crept from her hips to her ribs to her neck. Janet's tongue swam into Marty's mouth. He was a nice guy. He could provide for her. He could save her life. She didn't need her boyfriend. She didn't need her girlfriend. She just needed one guy to care for her. And she could have him now.

Janet pulled his shirt off and kissed his neck. She grabbed him by the belt loops of his jeans. He reciprocated, holding her by her beltloops as they kissed, his chest touching her breasts softly. It was going to happen. His third orgasm with other person was minutes from happening.

"Kiss me. All of me," Janet said, unhooking the buttonfly on her Levi's. She leaned back onto a storage box that had a countertop packed inside. Marty kissed her lips and looked at her eyes and then let his lips wander. His previous sexual experience had been fumbling moments followed by a quick cum. He wanted to take his time with Janet, or was she Candy? He wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life. He kissed the rise of her shoulder and down her left arm. He looked up to her eyes as she looked at him and smiled. She cupped his head and moved it to her breasts, leaning back as his mouth touched breasts for the first time. It was as erotic as he thought.

He grasped her left breast with his hand as he suckled the right nipple, and then her right breast with his hand, thumbing his saliva along her nipple as he kissed her left breast.

It was his first time for so many things. He'd never kissed a girl like this. Just humped in the dark that one time after senior prom. And got head from Janet his freshman year of college.

He looked up and kissed down to her belly. Marty unzipped her jeans and pulled them off her strong hips.

"Kiss me," she said. "All of me."

She wasn't wearing panties. He imagined that was on purpose. He'd never seen a woman naked. He'd never explored. He licked, sparingly, unsure what was going to happen. Janet spread her hips wide, offering her pussy to his eyes and lips and fingers. Marty's curiosity got to him. He kissed her vagina and slipped his tongue inside.

Her hands ran along his scalp. He tried to take in the taste of woman. She was sweet, like cherry lipstick. He was tasting the lipstick of her lover, Yvette, but had no clue. He just licked and sucked and wanted this moment to last forever.

Janet grabbed the back of his head and pulled her up to her mouth for a long, exotic kiss.

My tongue was just in her pussy, and now it's in her mouth, he thought. It was a revelation in erotic that he thought only happened in XXX movies.

"Fuck me," Janet breathed as she reached down and unbuttoned his fly. She pulled his T-shirt up and over him, and held onto his cock. The first time a woman had. He shuttered in pleasure and apprehension.

"Condom. I need a condom," he said.

"It's alright," she said. "I'm on the pill."

He looked down as his cock slipped slowly into Janet's wetness. She wasn't on the pill, but he never knew any different. His eight inches pressed all the way inside as she moaned in pleasure. Her fingernails held onto the storage box as she spread her legs to welcome in this lover. He stood up and held onto her knees as he fucked her. He felt like a minor god as Janet encouraged him.

"Feels so good," she said. "I love your cock."

It was words he thought were only said in pornography. He loved hearing it aloud, hearing it directed at him.

She bucked her hips down on him and drew him deeper inside by guiding his hips with her ankles. Her breasts recoiled as his hips slammed against hers. She bit her bottom lip and slid two fingers along the misty lips of her pussy, adding to the sensation of his naked, throbbing cock.

"Cum inside me," she said.

He didn't need much time, and not much encouragement either. He burst inside the stripper, his first time cumming inside a woman. He nearly blacked out in pleasure, but instantly felt a shadow of guilt envelop him. He was cheating on his virgin girlfriend. And this moment of pleasure was going to cause decades of pain.

Martin looked at the younger one as he drooled at the stripped stripper on the dance stage. He couldn't let that moment of pleasure happen. He grabbed him by the shoulder and said "Time to go, my friend," he said to his younger self. Marty was confused but followed Martin out.

"So, what was that about?" the younger version said.

"Marty, you should know that, in 1989, you stayed here longer. Watching her and flirting with her," as they exited Dazzlers.

As they were, Janet's steroid boyfriend showed up and stood outside smoking a cigarette. He overheard the duo talking.

"I had sex with Janet down near Monroe Lake," Martin told Marty as Marco -- a bit moody from his extra steroids -- listened. He glanced at the two who weren't looking his way. He was enraged but decided to take in the information. He wanted reason to kick her ass -- and this old man.

Marco wanted to think he was just talking, but how would he know Candy's actual name was Janet?

"Trust me," Martin told his younger self, "you love having sex with Janet, but it's not worth it. Just remember how she loved your cock freshman year. That's the only sex you get to have with her."

"Well, OK. That's a bit of a bummer."

"I'll explain more later," Martin said. "It's something we need to talk with the Victoria's about."

Marco had thought about seeing Janet at work. In 1989 -- at this day in place at this moment -- he had decided to hunt down a girl he'd seen on campus. But in this new time, he was angry. He'd seduce that girl, whether she wanted to be seduced or not, and then kidnap the woman of this guy who'd fucked his girlfriend. He'd prove his point.

It was steroid wisdom, and Marco was following it.



A Matter of Time Ch. 07



Victoria was a virgin who feared touch, much less sex.

Vicki was a vamp who needed touch, and often sex.

The two walked in the shadow of College Mall and the new Lazarus store on the west side of Bloomington.

By 2023, this was all gone, the older Martha realized. It began with the fires of 2018 that swept through much of the area, and the F-5 tornado 10 months later -- in the spring of 2019 -- that vaporized much of this area. In her time, College Mall was now a large park with a small memorial, along with small plots of farmland that students rented out to grow fruits and vegetables.

But in 1989, it was still College Mall. Vicki took her younger virgin version into the facility and meandered with her. They went to the food court area and chatted. The virgin looked at the vamp and smiled.

"So, I marry Marty and live happily ever after?" Victoria asked. "And then he figures out how to go back in time?"

"Well, you're two-for-three. Happily ever after takes about two decades to figure out. But, if Martin and Marty are staying out of trouble like they're supposed to today, things should be easier."

Victoria wasn't sure what to ask, or how.

"Listen," Vicki said, "Marty's human. You're human. As a couple, we love each other forever. But there are moments in time when we both screw up. Him first, you later. And it damages life. We're here to help avoid those moments."

The virgin listened, and wasn't sure it was a great idea.

"Isn't it a bad idea to mess with time?" she said. "I mean, we're together and obviously smart and ... changing the world. Why risk changing things?"

The vamp took in the conversation. She understood the concerns. There were months of discussion on the impacts of time travel and what they could, and couldn't, do. Their mission was top secret and they counted on their younger selves to keep quiet. They'd already mentioned the rules. They could talk quietly about it, even in public, if they wanted to, but had to not say anything to anyone else.

"We had to pull a lot of strings to get this as our first mission. And even the president doesn't know the full extent of our experiment. It really is about us meeting us and only generating a few changes to see how it impacts us. This isn't about changing the world; it's about seeing how we can make changes.'

"But doesn't a small change ... can't that have a big impact?" her younger self asked.

"In theory. That's why we are the Guinea pigs. Martin understands Marty more than anyone. And I understand us."

But the virgin was still thrown back.

"What happens that damages us so much?"

The memory was now a shadow. It was the time that had passed and -- was it the fact that it hadn't happened? It seemed like a dream more than a memory now. Had Martin pulled Marty from making the first mistake? Fucking the stripper.

It seems he had. An hour ago, it was a vivid memory ... how he had to admit to it when Janet showed up at their apartment talking about pregnancy. How they kicked her out and how, three days later, her obituary was in the newspaper after she intentionally inhaled too much alcohol and barbituates.

A decade later, after repairs from those disastrous moments were nearly complete, they'd learn about the small STD that Janet gave Marty which, in turn, he gave Victoria on their wedding night.

STDs, the currency of sex.

But was it gone? Was her body strong? Vicki couldn't tell. She knew by avoiding the woods on campus today, she would avoid the man who raped her as she as Victoria Church.

She no longer had memories the cancer treatments a decade later. They had faded like the memory of Marty's admission. But the days of rape recovery -- at least the physical aspects of it -- played in high definition in her memory. They would change that tonight.

Vicki exhaled. She was confident in the plan. It would happen when she was supposed to be walking to her evening biology class that started at 6 p.m. Time travel had a positive aspect. Good people could travel back in time and stop evil. First this rape and Marty's mistakes. Maybe next, Hitler.

She didn't know how to express her happiness, but she was thrilled. Her husband was a genius and her younger self was going to be safe. She wanted to make love to her husband in celebration. She wanted to enjoy an orgasm on her own. Vicki, the vamp, was horny.

What her poor virgin version was missing.

"Victoria, let's go for a walk. I need some air," Vicki said, smiling in her thoughts. She had a plan.

The two exited the Lazarus doors and began walking south on the clear September day. It was a high of 76 today, with a cool breeze pushing from the north. Their hair whipped over their faces as they chatted and strolled.

Vicki knew what would pique her younger self's interest. Something she wouldn't openingly talk about for years, but thoughts that were often with her.

"Where are we going," the younger one asked.

"Down to Graduate Degrees," the 55-year-old said nonchalently. Graduate Degrees was a higher-minded version of an adult book store, with toys and videocassettes of pornography.

"Why would I want to go there?" Victoria said.

"Well, I can't vouch for you, but I'm horny today."

Her younger self hated being embarrassed, especially by someone she knew well.

The vamp stopped and held the hands of the virgin.

"Listen, Victoria. I'm you and you're me. I was there when you first hit a three-pointer in eighth grade. I was there with you in every moment in time. And it's OK to be honest with me, because you're just being honest with yourself. And that's important."

"OK," Victoria said, not entirely sure she trusted the situation. It was still too bizarre. But she had been more horny than normal the last few hours and hadn't been sure why.

Vicki closed her eyes, taking in the new memories. She hugged her younger self closely.

"You're horny. It's OK. You'll feel this a lot in life. Remember watching your sister make love to her husband?"

"Yes." How could she forget? It was sick and beautiful and romantic and perverted. To see her pure sister positioned by a man, even her husband, was a violation in Victoria's mind. To see her scream a few times and then smile in ecstasy wasn't logical. And then, watching a few minutes later from the cracks of the closet, to see her shake and tremble and scream as her husband pounded into her like a jackhammer on fresh pavement, was exciting and terrible and ...

Sinful.

But her sister was loving it. Was asking for it. "Harder! Hard! Fuck me harder!" she screamed. Victoria's memory was burned with that image. Wanting sex that much must be a sin.

And they walked up to the store where sin was in. Graduate Degrees: An Adult Book Store for the Higher Mind.

"I don't think..." she said.

"Of course you can," her older self explained. "It's natural. This is just the basics. This is fucking, which is fine once in awhile. But what you and Marty have, we have making love. It's all good, but making love is more real than what you'll see in here. But you shouldn't fear it."

The women walked in. The younger one looked around in wonderment and embarrassment. The older looked around in curiosity and appreciation. Aisles of videotapes and toys, with walls plastered with pictures of the newest stars of pornography. Peter North was featured as an "Up and Cummer." "Cumming Soon, 'Porn of the Fourth of July'" another poster noted. Back when adult movies had a semblance of plot, which nonetheless was usually ripped off from an actual mainstream film.

Vicki snickered. "Porn of the Fourth of July" was just too funny a title, even if the actual Oliver Stone movie was a sobfest of war and the hell it brings. She thought about the Peter North of her era, known for his latest string of movies, "Senior Citizens Vs. College Seniors." He was 65 and still thrilling audiences -- and surprising young women -- with his pop shots.

Victoria couldn't imagine why people would want to use such things on a body. There was something called a "pocket pussy" for men and all sorts of toys for women. Penis-shaped rubber and plastic devices that somehow were supposed to provide pleasure. Some had two tips, which frankly horrified her with the plausible implications.

She looked, shyly, as three men watched the younger and older women. They could be aunt and niece; mother and daughter; or a May-December lesbian relationship. All of which were pretty hot and kinky in their minds.

Vicki, the vamp, smiled at the attention. She loved showing herself off, even if most younger men paid less attention to her nowadays. She was horny and hadn't packed her favorite toy -- a vibrator perfected in 2020. The Lover 2K20 swelled in motion with a woman's body and included a true-skin feel and a blast of environmentally safe, vagina safe imitation cum that injected as the toy sensed its user was achieving an orgasm.

For today, she'd have to accept a battery operated boyfriend for herself and her younger self. Sure, she could wait for her husband, but he never minded when she enjoyed her body. He loved her stories of masturbating in near public or complete privacy.

Vicki grabbed a small, thin vibrator with a clit stimulator. It was purple and looked like it would do the trick. She read the back and grabbed a batteries to go with it. She also grabbed a video tape copy of "Hot In The City" with Christy Canyon and Peter North. So much different than watching adult entertainment in 2023, but she'd gone back in time, so she was dealing with ancient history.

"I'm ready. Are you?" Victoria asked her younger self. She'd been in the store for seven minutes and was a mix of terrified and horny. She wasn't sure what was going on.

"Um, yeah," the virgin confirmed.

"The boys are going to be gone for a few more hours," her older self said after she paid for the products and they were placed in a black plastic bag -- another item she never saw in 2023 since they'd been banned by United Nations edict in 2019.

They walked out of Graduate Degrees and headed west passed Bryant Park and north to Victoria's apartment. The younger version hadn't done this much walking in a long time -- a three hour hike in the city, total. Her legs ached a bit as she found her futon and looked at her book bag, wondering when she'd do her biology homework. Meeting her 55-year-old self had put a delay in her studies. She doubted her professor would understand.

Her older self felt good. She ran seven miles a day for the last 12 years and the hike was a good replacement. She looked at her younger self and felt a bit guilty. But she was also disappointed nobody ever approached her with the concept of the sensual life. Marty was always too shy and her friends were always too scared of the consequences. And her family, well, sex wasn't discussed. It was sin. You might as well start a talk that said "I really enjoy lying and cheating on my homework. It makes me feel good."

"Feeling alright?" Vicki asked as she joined her on the couch.

"Yes. Just. Well, just a bit overwhelmed by everything," she said. "Why do you ... when do I become so interested in ... in things sex."

"Well, in about 20 minutes if things go right," Vicki said. "But, in my life, I didn't discover it for about another dozen years. I was scared and ashamed for a long time. But one of the reasons we're here is to avoid a few tragedies that both struck you and Marty today -- and they really affected your thoughts on sex."

"What were they?"

"There is a man who attacks you in about three hours while you're walking to biology class. He rapes you. It's awful. But, what's almost worse, is Mom and Dad blame me -- blame us. They ask us what we're wearing. And then they learn we are living with Marty and pretty much disown you."

It was a shocking revelation. Her first time wasn't with her husband, but some random man who just growled "Say 'fuck me Marco,' bitch. Say 'fuck me Marco' bitch" over and over again while she tried to scream and bite through a thick jacket sleeve. She never saw him clearly as he ravaged her for an hour, and he was never caught. Police said Marco probably wasn't his real name anyway, just a perverted persona who was so violent with her that he killed her womb.

"Wait," the virgin asked. "When do I get to talk to my mother again?"

The vamp exhaled. "She disowned us after the rape. I never was able to talk to her again. She died ... well ... let's just say Mom died a while back, and she'd never forgiven me for being a tramp -- which, you know, we aren't. We love Martin and really only want him in our life."

"So..."

"No. Your parents don't attend your wedding. Nobody does. It's just you and Marty. In some ways, it is the saddest day of your life. In many ways, it is the happiest. Maybe we can change things and have that fairy tale wedding, but not in the current timeline."

Ridiculous. I get raped and I get blamed, the virgin thought. How backwards is that? That is Old Testament babble that was washed away with the Blood of Christ. I am good. I am a sinner, but I am good, she thought. She was angry.

"It's OK," Vicki said. She gave her younger self a long hug, something she wished she'd experienced more in life. Hugs from others. "Sit back," she said as her older self positioned herself on the couch -- spread eagled like she'd been a few days earlier fucking her husband in this exact place. She pressed her thumbs into her virgin self's shoulders.

"That feels good," her younger self chirped, enjoying the physical pleasure after the emotional pain of a few moments prior.

"Trust me, me, it only gets better," Vicki snickered.

She rubbed her shoulders and scratched down the back of her spine. As she did it, she felt the new memories of these moments flooding in. It was interesting and something to document. Some new memories had already faded, like walking to College Mall. But some were vivid ... like the fear of walking into Graduate Degrees and the feel of her hands on her back.

"I want you to relax with me, OK?" she said.

"I think I already am," Victoria replied.

They were the same size in all aspects, the same bra, the same height, the same eye color -- the same person 35 years apart. Vicki closed her eyes and remembered how horny she was now. And she was as well. She'd had a few lesbian experiences when she opened up about her sexuality in her mid-30s. But she wasn't sure what this was.

Was this a lesbian experience, or simple masturbation, or mutual masturbation, or sex education?

She stood up and grabbed the black plastic bag, pulling out the video and ripping it from the packaging -- pressing it inside the VCR. She hadn't used one in 29 years, but it was like riding a bike. She remembered the machine and the TV. 

The virgin sat nervously but had become curious. Even horny. And it was OK. She was with herself, by herself. She wondered why she suddenly felt more at ease with another person in the room than she ever did alone in the shower when these thoughts crept into her mind.

The vamp moved slowly but confidently. Horny. And that was OK. She was teaching herself what she didn't previously know for another dozen years. She felt at ease with the moment, like she had when Drew had given her a weekend pass to fulfill her lesbian curiousities.

The movie began playing, with a word of warning about sexual promiscuity and why to practice safe sex. It was 1989 at the height of fears of AIDS, and even dirty sex was attempting to be cleaner.

And then, the fucking film began.

The virgin watched the screen like she had her sister through the closet door. Her head down, her eyes up, her curiosity piqued, her shame real.

The vamp positioned herself behind again, rubbing Victoria's lower back and then her sore thighs. Youth leaned back into age. Worry became supported by maturity. She felt her own breath on her neck and felt wetness without regret awaken her womb.

"What do I like?" she asked.

Vicki smiled. "Oh, pretty much everything. You like sex in public. You like sucking cock. You're not into anal, but neither is Marty."

"Sucking ... a penis?"

"Say it. Say 'sucking cock.' Don't let the words control you. Control the words."

"Cock."

Her older self laughed.

"Say 'I like sucking cock.'"

"I don't know."

Fair enough. She shouldn't push herself. It was another aspect of sex she wouldn't try for six years into their marriage -- until Martin one night suggested 69ing as a way to enjoy orgasms without the pain that sometimes accompanied strong sessions of sex. The scar tissue from the rape and STD Marco had pressed into her in those evil moments.

"I'll show you what you like," Vicki said, taking off her blouse and sitting in a loveseat. Her supple breasts still looked healthy for 55. Her tummy taunt from the years of running and health food. I look good at 55, the 20-year-old virgin thought. Darn good.

The images of the video were almost out of focus to her eyes. A decade of Real Color and 3D television put VHS images on a standard definition TV to shame. Still, she liked watching people fuck, and Peter North was starting to fuck the 36DD breasts of Christy Canyon.

She felt her body was still intact. Not taken from her in that awful rape. She was wet and didn't care. She was with herself. And she knew how to love herself.

She pulled down her khaki shorts and kicked them to the television, falling to the floor and she picked up her bag from Graduate Degrees. She pulled out the vibrator and inserted the batteries as her younger self watched in awe. She was confident, not fearful. She was assertive, not reactionary.

Her younger self looked at her older self in admiration. Her breasts, 34C, were full. There was a faded tattoo along her hip. I get a tattoo? Just like that sorority girl? she thought.

"Here's what you like, Victoria," she told her younger self. "Self-love. It's great." The 55-year-old sat with her legs crossed and turned on the vibrator. She ran it along her neck -- the cock-toy looking like a large purple crayon -- as she brought it to her breasts. She ran it into her bra and her nipples became erect against the fabric. Her panties were wet -- and her younger self could see the situation. She was also wet as she watched a few feet away. She only watched herself and didn't really care about the bodies flopping on the television.

She reached around and unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts to the warmth of the apartment along Henderson Avenue. She loved being naked in here and wished she'd known the freedoms 35 years earlier. She ran the vibrator back along her sensitive nipples and arched her back in pure pleasure. She pressed the vibrator between her breasts like she enjoyed doing while sucked Martin's cock. It certainly wasn't the 2K20 Lover, but having an audience of herself certainly helped the erotic moment.

Vicki exhaled and spread her legs -- pulling her panties off and kicking them toward her bra and shorts. Her private area was clean shaven, her younger self saw. This wasn't her, a razor had never gone near her bikini line. She didn't know how she became so brazen. So ... horny ... but she thought it was intoxicating. Sinful, but so good.

The vamp began sucking on the purple vibrator slowly, the toy bulging against her cheek like Peter North's cock was bulging against the cheek of Christy Canyon on the television.

"The best lubrication," she said to her younger self.

The 20-year-old nodded in agreement, although she didn't know that to be true.

Vicki leaned back far and pressed the toy inside her vagina as she rubbed her clit. She waited until it was all the way in and then looked at her younger self.

"This is where the fun begins."

She turned on the vibrator and her toes curled in pleasure. Her breasts arched toward the ceiling and she lifted her feet off the loveseat.




A Matter of Time Ch. 07



"Take off your clothes," she coached her younger self. "It's just me."

She didn't know that she could, but realized she was already unbuttoning her jeans and kicking off her shoes and socks. This seemed to be another plain of existence -- where old meets young and wisdom is shared. Tragedies, small and large, are corrected.

"Take off your shirt," she coached.

Victoria did. Her young breasts still hidden inside a bra that covered almost all of her orbs. Her panties -- what would become known as granny-panties -- giving no semblance to the sensuality that her body was.

But they were wet between her thighs. Her unshaven bush feeling like sweat had run down her tummy all the way into her groin. She felt desire and curiosity.

Her older self continued to fuck the vibrator. "Watch this as it fucks my pussy. It's smaller than Martin, but it still feels good to be impaled."

"Fucks my pussy...smaller than Martin." Where did she come up with such thoughts and realities? And if it's smaller than Marty, she feared, maybe he was too big.

"He's not too big, silly. He's perfect for you. He makes you cum all the time."

Victoria reached up and cupped her breast above her bra.

"It's OK. Give yourself access. Take it off," her older self coached as she squeezed her own clit quickly. The pinch of pain was pleasure.

Victoria Church, 20, who had not gotten naked for anyone, took off her bra and slipped off her granny panties for Vicki Rochester, 55.

God, I was a beautiful young woman, Vicki thought gazing at herself. This was different than a view in a mirror. This was another self; turned on, curious. Her older self, a vamp of desire, slipped the vibrator out of her pussy, stood up and returned next to her younger self. Their shoulders collided as the 55-year-old bunched up against supple self.

The vamp's legs were spread as she reinserted the buzzing, moist toy; the virgin's legs were clamped as she watched this woman slide the toy inside.

Vicki pulled the vibrator out.

"Feel this," she told her companion, as she ran the purple people pleasure along her right nipple. Heavenly, her younger self thought. She swallowed hard and gulped. Her older self pushed her against the futon and ran the vibrator against her left nipple. Vicki had always been a tad jealous of the porn stars would could suck on their on breasts; now was her opportunity.

She drew in a breath as she licked quietly against her young breasts. Victoria had never had this happen to her before. Marty had only touched her a handful of times and she had him back off. She didn't want to have this happen before. But that was then.

She looked at the woman kissing her chest. She had a small birthmark on her right shoulder; exactly like her own. She had her voice and her body, just older. She knew her past -- and future. Victoria was completely at ease.

She looked as the hand with a gold wedding band on her ring finger touched her knee and spread her legs. Vicki leaned back and wrapped her right leg around her 20-year-old self's left knee. She leaned against her and whispered in her ear.

"Touch yourself. Explore yourself."

Victoria, in a high of wonderment, looked down at her breasts and nipples. Her left nipple, wet with the dew of her own mouth 35-years older. Her right nipple, moist with her own juices.

Vicki deftly returned the vibrating toy back into her pleasure and arched her back to accommodate the sensations. She inhaled deeply as she watched her younger self explore. Her hands caressed her nipples and breasts slowly. Her fingernails tickled her own tummy and thighs. She was wet, and she was not afraid. She was turned on, and she was not ashamed.

She pulled back her tuft of public hair and glazed at her vagina and clitoris. It had a purpose. It had a meaning. And it had a benefit. It felt warm, wet. It felt good as she slowly rubbed it. It was the first time she'd preverted her body in such a way, and she did it cautiously at first. She didn't want to be gross, but she also wanted to know.

"Good, good," Vicki softly praised. Her head was exploding with new memories of this event as she also enjoyed the current input.

Victoria looked at the television screen. The male character, Peter North, was now kissing two women as they were touching each other. It was ... sexy. She thought about Marty touching her. She yielded to her instinct and fanned out her knees farther. Her index and middle finger ran along ripples of wetness at her vaginal entrance. Her fingers had never been here like this. She massaged as her counterpart fucked a vibrator.

Goosepimples invaded her skin, rising like waves on the ocean. And waves ripped the shoreline of her soul inside, her body in ecstasy as she rubbed furiously. Wetness seemed from her vagina.

Her older self smiled as she arched her back.

"It's OK. It's OK to climax," she said, as she enjoyed a small orgasm through her fingers on her clit and the toy in her pussy.

Her younger self couldn't smile, but she arched her back, her shoulders pressing high on the futon. The climax ignited against her clit, firing up her lower back to her spine and neck. Her chest heaved upward as the pleasure exploded in her maidenhood and mind.

"Oh .... my!" Victoria said. Words escaped her as her peak came to an apex and ebbed, slowly. She didn't know what to say.

"Oh, fuck. Yeah," Vicki said, the instant memory flooding into her mind as she came a second time watching her own first orgasm.

They collapsed their legs together and Vicki Rochester leaned into Victoria Church.

"It's OK."

"It's better than OK," she smiled. She'd had an orgasm. She knew they existed. She just never knew she'd have one. 



A Matter of Time Ch. 08



Marty Rochester walked into the apartment with his 55-year-old version in tow. There was something different about the apartment. His girlfriend, Victoria Church, looked ... sated.

She smiled at him and greeted him with a luxurious kiss -- the kind usually reserved for commercials during The Cosby Show.

"We're going to catch my rapist," she said, almost giddy.

Marty was completely confused.

"What?" the 20-year-old genius managed.

Martin knew what happened through his new memories. He didn't know all the details, but he knew Victoria had taken a step into life with a session of mutual masturbation. And she was told of the rape that, now, would never happen. And she was told of the plan to catch the man who brutalized her body 35 years ago this day.

In fact, Marco -- the man who raped Victoria Church, a virgin college student in 1989 -- was likely already hiding in Dunn Woods near the Indiana University Law School. He'd hidden in the shadows of the Kirkwood Observatory -- that is what Victoria had figured out. He'd attacked her from behind as she walked to her biology class.

In her first 1989, Victoria had no way of fighting. In this new 1989, she did. From her fanny pack, Victoria had given her Volt liner. A thin fabric that women of 2023 wore in bad neighborhoods that -- when grabbed violently -- emitted 50,000 volts. A lawsuit had been filed in 2021 after a woman blamed the company for the shocking of her toddler son, but the company won the legal battle after proving it was a self-defense devise that was only supposed to be wore when a person felt threatened. Not while having tickleathons with 4-year-old children.

Vicki, Victoria and Martin explained to Marty 20 the situation.

"So, wait, you're going to allow yourself to get attacked? I don't like this at all," Marty said.

Victoria was learning her life all over again. She didn't want to be subjected to fear. She didn't want to be subjected to losing her family because their Christian beliefs blamed the victim. She wanted to be strong.

"I'm going to put Marco on his ass. And we're going to put him in jail," the virgin said.

He'd never heard her swear before. What had happened while they were looking at Janet the stripper? He'd learned that on this day in one version of 1989, he'd had sex with the stripper and wasn't home when his girlfriend, Victoria, had to go to class. Otherwise, he might have walked with her and she wouldn't have been attacked. And now, instead of just hiding at home away from the rapist, she wanted to take a chance and apprehend the attacker.

"If he doesn't get me, he'll try to get the next girl," she said.

The plan was explained. The four walked down Henderson to Indiana Avenue and down a hill in front of what would become the Maurer School of Law. It was dusk. The shadows were long and perfect for an attacker. Martin pulled out three pairs of glasses. They looked normal for the year 1989, but they were specially modified night-vision glasses. Marty and Martin watched as virgin Victoria walked away. They were going to cut through the law school into the Dunn Woods. Vicki walked across Indiana Avenue to a pay phone. With her aged hands and young anger, she dialed 9-1-1.

"Yes, hi," she told a dispatcher. "There's a man in Dunn Woods by the law school acting very suspiciously. I think they need police here." She looked at her watch. The attack happened in this minute in 1989. She watched her younger self step into the 50 yards of woods along a brick path. She remembered she was halfway through when the attack happened. She stepped back across and picked up her pace. She didn't want to spook the rapist, but she wanted to look him in the eyes after the shock floored him.

An IU police officer heard the dispatch and was about two blocks away. He started walking toward the woods. It wasn't the first time a creep had crept in Dunn Woods.

Marco saw the girl again. He'd waited here for an hour, but had followed her several times. She looked virginal, but like she wanted to fuck. She was a dirty whore and her cunt needed to be coached... if not destroyed.

He looked around. She was alone in the woods as she walked.

He had no idea Martin and Marty were watching him from behind. He had no idea Vicki was nearby or that a police officer was a block away and walking quickly.

He leaped out from the early fall leaves and went to grab her. He looked at her long red hair as she began to look around. There wasn't fear in her eyes like he'd seen before. She had a ... smirk. She couldn't see him beneath his ski mask, but it was almost like she recognized him. Bitch, smile as I fucked you. Smile as I beat the hell out of your sloppy cunt. Smile as I cut your clit. Smile as I...

Marco grabbed her viciously, but hadn't expected the voltage. The electricity shocked him, setting him tumbling off the young woman and onto the ground. His head thumped hard against the path and into a nearby tree.

"Stay right there!" he heard. Was it the girl? He had to get out of here. Which way is up? His body felt like it was on fire from the shock, his fingers and legs and lips tinkled in pain.

"Stay right there!" he heard. It was the voices of women, and men. Shit, not good. He wanted to fight, but he couldn't figure out where he was.

"Right there! Him! Him!"

"He attacked me! He attacked me from behind!" the bitch said. Who was she talking to?

"Indiana University Police! Stay down!"

His head was heavy like he was drunk on cheap wine. But he knew he wasn't. Leaves were crunching around him as his backpack fell off his body.

"Stay down!" he was commanded. He wanted to fight, but couldn't find his bearings. There would be another day to fight.

"I'm ... I'm down." Marco complied. He opened his hands, spreading his fingers wide. The brass knuckles slipped off his hand, the 50,000 volts burned a scar into his skin where the weapon had been gripped.

"He attacked me," the 20-year-old girl reported. "He grabbed me," Victoria added.

"I saw him," the 55-year-old woman said to the officer. She wasn't going to let this beast get away with it.

The officer's adrenaline was flowing. Several witnesses noticed this guy, and he was wearing a ski mask with a backpack and brass knuckles. A no-brainer, this guy needed to go to jail for processing. For at least battery. Maybe sexual battery. Too bad they didn't catch him in the act of something more violent. The officer snapped handcuffs on the masked man before pulling him up onto his knees and feet.

He pulled off his mask. In the September dusk, he looked a bit familiar to all of them. Victoria and Vicki had seen him before -- looking at her from across a pizza place along Third Avenue. Martin and Marty had seen him as well. Outside the strip club, they'd noticed him in their peripheral vision.

"You!" Marco said seething at Martin. "You fucked my girlfriend! You said you fucked my girlfriend and were going to have him fuck my girlfriend, too!"

"Calm down," the officer said. "You'll be able to write down your version of events at the station. What's in your backpack? Care if I look?"

Marco was feeling steroid wisdom and wanted to kick somebody's ass. He rushed toward Martin as the IU officer was distracted by his chatter on his radio. Marty became protective and leaped into Marco's path. Marco's forehead collided into Marty's face, gashing a long cut along his nose and breaking the fragile bone beneath the skin.

The cop raced behind the suspect and grabbed him by the cuffed hands, placing a knee in his back and kicking the back of his knee, bringing Marco back down to the ground. He wouldn't be getting back up until the cop had back-up. Marty was cupping his hands over his nose, blood streaming like a small stream of red.

"I'm going to kill you," he said, looking up at Martin and Marty. "And I'm going to fuck you," he said, looking at the virgin. She wanted him, he knew it. The vamp held herself from attacking Marco. He was cuffed and dumb. But she couldn't risk going to jail. They had three more days in 1989 before they returned back to 2023.

"Enough!" the cop said, holding him down. Now he was going to add another battery charge, a resisting arrest charge and an intimidation charge to the asshole. He called for backup for a Bloomington police officer to book Marco in.

The older man had been holding his nose like the younger one. There was a significant gash in the younger man's nose; a similar scar on the older man's. They looked like a father and son who had suffered the same injuries, decades apart.

"Oh my God," Vicki said as she held her husband close. "Look at this," she whispered. "An old man with a new scar."

"Felt so weird. Like it's brand new. But like it's almost always been there," he responded.

Victoria rushed to her savior, Marty. She didn't know what they were talking about -- about the older man fucking some girl. But Vicki didn't seem freaked out by it, so she decided she didn't need to be. Not yet, anyway. She had to take care of her boyfriend whose nose had been bashed.

As they police car arrived and the cuffed suspect was put in the backseat of the car, the officer opened up the man's backpack. It was a vicious rape kit, with strong tape, a binding and nylons. There was a homemade torture devise -- a battering ram that Vicki now vaguely remembered being used to strike her abdomen. It had destroyed her uterus.

But she felt her uterus was still there. The future was now the past.

What were the odds Marco was the boyfriend of Janet? Not one in a million, but definitely one in a lot. The two couples, old and young, looked at one-another. Time had been slightly changed. A day of cheating. An evening of hell. They were silent with one-another. It was a time of celebration. A time of confluence. A time of quiet.

They gave their statements to the officer. The older couple gave false names, but got their statements on the record. Hopefully, police would be able to connect Marco to other crimes and he'd be in prison for a long time.

Marty refused medical attention. He just wanted to walk to his favorite eatery with his girlfriend and their future selves. They sat quietly eating, taking in the events. They all felt heroic, but thrown off. It was a stressful day, rearranging time. Avoiding sex. Avoiding rape. Being attacked and having a scar to show for it. The bridge of Marty's nose was gashed, but he didn't care. He slowly ate a cheeseburger and was pleased with his reaction. Even if it looked like his scar would never heal.

"So, what will really push me into time travel?" he quietly asked his older version.

"Oh, an experiment that you do at CERN."

"CERN?"

"Yes. It's a super collider in Switzerland."

"We're going to Switzerland?" Vicki asked Victoria.

"Yes. And he's a super collider in Switzerland," she snickered. "He's always turned on when he's right. And he's also romantic."

Marty was awestruck by the horniness in his girlfriend and his future wife. Talking about sex in public. But he liked it. He wanted to time travel and do other cool science things ... but he also wanted to cum today. He'd heard enough about the sex he never had with Janet -- a stripper known as Candy -- and he figured Vicki and Victoria had been talking about sex today, just because they still were.

"Anyway," Martin said, "you'll figure it out by checking the pulses of a black hole near V 4641. That's not found for another decade, though. Anyway, by using those details, you're able to solidify the theory and design FluX."

"FluX?"

"Foreign Light Unlimited, Experimental. Time is like waves of light, and we can surf it by using reflections of time off V 4641 with our own solar system. We sent rubber ducky encased in concrete encased in a metal case back to the near the top of Pikes Peak in Colorado to the year 2,000 B.C. We buried it nine feet down. We found it in 2022 and carbondating showed it had been there about 4,000 years. But we'd only let it go a day earlier."

"Wow," Victoria said. She was loving all the science talk, even though she wasn't sure how it worked.

"FluX is our surfboard," Vicki said, holding out the device. "Literally, we can pinpoint a time and place and go to it," she said. This was just their first endeavor, but many more would come after it, they realized. Maybe they'd go into the future to see what the work was like in 5,000 years; or maybe go back to meet Einstein or Jesus or Buddah.

They left, with the older couple getting a cab back to their hotel room and the younger couple returning to their apartment.

"Thanks for helping save me," Victoria said as they walked in.

"You're crazy, Victoria," he said. "I'm just glad that guy was brought down by that energy jacket. Guess our children will have it easier against predators."

Our children. We would have children, Victoria thought. She loved the idea. Why was it the older couple hadn't had children? A few reasons, all physical. The rape severally damaged her womb; the quiet STD severally damaged Marty's sperm count. But both had been avoided.

She wanted to be with the one she loved. The virgin turned around and gave him a hug. His nose and eyes were a bit bruised. His wound still fresh but no longer bleeding. He looked rough. He looked

Sexy.

She gave him a long kiss and pressed him against a wall. He wasn't sure what she was doing. But she didn't like not-knowing and barely talking anymore. She wanted to be open about her thoughts and about his desires.

"We're not having sex tonight," she said.

"OK," he acknowledged.-- not really expected they would.

"But I want to see you. I want you to see me," she said. She took off her jacket and threw it on the ground. Usually she put her coat in the closet. She was acting different, but not wrong. Just a bit ... hot.

"What did you and Victoria do today?"

"Sex stuff," she admitted. "I touched myself."

Her shirt showed off her curves; at least he was noticing them now. She kissed him on the neck, something she hadn't done before. Victoria led him into their living room. It was warm from when Vicki turned up their thermostat earlier to stay warm while they masturbated and watched the pornography.

"I want to see your body," she said. "All of you. Take off your clothes, Marty."

He smirked, then complied. He wished he'd worn something sexier today. He pulled his T-shirt off and slowly unhooked his jeans.

"Ladies first," he smiled.

She didn't hesitate. She pulled her shirt off and unclipped her bra. Her 34C breasts revealed to Marty's eyesight. His cock filled with anticipation, hardening in his underwear.

No sex, no sex, no sex, he thought. He wanted sex.

She went to the couch and sat down, pulling off her pants. She followed that by pulling off her socks and spreading her legs.

"I want to watch you. I want to watch you cum," she said.

This won't take long, Marty thought. He hadn't masturbated since yesterday morning -- and he was very turned on. He could see her panties were wet where her pussy hid. He wondered what she would allow. He wanted to not cross any lines, but he definitely wanted to find them.

She pulled down her panties, and Marty saw the lips of her pussy as she kept her legs wide. Her soft red pubic hair hid her clit and capped her passion. She slipped two fingers into her mouth and pulled them out, bringing them down to her vagina.

"The best kind of lubrication," she said, evoking a life lesson of a few hours earlier.

Marty felt a little faint, but decided he didn't want to black out for this moment in life. He watched as Victoria sat down in front of him, her legs spread. He looked in her eyes, and looked down at her legs and her pussy.

Victoria slipped her first finger inside her body, arching her back, and then bit her lip as she sank her middle finger into her to her second knuckle.

Their breathing was accelerated like engines coming to life at the Indianapolis 500. Drew got naked, pulling the waistband of his tighty-whities down his hips and, lastly, over the bulge of his rigid penis -- pointing to her like a compass arrow to the North Star.

She didn't touch him. She just looked. She just smiled.

"What do you ... how do you ...?"

"I just ..."

Marty began pulling slowly at his cock. He was scared and thrilled. He feared she'd walk out of him in a moment out of disgust. He hoped she'd spread her legs and continue playing with herself in a moment of horniness.

"Very ... interesting," Victoria said as she spread her legs far and bore her two fingers inside herself. Her thumb haloed her clit slowly as she watched her boyfriend -- future fiance -- future husband -- enjoy himself.

She took her hand and played softly with her breasts.

"Kiss me. Just here," she said, offering her nipple to Marty. He leaned forward and touched her breast with his lips and tongue, softly caressing and enjoying the intoxication of his mind. He licked and nibbled, looking down between them to see her hand quickening its pace as he did. He pulled harder at his cock, precum sweating from the head of his penis.

He leaned back, jacking his cock and his head craning backward. Victoria pulled her fingers from her vagina and ... leisurely haloed his cock with her hand.

"You're leaking," she said seeing the clear precum percolating to the surface of his cock's head.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"I didn't know," she said.

"It's normal," he said. "I hope," he added with a giggle.

He didn't know what she was going to do. In his head, he hoped she'd take his cock in her mouth. Or she straddled him with that virgin pussy. Or she pulled him to completion. She gently tugged on his erection, leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

"Marty, I don't know what I'm doing. But I want to see you ... see you have an orgasm. Can you show me?"

Sure, it wasn't a blowjob or handjob or intercourse, but it was hot nonetheless. He began moving his hand furiously, the slight slickness of her juices helping to lubricate just a bit. It was more mental than physical, but it was good.

Victoria moved back a few inches and watched as Marty elongated his erection with each and every pull. From their neighbor's apartment, they heard the song "When I See You Smile" by Bad English coming from B-97. Some nights, she played the music too loud, but it was good background noise for this moment.

Victoria smiled. Marty smiled. And Marty contorted his smile into a grin of pleasure.

"Cum ... for me," Victoria said, exhaling loudly as she did.

Marty enjoyed the command and pressed two fingers between his balls as he jacked. Here it is. Here it is, he thought. He looked at Victora and inhaled, wondering where his explosion would land. He looked down at his cock and knew the ejaculation was rocketing through his system....

"I am," was all he could manage as he began spurting from the head of his cock streams of bright white cum, erupting from his volcano onto the rises and hills of his future fiancee's skin. It flowed like the heat of lava onto her breasts and tummy and into the fields of her public hair. She giggled as she watched a pieces of life she'd never seen fall onto her. She could tell -- when she watched her sister and her husband -- that they had both had orgasms. But she'd never seen it.

She'd never felt its warmth as it jetting onto skin. Or how it quickly cooled like lava under an ocean. Victoria leaned up and kissed Marty, playing with the cum with her fingers that had been rubbing her breasts. She didn't want to mix his cum with the fingers that had been inside her. It was probably not possible, but she didn't want to get pregnant that way.

His penis was waning, postcum leaking white from the tip of it. Victoria played with the head of his penis with her thumb, pulling more cum from the tip unintentionally. It was fun, playing with a body. Seeing what happens to it.




A Matter of Time Ch. 08



They kissed and Marty used his T-shirt to wipe the cum from Victoria's breasts and tummy. He watched as she continued to twirl her clit and pussy, captivated by the beauty of her body as she arched to the sky like a gymnast as her second orgasm of the day arrested her. She gasped as he watched her body convulsed quickly, her nipples erect. Marty kissed her neck as she felt the satisfactions annex her normally stressed body.

The couple laid on their futon where their 55-year-old selves enjoyed hot sex just a few days earlier. And now, they enjoyed their first sexual experiment together.

Marty looked at Victoria.

"Marry me," he said.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I think that's going to happen."



A Matter of Time Ch. 09



Amber, a neighbor who lived next to Victoria Church and Marty Rochester, was pretty sure B-97 had played "When I See You Smile" 19 times in the last two hours, but it was a popular song.

She tried to smile through the cock in her mouth, looking up to a lover named Jason. Or was it Jimmy? She really wasn't sure. She'd met him at the IU Bookstore a few hours later and he seemed cute enough. And he'd made her laugh.

Amber, who Vicki and Martin Rochester knew would die in a three-car wreck on Interstate 40 near Memphis in 1998 in a triple fatal wreck killing a scientist and a minister, ran her tongue along Jason-Jimmy's erection and spread her legs. 

But it was 1989, and Amber didn't know of her time-traveling neighbors. All she knew was she wanted love, and had found some lust along the way.

She teased her wetness as two fingers launched an invasion on her clit and pussy. She loved how men became harder as she played with her trimmed pubic area and inside her cunny. She slurped on Jason-Jimmy's heat and anticipated him fucking her. She hadn't been laid in a few days, although she'd sucked enough cock that it seemed like she should have been.

"Yeah, you're a dirty bitch," Jason-Jimmy pronounced as he fucked Amber's face. "Fucking little slut."

A part of her was turned on. She liked men feeling powerful. A part of her was turned off. She wanted to be called beautiful, even with a cock in her mouth. Especially with a cock in her mouth.

But she hoped Jason-Jimmy would call her beautiful as he began fucking her in just a few minutes. They could find love together in sex and lust and smiles. "When I See You Smile ..." just like the song.

Jason-Jimmy started grunting. She'd only been sucking his cock for a few minutes but, alas, he was on the cusp.

She pulled his cock from his mouth. "No, not yet," she asked.

"Bitch, suck it. Suck it all out now!"

Amber accepted her fate. He'd seemed like a nice, funny, sexy frat guy. Now, he was just a man about to cum. She inhaled his hardness deeply as she felt the 5 inches of penis shaking and erupting into her mouth in two heavy jets of orgasm.

"Mmmmmm.... yeah, swallow, slut."

She had every intention, until he called her a slut. She pressed the cum out of the back of her throat onto Jason-Jimmy's rapidly softening penis, coating it with the white mucus of lust.

"Gross, slut," he said. "That's nasty." He besmirched her in his tone and laughter. She wished she'd not said hi to him. He grabbed Amber's favorite bra, a 34B top that nicely displayed her 36C chest, and wiped his cum off along it. 

Jason-Jimmy pulled up his tight buttonfly jeans and pulled his Izod shirt back over his chest. "Nasty bitch, thanks for everything," he said. He walked out of her apartment without offering his number or a handshake.

Amber hated herself in these moments. She felt like this anytime she had sex with Owen down in Memphis. He'd been her high school basketball coach who was married to a former player. But -- the summer before she started at IU -- he'd seduced her while she was working at a ribs joint. Sure, he was married with three kids, but he was always nice to her and had said they could be a couple in a few years -- when the kids were old enough to understand divorce.

She wiped off the excess cum from her chin. She wondered about love. There was Danny, who joined the Army and was stationed in Germany. They were best friends forever and ... maybe ... that was actual love. She loved getting his letters in the mail and she regularly sent him some as well.

Owen was close to home, even if he was far from her heart. Danny was the opposite. He'd signed up for four more years. Maybe after this enlistment was up, they could become a couple. That was years away, though.  Amber ran the bath hot and took off her socks. She pulled an orange dildo out from a hidden spot in her bathroom cabinetry and grabbed some K-Y jelly with it.

Amber was a beautiful girl; standing 5 feet 7 inches with long, straight brown hair and possessed green eyes. Her body would be envied by many models for the fullness of her breasts and curves of her hips.

She slowly assailed her pussy with the dildo, her legs and hips rising out of the water. She lifted her legs out as she felt the toy slip past her lips and deep into her heat. Amber quickened her pace of the assault on her body -- an invasion of pleasure into the borders of her cunt. Her wrist knew the movements that would lead to her surrender. 

She tried to imagine how her lovers would treat her. She thought about Jason-Jimmy cumming in her mouth and leaving -- it didn't turn her on. She thought about Owen bending her over and slapping her ass while he fucked her, his left hand -- with his wedding band on it -- pawing her left breast as he owned her. She fucked herself faster thinking of the sin. Then she imagined being with Danny; the boy she knew, but not in a Biblical way. She wondered what he would be like if he made love to her.

She grunted audibly as the warm water splashed her body, waves washing upon her breasts as she masturbated. Choosing between lust and love was never easy. But, right now, her body was. Lubricated initially by the K-Y, her own juices were slickening the walls of her cunny now as she advanced the invasion of her body.

Her nipples hardened, her back arching, Amber began a long, sustained orgasm of surrender onto the dildo. She fucked herself hard through the pleasure and squealed in capitulation to the moment.

The stress was broken. Her body was appeased. She languidly ran her bath loofah along her belly and over her breasts. She wanted a lover to touch her like this. Slowly. All day.

After a while, she got out of the tube and dried off. She rinsed off her dildo, dried it off and hid it again.

She decided to get her mail downstairs and put on jeans and a T-shirt for the excursion.

As Amber walked out, she saw Victoria Church and Marty Rochester exiting their apartment -- looking -- requited. They were in love. And they glowed like they'd just made love. If Marty fucked her face, she thought, at least he told her she was beautiful with his cock in her mouth.

Marty and Victoria waved hello and were about to follow Amber down the stairs when their phone began ringing. Victoria walked back into the apartment. She always answered it.

"Hello? Oh, hi Mother," she said. "I was planning on calling you after dinner tonight," she said.

Victoria's family, in Oklahoma, had already eaten. Her mother was sounding perturbed, but Martha wasn't sure why.

"I need to tell you about today," Victoria said. "I was attacked by some man, Mother, but Marty saved me."

Her mother rebuked her on the phone.

"What were you wearing?" she demanded.

"What I normally wear to class, Mother."

"I don't believe you," she said. "The Bible says our punishment is swift. Maybe the attack was your punishment for attending such a liberal school and being such a liberal-minded child."

"No, Mother," Victoria pleaded. "It wasn't that. Marty was nearby and ... he saved me."

"Marty is the one who needs saving," her mother said. "Now, I called to let you know your father has made some decisions. This is your last semester at that so-called school. We have arranged a marriage for you here to Pastor Jebidiah Morris. In the meantime, you will work as his church."

"No, Mother. I can't do that."

"It has already been decided, Victoria. Do not forget your commandment: Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord has commanded," she said, quoting the Old Testament.

Victoria burned within. Vicki talked about a falling out between her and her parents. Maybe it was going to happen no matter what. She started to cry.

"NO, Mother! I want to marry Marty." 

"Listen, you little moll! We didn't raise you to defy your parents or defile the property of your Lord. Your body is not to be touched by a man who is not a man of the Lord. And Marty is unclean! Pastor Morris is -- and he has accepted our offer for you. Now, you have a few more months before you WILL return here and marry Pastor Morris! But your Christmas will be here -- and you will NOT return to that abomination of a city you're in right now!"

Marty had walked back inside and was watching his future wife breaking down on the phone. Tears leaked down from her eyes and her composure was lost. 

She didn't know what to do, but she realized what had happened before. When she told her mother of her rape, she was deemed a whore and not good for Pastor Morris. Her parents had cut her off in shame rather than try to help her in her darkest hours.

And, because of that, there was no objection when she married Marty. She was considered desecrated and worthless.

She wondered if she would ever see her family again.

"Mother," she said. "I love you. I love Father. And I'm sorry, but I am going to marry Marty and make a life with him. Not a minister. I know this is love. I know we're together forever. I know he will stand by me in good and bad times. And, if this is the last time you ever hear my voice, I want my last words to be these: I feel sorry for you and your choices but I love you."

Victoria hung up the phone slowly. She was certain her mother would have a rebuke, but that wasn't what Victoria wanted to hear tonight. Her day had been crazy. She'd masturbated and been attacked by a rapist and played with her fiancé as a naked couple. Losing her family was a terrible way to end the evening, but there is always tomorrow, and time allows for forgiveness.

The two 20-year-olds walked back out of their apartment and began down the staircase as Amber walked up the stairs. The look of love on Victoria's face was replaced with one of humiliation. Amber understood that. The difference between a man fucking your face with a gentle caress of your cheeks saying I love the way you make me feel and a man fucking your face and cumming in your mouth without warning, with a grunt and a demeaning comment.

"You OK?" Amber asked.

"No," Victoria answered as she proceeded down past the neighbor. Outside the glass of the door, she noticed her 55-year-old self standing with her boyfriend's 55-year-old counterpart. 

Vicki looked saddened as the new memories were plugged into her head.

The two women embraced.

"I'm so sorry," the 55-year-old said.

"Do I ever ... get to see any of them again?"

"I don't know," Vicki said. "I know I never did after this day, but I don't know if we can change the timeline -- or if it is just hardwired that we become disenfranchised from Mother and Father."

"We'll figure it out," Marty said.

"Yes. Yes we will," Martin agreed. 



A Matter of Time Ch. 10



Marco was in jail, and Yvette didn't mind that at all. She was pretty convinced he was a sadistic arse, and she liked being able to eat Janet's pussy without worry his steroid-developed body would be walking in mid-munch.

Janet had cried about Marco and his incarceration -- but more for the stress it caused and the fact he'd been accused of attempted rape and battery. Attempted rape? He had a stripper girlfriend and he needed to attack another girl? It didn't make any sense.

She was wearing a purple Dazzler's T-shirt and red panties when Yvette and her heavy breasts showed up at her door. It had started out as a long, sensitive hug after the news had spread about Marco's arrest the day before. But, in the morning sun with a sweet fall breeze meandering through the apartment, the two women began kissing.

"We shouldn't do this," Janet said to Yvette. "I need to concentrate on figuring out bond for Marco. Or bail. Whatever."

"He's an asshole who got himself in this trouble," Yvette said. "He deserves a stay in jail for a day or two."

"It's not simple," Janet said as Yvette pulled their bodies together. "He can help me with rent and stuff. And he ... sometimes I think he loves me."

Yvette was saddened. She loved Janet. She loved her smile. She loved her laugh. She loved her kindness. She loved the taste of her pussy. She pushed through her dejection to find her desire. Yvette softly kissed the younger stripper on the neckline and slipped her fingers up the back of her shirt, her red fingernails gliding against the small of Janet's back.

"Oh, God," Janet signed. She was a sucker for Yvette's fingers on the small of her back. Yeah, Marco was an asshole. That was true. When was the last time he kissed her like Yvette? Ever?

The lips of the girls met softly, like two leafs floating in a quiet September river, colliding together elegantly and staying joined.

Janet let herself go and gave herself to Yvette. Yvette heard the cue in Janet's sigh and led her to her bedroom. She led Janet by the hand and laid her down on her bed. Yvette pulled off the purple Dazzler's T-shirt from Janet's torso and kissed from her neck to her nipples, her fingers dancing along Janet's back.

Janet loved being loved, but wanted to touch Yvette as well. Yvette had pulled off her lover's red panties and began licking along her clit when Janet arched her back and repositioned herself to the middle of the bed.

"Sixty-nine," she said.

Yvette got wet. Even wetter. In their love affair, she'd always been the giver, orally. Janet had never tasted pussy. She'd avoided it. But now, she was asking.

Yvette pushed up from her girlfriend's hips and kissed up her taunt belly, over her tits and back to her mouth.

"Sure?" she breathed.

"I want to taste you as you taste me," she said. Janet pulled off Yvette's AC/DC Who Made Who T-shirt and her jean shorts. Yvette wasn't wearing panties ... her pussy shaved clean in anticipation of a sex morning. She kissed back down Janet's neck and breasts, slowly rotating her body and lifting her knees up and over Janet's head. Yvette gave Janet's pussy a long, lavishing lick before slowly presenting her pussy to Janet's lips. Their breasts meshed together on their chests and abdomens, Yvette's 36D breasts displaced along Janet's tummy. They'd been seen by hundreds, thousands of men, but touched by few. Janet was one of only seven lovers in Yvette's whole life.

Janet's sheets were tumbled over from her restless sleep. Her head rested on some bunched-up red silk sheets and looked up at the shape of her lover's hips and the pussy. She'd played with her body before, but never tasted. She licked her lips in anticipation and craned her neck forward as she felt Yvette kissing her inner hips.

Yvette felt Janet's breath on her clit and looked down, between her breasts, between her legs, to see the woman's tongue rising like a rocket flame toward the Sun. Yvette lowered her hips to help access and Janet began running her tongue along Yvette's taste.

Janet longingly, lovingly, slid into the depths of Yvette's warm cunt. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again to assess Yvette's ass and ponder Yvette's pussy. The taste was sweet -- Yvette's daily dose of pineapple and fruits giving her a decidedly candied warmth. With just the hint of licking a battery's top -- metallic.

As she continued licking, Janet slipped a finger inside her lover. She wondered if this could be love. She worried about being lesbian. So many factors pushed against the idea; culture, her estranged family; her want for children one day. But men were idiots and Yvette was ... love.

She put the thoughts aside and continued her path taken by her tongue and fingers.

"Oh God, babe," Yvette said. Then she began her own assault on Janet. The young women became almost one body, attached in 69. They were linked at their tongues and clits, hands and asses, fingers and pussys. Yvette hadn't been orally pleased in months and was drunk in love and lust.

"Yes...just like that, love. Lick my clit like that. Mmmm ... just a little faster. I'm so close..." Yvette said on the cusp of climax.

Janet took the encouragement and lapped with it, in wonderment about the way she was making Yvette react.

"I want to taste you," she breathed. "I want to taste your cum, Yvette."

Yvette ground her gender quickly along Janet's tongue and began shaking in orgasm -- a powerful quake from her pelvic region through her core.

Yvette thought the last time she'd been this wet, she was swimming in the middle of Lake Monroe, a few miles south of Janet's bed, down Indiana State Road 446 near the Paynetown State Recreation Area.

***

A few miles south of Janet's bed, down Indiana State Road 446 near the Paynetown State Recreation Area, in the middle of Lake Monroe, the Martin and Vicki hosted Marty and Victoria on a rented pontoon boat.

"I don't know why Mother is so flipped out about this?" Victoria said.

Vicki gave her a long hug. She had always loved and honored her mother.

"I don't know," she said. She felt like a mother-type figure in many ways to her younger self. But she didn't know what to do to help.

The mist of Lake Monroe sprinkled along the two couples as Martin, the scientist, throttled down the engine. Marty, the student, looked to the vast forests encompassing Lake Monroe. A causeway with cars zooming through was the one of few indications of humanity in this part of the county.

"So, Martin, do you worry getting into contact with Victoria and I will affect your future? Or the world's?"

"Ah, we have a name for that. Timesuck."

"Timesuck?"

"Yes. But no, the theory doesn't hold a lot of water for me. When we contacted you, we only told you the bare minimum of the immediate future to let you know we are from the future. But, in our psychological experiments, 98 percent of the time, people make the same decisions -- even when they know the results aren't 100 percent agreeable."

Marty laughed.

"So, like the very definition of insanity is how most people respond to situations?"

"If insanity is doing the same thing over and over again getting the same result, yes. Of course, these situations are always tolerable. And we understand that, at this point, we shouldn't try to redo humanity. It is tempting to go back and influence time to destroy concepts of slavery and genocide, but we'll have to be careful about how that affects everything."

Timesuck. To go back into the time waves of the past and crash them -- thus changing what time reaches the shore of the future. It had to be avoided.

It was early September, and most of the visitors of Lake Monroe had returned to their homes in Indianapolis, Evansville and Terre Haute. Their timesuck of the summer was over as they returned to school and work. The pontoon boat was the only boat within a half-mile. A dingy with two elderly fishermen sat idle as they whipped lines in and out of the water.

Vicki took off her beige top and black shorts, revealing a two-piece stripped bikini that showed off her taunt body, her chest freckled with age. She was not shy. She was haunted by memories that were being created, but she wasn't going to change who she was. She knew her mother had scolded her about not marrying the minister and had threatened to cut off contact.

She hoped that would change. She wished new memories would surface. She knew when she returned to 2023, they would be. They had 72 hours until they went to their home. Of course, they were scheduled to return just 30 minutes after they left.

She and her husband had new memories of the day before. They were like a dream that you remember well. Vicki and Martin woke up in their hotel room and cuddled talking about their first time they'd touched one another intimately. It was so much better than their previous first time, a guilt-panged wedding night encounter in a dank, cheap Martinsville, Indiana motel room.

Martin tossed a 15-pound anchor into the lake. They'd drift, but just a bit. He was under the aluminum canopy of the pontoon boat -- the forward section open to the sun. He much preferred his own pontoon boat of 2023. He'd bought it in 2020. It drove like a vehicle from a storage shed to the lake -- the neroplastic wheels slipping into the boat as the pontoons pulled into the water.

He took off his shirt. Like his wife, he was no longer shy about his appearance. He was healthy at 55. Sexually active. Able to please his wife and love her. He walked forward where the younger couple and his wife sat on fabric seats.

"You guys can enjoy some of the weather and sun," Vicki said. She pulled out a sunscreen she'd bought and poured some on her hands. "Come here, hon," she said to Martin.

Vicki rubbed the sunscreen through her hands and fingers. She hadn't had sex with her husband. They slept nine hours in silence, recharging their bodies. But she woke up horny with the new memories of 20, and the hum of the boat's engine under her ass had her in a mood.

She also enjoyed the new memories coming in on her younger self's thoughts. She knew Victoria was upset about her family situation; she also knew the 20-year-old was horny about opening up to her sexuality.

Vicki massaged some sunscreen on her husband, running her fingertips over his shoulders and down his chest in front of the younger couple. Her fingernails lingered over his nipples as she leaned up and kissed him. He felt the upsurge in his loins at her touch.

"Get a room, you two," Marty said, snorting a laugh as he said it.

"No... don't," Victoria said. She wanted to watch them make love. She leaned up against her boyfriend and put her forearm over his trunks, his own penis quickly beginning to harden.

The 55-year-old couple braced themselves against the railing of the pontoon boat and kissed deeply. They nestled against one another as Vicki pushed her husband to a fabric couch five feet away from their younger selves. She giggled as she kissed his neck. She breathed against his Adam's apple -- her 98.6 degrees of breeze heating him from his collar to his cock.

The sunscreen smeared on their bodies ... it was one of the items they brought from 2023. While it protected from the sun, it was also honey sweet to the tongue and non-toxic.

He pulled the string that held together her bikini top and it fell to the boat's deck. He took over and began kissing her body; her chin, her neck, her breasts.

Victoria began caressing her boyfriend, looking up and kissing him briefly then returned her gaze to her older self, being pleased by her husband of 35 years. The man kissed down her belly and pulled off her bikini bottoms. A small tattoo, faded after being a part of her skin for three decades, was visible on the edge of her hip.

As she spread her legs for her husband, she revealed her body was again shaved clean, her husband's tongue licking upwards from her pussy and exposing her clit to the sunshine.

Marty began softly pulling at his girlfriend's breasts, eight fingers gliding along their barely touched surface, his two thumbs rubbing along her nipples under her one piece bathing suit. She was still wearing her jean shorts, but she was spreading her legs slowly as her body became wet to the moment.

She didn't want to lose her virginity in this moment, but she wanted to be sexual. She looked at her older self being licked and adored the scene. Her husband's tongue ravished her vagina. Her hands pulled his head close to her soft spot, her fingers running through his graying hair.

Her honey stirred, she pulled her husband from her clit and pussy and inhaling his kiss. She pulled down his bathing suit and his cock flapped up in the air. She looked at her younger self and winked at her. Victoria pulled down her boyfriend's trunks. The penises were equal in length and hardness.

"Like this," Vicki said as she lowered her face to her husband's cock. She expertly flicked her tongue along the head. "You can just stroke him for now, though," she added -- remembering instantly how torn she was mentally for the moment 35-years earlier.

Victoria pulled -- for the first time -- on a man's penis. She'd watched her boyfriend masturbated the night before ... but this was a new sensation. The swelling in her palm.

"Lick your hand," her counterpart coached as she came up from giving head for a moment. Victoria just wanted her husband's cock hard and wet for fucking; she had no interest in him cumming in her mouth on this occasion.

Both men moaned lowly at the sensations. Victoria obeyed the older one and ran her tongue along her fingers and hands, coating her boyfriend's penis in her lubrication.

She looked at her future as they looked at a new past. She watched as Vicki the vamp -- the 55-year-old without a care -- stood up and mounted her husband's hardness in reverse cowboy. It wasn't her favorite position -- but it was a good one for purposes of exhibitionism and education. His inches quickly disappearing into her body. His hands wrapping around to hold her breasts as she slid up and down on him.

This wasn't like when she'd spied her sister and brother having sex. That felt sinful. This felt beautiful.

Her boyfriend massaged her breasts and slipped a finger into her shorts and felt the wetness of her vagina. It was a first -- a man's warm fingers touching her maidenhood. He pulled off her shorts and pulled her swimsuit aside, the fabric moved away from her virginity.

Vicki clutched kindly to her husband's balls as he apexed into her pussy. His hands traveled from her clit to her belly to her breasts and to her neck, and then traveled back down -- an external visualization of what his penis was doing inside. Massaging her cunt -- from her entrance to her G-spot -- internally like he was caressing her skin outside.

The waves of Lake Monroe had been calm, but now the shaking of the boat pushed them from the pontoons outward. Small ripples from the sex launched toward the shoreline and pushed fish bobbers up and down. Sex impacts everything.

The younger couple leaned against one another and kissed deeply. They saw their future in the present. The love. The accomplishments. The struggles. The sex. Marty whipped his fingertip around his girlfriend's clit. Her neck flexed in pleasure as he did. She kept pulling up and down on his hardened cock -- looking down at it and looking up at the copulating couple a few feet away. She was so wet from everything. Marty's first finger slipped into her tight pussy as she bit her bottom lip.

"Fuck me, Martin. Fuck me hard!" Vicki screamed loud enough for the shore side to hear.

The younger couple ignited at the words. Victoria's first orgasm from a lover's fingers was quick to come and long to stay as she screamed in pleasure. Marty's thumb manipulated her clit as his first finger massaged her pussy. She breathed hard and stretched out her body on the cloth seats.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried.

Vicki took in the new memory of her first orgasm with Marty and rode Martin's cock even harder and faster. She reached down and played with her pussy and clit as well, wanting to cum hard. She put her feet up on his knees and played with her pussy with his hard cock inside her. Within seconds, she was cumming all over his cock as she screamed...

"Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck, yes!" she cried.

The two men had cocks hard for their lovers. The same woman, 35 years apart. The younger kissed his girlfriend and looked in her eyes. She'd seen the look the previous night before he came while they masturbated together. She kept stroking his strong stalk as his sighs shallowed and his seed followed, showering her bathing suit.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck, yes!" he cried.

The older had watched and enjoyed the new memories as well. He knew his wife was teasing the younger couple with her willingness to show off her body -- and his. But now was his turn to cum. He'd held off while the other three climaxed, but he was close.

He pushed his wife off him, onto her knees, always keeping his cock inside her. Her ass jutted toward the sky as he fucked her doggy style. He slapped her backside with his forehand. He felt the physical transformation in his loins, going from excited to no-turning-back with his balls swelling.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck yes!" he flexed as his flow fountained into her once flowering fecund. He loved her and every moment felt like he was still within moments of their first kiss more than three decades earlier. He only wanted to make her feel loved.

The younger couple watched in a little bit of shock and a lot of awe.

"Marry me," Marty said.

"Yes," Victoria answered again. 



A Matter of Time Ch. 11



On top of the Monroe County Courthouse is a fish on a weather vane. It was first created in 1820, but nobody is sure if it represents Christianity, the community's need of fishing on local rivers and lakes when it was young ... or if it is upside down.

Martin, the 55-year-old time traveler, thought maybe this would be a good mystery to find out about next. Just go back to 1820 and ask the creator his reasons for it. And see if it really was put on the latest Monroe County Courthouse upside down.

He looked up to the weather vane as the two couples walked toward the courthouse. They were walking up the hill on 6th Street when he noticed it again for the first time in 35 years. Going from 2023 to 1989 was interesting; going back another 179 would be an adventure. A time before the Civil War; when the area was just being set up.

He and his wife had begun influencing their own life. They'd prevented him from cheating on her; they'd prevented her from being raped. They'd showed their earlier selves how to appreciate communications and making love -- even though they were still virgins.

Not for long, though. They'd decided to get married. It was going to be different than their first wedding ... which was held at a chapel in nearby Paragon by some pastor who told them of the sins of the flesh in a sparsely populated ceremony. He seemed angry about sex... like he hadn't enjoyed it or wanted others to ever enjoy it. The witnesses to their wedding in 1990 included three friends they barely knew, along with their neighbor, Amber.

Amber would be led into temptation, and suck the cock of the pastor a few hours later. She didn't like him, but she liked pleasing men, and it seemed like he needed it.

He'd eyed her as he spoke angrily about how sex was only for making children, between one man and one woman. Amber, who was more of a witness than a friend, undid a button on her blouse and giggled as he stammered through the next two minutes of his sermon.

She didn't like him, but she liked seducing him afterward. She shook his hand after the young couple had walked out of the church. Within seven minutes, the other guests had left, and Amber knocked back on the door of the small house of worship. 

"How can I help you?" he said. But he knew her intentions and he faked anger and dismissiveness.

"How can I help you?" Amber said, unbuttoning another snap on her blouse and pushing him back into the church. He stepped back until his ass was pressed against a pew.

He was 57, and twice divorced. The Holy Bible had taught him his ex-wives were sinners and fortified his ill toward them.

"You are a harlot and a sinner," he said.

"Let's see about that," Amber said. She leaned up and kissed his chin and neck, but not his lips.

"You reek of sulfur, whore of Babylon," he said.

She ignored his pretense. She didn't like him, but sometimes giving head was fun just because it was easy with the clergy. Amber gripped his belt and unstrapped it quickly. His cheap polyester trousers bought through an advertisement in a gun magazine didn't hide his erection. Not that it was an impressive erection.

Amber pulled his pants down, and the minister's tighty-whitey underwear showed the impression of his two-and-a-half-inch hard-on. Amber, who loved sucking cock, hadn't dealt with one this small before. Or old. But she definitely wasn't considering fucking this man. She wasn't even really turned on.

"Stop," he said, as his hands reached down and pawed her breast through her blouse.

"OK," Amber said. She nuzzled the cotton of his underwear then pulled her neck away from his body.

She looked up and grabbed his hand on her blouse, opening up top to him, his calloused hands feeling her bust. He was a sinner, like all others. And the temptation was too much. For him, it didn't take much.

"Please, please me, whore," he said, feeling guilt. But he also felt justified. He worked hard for the Lord most days of the week, and his ex-wives had both left him. He was like Job. Or was it Lot? He wasn't sure. He'd have to look that back up.

Amber giggled a bit. The guy was a whole class asshole, but he was ready for her quickly. "Pull down your underwear," she commanded. The minister complied. She inhaled all of him, her nose tickled by his overgrowth of public hair, black and gray.

His small penis didn't even require much of a gag reflex. Amber clawed the back of the ministers legs as she sucked on his cock and her tongue flickered along his small, tightened corms. The minister held one hand against the back of the far pew, and his other on the fabric of the college student's lacy bra. In 32 seconds of touch, he was already beyond a point of no return.

"Oh, God. Oh, God," he said, looking at the vixen sucking on his penis. He looked up to see the image of Jesus Christ. He was without sin; the minister was not. His erection began to spasm and his spunk gushed into Amber's mouth. Of the cum she'd tasted, it ranked in the lower 10 percent.

But the minister, just for a moment, smiled and laughed and grunted in pleasure.

She stood up, swallowed his seed, turned around and walked back out the door.

He wouldn't know of her again for eight years, when he learned she collided with his son's car on Interstate 40, killing his son and a doctor, along with herself.

It was God's punishment. For her and for him. Evil whore of Babylon, he said in 1998.

Lucky for the minister, the 1990 wedding was now vanishing through timesuck. Eventually, that wouldn't be good for humanity.

***

But now, in 1989, Marty and Victoria were going to make their once simple 1990 ceremony even more basic. It was going to be them, with their older selves, at their favorite place on campus.

And then enjoy a honeymoon in a king size room of the Indiana Memorial Union. Their older selves had already set it up.

Inside the Monroe County Courthouse, under the fish on the weather vane, Marty and Victoria wrote out information for their Indiana Marriage License. The new memories gave another new buzz to the older couple as they reveled in the moments of love, not fear.

Marty, a 20-year-old who'd had sex fewer times than he had thumbs, tried to feign confidence. He was in many ways, still a kid. But he knew a few things -- and he knew he loved Victoria. And he knew they'd always be together. He'd put on his best Levi's jeans, a clean Izod shirt and dabbled on Polo cologne.

Victoria, a 20-year-old virgin, wore a simply white sun dress that draped down to her knees. Her supple breasts were touching the fabric -- on this day she wore no bra nor panties. She wanted to be free to the world on this day.

"Are you ready?" Marty asked Victoria as he gave her the paperwork and pen.

"Yes. I'm ready for us."

"No matter what," Vicki agreed.

The Monroe County Clerk's Office was a place many IU students began their wedded lives, so nobody paid much attention to the two couples that resembled one another -- and were genetic equals. And nobody noticed when a man, who had just posted a $5,000 bail on a $50,000 bond walked out of Monroe County Probation Office across the second floor of the structure and noticed the two couples.

But Marco noticed the two couples that had just put him in jail after he was shocked and dazed by the young woman who he wanted to fuck in the woods.

The young woman he knew wanted to fuck him.

And the old man -- he was the one who had bragged about fucking his girlfriend. He remembered the man clearly as he chatted with the younger shit outside of Dazzler's. He'd gone to see his bitch, Janet, when he overheard the shits talking shit about fucking Janet. That old man bragging he'd fucked her down at Lake Monroe.

Marco fumed quietly, his nostrils flaring. It had been almost three days of jail for him, and his body yearned for heroin. Or a steroid.

Or both.

But right now, he tried to contain his anger. The two couples standing just inside the Clerk's Office door hadn't noticed him. He leaned back against a wall and waited.

The older couple falsified the marriage document. Martin and Vicki, they cared more about the couple than anyone else possibly could. But instead of repeating their own names and signatures, they signed their names as "Harry Potter" and "Lara Croft."

They also concentrated on changing their signatures so they didn't match their own signatures from 35 years earlier.

The worker at the Monroe County Clerk's Office stamped the document and told them it would be in the mail after the necessary blood tests were completed.

The newly engaged held hands as they walked out. Their fingers lingered in their hands. The couple, married 35 years, followed behind them. Their work here was almost done. They were going to use FluX the next afternoon to get back to the year 2023.

In total, they'd been in 1989 for almost a week. But they would return to 2023 just 30 minutes after they'd left. They just wanted to be in Bloomington in 1989 to bring in the new memories of their second first honeymoon. It was going to be so much nicer than their first.

They walked back down 6th Street and -- within 10 minutes -- they were back on campus. It was a quiet day at Indiana University, with students meandering to their next classes. The two couples walked to the Rose Well House, a small structure first built in the early 1900s. Legend has it any couple that kisses at midnight on Valentine's Day will never break up -- and it was then and there Victoria and Marty had their first kiss on their first date about 18 months earlier.

Marco watched from the edge of Dunn Woods as Martin and Victoria took the hands of their younger selves.

"We are always together," Martin said. "Through good and bad, poverty and plenty ... it's us."

"We are always together," Vicki said. "Through pain and pleasure, struggles and smooth sailings, it's us."

The two couples entangled their hands together inside Rose Well House, the autumn winds fluttering along their cheeks as fallen leaves rustled nearby.

"This is our ceremony," Victoria said, instinctively. Sure, there would be a piece of paper in the mail to confirm their vows, but this was most assuredly their vows.

"This is our life," Marty said, looking at his young bride, his older self and future wife.

"We are together, forever," Martin said, giving Victoria his wedding band, originally bought in 1990. She pressed it up her husband's left finger. It was dinged up through time. It fit him -- just a little loose.

"We are going to travel time, in this life and the next," Vicki said, giving her antiquated wedding band to her young husband. He slid it onto his bride's finger gently.

There was silence. This had all been improvised, but all seemed perfect.

They had no idea Marco stalked them like a tiger in tall grass.

"May I kiss the bride?" Marty asked.

"Yes," both Victoria and Vicki said with a smile.

With that, Marty leaned down as Victoria leaned up as they kissed, simply. It was a marriage approved by the future, no minister nor justice of the peace needed. It was based on love, not lust. No state or church had any jurisdiction on their adoration.

"You are married," Vicki said. "We are married."

As the two couples walked from their secret ceremony toward the Indiana Memorial Union and the union's hotel, Marco followed from a distance.

The two couples hugged at the entrance of the union, and Martin gave Marty a key to a king-size room on the eighth floor with a few of Dunn Woods and the Sample Gates.

"We'll see you two for brunch tomorrow," Vicki said, anticipating new memories being made of her first great sex with her husband ... not the guilt-ridden, awkward moments in the Martinsville motel from 35 years earlier.

She hugged her younger self and kissed her simply on the cheek. All the guilt, all the religious angst of sex, had disappeared. She loved her spouse. Repairing life with Mother would wait ... working would wait ... studying would wait. This week was about them, exclusively.

The younger couple walked into an elevator as the older couple watched. From behind a large planter, Marco watched as the doors closed and the old folks walked away. He watched the numbers above the elevator go up until it stopped.

Eight.

His nostrils flared.

***

Marty unlocked the large wooden door of their room with Victoria's hand on his. He paused for a moment, and lifted her up. She was small and slender; standing just 5 feet 4 inches tall, with breasts that normally filled a 32C bra. This day, the day of her secret wedding, they were free in a light sun dress.

He picked Victoria up, her arm wrapping around his neck as he held her lower back and lifted the back of her knees onto his left forearm. He stepped over the threshold of the room as they kissed.

It had been a whirlwind of five days since their older selves had time-traveled back to 1989. But all seemed to work out well for their lives. They had love and time on their side.

The room at the Indiana Union Memorial was one of the suites, with a large bed covered in a quilted fabric. The two windows looked out upon the south and west sides of the campus as they slipped off their shoes. They looked out the two windows for a moment to see the Sample Gates out toward Kirkwood Avenue and a small creek that ran through the grounds through the other window.

Marty kissed Victoria's shoulder and let his fingers flit down her arms until they reunited with her hands. She turned around and they kissed deeply, their tongues flickering -- their eyes open in this moment.

Victoria back-peddled to the bed, sitting down on it -- her legs uncoiled quickly. Marty leaned down and held his hands on her knees. He tilted down to his knees and kissed her again, his hands running from her knees, up her thighs and to her breasts. He'd touched them only a few times, but was fascinated with them. She braced her hands in back of her and pulled the sundress off her shoulders -- her orbs spilling from the front of the fabric.

Marty kissed her neck and ran his hands softly over Victoria's breasts as her breathing quickly enhanced in the moment. Her lover -- her husband -- was exploring her body with his tongues and fingers along her skin. He nuzzled between her breasts and up the rises of their form. He softly suckled in curiosity and heat, rubbing his thumb along one nipple while sucking on the other. He was in paradise.

Victoria's neck craned back as she softly moaned and giggled. She was giving herself to love. She adjusted her hands and reached down, pulling Marty's Izod collared shirt off him. She lingered her fingernails along his chest, flickering along his nipples and down his thin belly. A race of hair traveled down his tummy from his belly button into his jeans.

His hands gripped Victoria's sundress and pulled it down her curved hips. She compressed her legs for just a second, and then arched her ass upward for just a moment before it slid off -- her body naked before her husband. She spread her legs to him, kicking off her flats, as he touched her pale legs. Marty's mouth kissed Victoria's stomach and down the curves of her hips until his face touched the soft bristles of her pubic hair. One day, she would shave this area of her body, but she hadn't been that brave yet. She had used shampoo and conditioner on it, but not a razor.

Marty's tongue traveled through the delineation of her sex. She was damp with desire. He licked hesitantly, not entirely sure what he was doing. He flattened out his tongue and held her legs back as he lapped several times. From her moans, he wasn't doing it wrong. He then slipped a finger inside her pussy, kissing her thigh as he watched it sink inside her.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him back to her belly and breasts. There would be decades for oral exploration. She wanted to make love. He kissed her neck and then her lips, wondering if she would reject his buss since his mouth had just been against her wetness. She didn't.

Marty crawled onto the bed and Victoria pawed his neck and chest. Her fingers pulled at the front of his jeans, his hardness straining through the denim. She fumbled with his buttonfly. He giggled as he pulled off the first two, and she ripped down the next three. The elastic band of his tight white underwear hugged his hips, but his excited penis stretched the fabric upwards, Marty pulled his jeans off his thighs and lower legs, kicking them off to the floor.

He used his big toes to scrap off his socks as he kissed his virginal wife. Her hand researched his skin, and her lips felt the reaction of his body as she rubbed the upthrust under his cotton Haynes. With her thumbs working under the waistband of the underwear, she pulled them off and returned her hand to his eight inches of manhood. She looked at it.

His penis, hardened by blood inside, looked much like the penis she'd watched fuck the 55-year-old version of her while on Lake Monroe yesterday. But the skin was younger, somehow softer looking. And her husband's naked body was tight and thin, with just small thatches of hair on his tummy, the middle of his chest, and dancing around his nipples.

Marty's hand played with Victoria's breasts and wandered down to her vagina. He held paradise in his fingertips and fumbled with her pussy. He wondered if he was massaging her clit (just barely) and if he was turning her on (a little bit, but not as much as the moment already had excited her).

Victoria pulled her foot onto the bed and looked at Marty.

"I want to feel you ... inside me. Make love with me," she said.

He maneuvered on top of Victoria, his chest squishing onto her breasts, as his cock gravitated toward her pussy. He was one step removed from a virgin, but was still hesitant to use his hand in aiming his sex. She was a virgin, and wasn't entirely sure how she could help guide him in. They looked into one another's eyes and giggled as Marty stopped, moved his hips, and the head of his penis found the lips of her pussy. She was wet, he was hard. Their bodies were both hot. She spread her legs far apart, and pulled on Marty's belly until his cock entered her.

The burn as he went into her was like a wick sparking down toward an explosion of dynamite. As his dick filled her fully, she gasped in pain that settled into paradise. The pain evaporated in a few moments, and she moaned in delight. It was good. It was love.

"Oh, yes," she said as her virgin status was eliminated on her body's resume. She had a man in her -- and not a rapist or a minister she didn't want to touch -- but her love. Her husband. Her emotions were overjoyed, her body on fire in passion, her thoughts on how amazing her life had become. And her first climax already on its way as Marty collided into her over and over again.

His cock had never felt like this ... Victoria's body was so tight, but so accepting. His hands tried to find a place to hold onto. For a few moments, he held onto her breasts, then her stomach, then her hips, then a blanket. He opened his hands and pushed himself up so he could look down at her. The light warmed her body as she looked up at him and giggled and moaned. Their bodies were together for the first time.

"Yes, oh God, yes," she said, her breathing increasing in pace. She loved sex. It made sense. Her older persona had told her she would as soon as she got over the fear of it. And the fear was eliminated. The penis inside her massaged the walls of her pussy. Marty brought a finger down between their legs and explored for her clit. He was inexperienced, but she appreciated the effort and placed his thumb on her button.

"Rub," she said.

He did, slowly. He returned his mouth to her breasts and lips as she kept her legs spread wide. He kept rubbing her clit with his cock pounding with more fury inside her. "Oh, God," he announced in her ear. "Yes," she responded.




A Matter of Time Ch. 11



"I'm ... I'm going to ... cum," he said, wondering if the talk would gross her out. It set her off ... her climax convulsed on his cock without a verbal broadcast until she screamed in his ear. Her climax thundered down his penis and his cum catapulted into her.

The audible dance of their moans and screams were like a rock concert of bass drums backing up an electric guitar solo.

Their bodies collapsed in the explosion of his cum and thunderstruck moment of her climax. He kissed Victoria's neck. Her fingernails lingered on his shoulder. They were satisfied in the moment.

"I love you," Marty said.

"I love you, too. Forever."