Just Popping Back . . .

I have many names now. Who I am depends on when I am at times. Ah, I see from your glazed expression that I'm losing you already, but please humour an old man and listen. You probably won't believe what I'm about to tell you but I'm going to tell you anyway because they tell me confession's good for the soul. Now, where was I? Oh yes, names. Names are important you see. I mean, just imagine you were in with a shot at shagging Cleopatra after she'd just been bathing in ass's milk. Well, you wouldn’t want to ruin your chances of having your end away with this famous Egyptian beauty by having a name like Arnoldsworth Molestrangler would you?

Not that my name is Arnoldsworth Molestrangler of course, nor have I ever shagged Queen Cleo. The chief reason why I haven't is that leaps into the ancient past, are precariouly imprecise affairs that can have you missing your intended target by a couple of hundred years or more. What? Didn't I tell you that I was once a member of the U. K. Time Travelling Development Team and still have access to their facilities? Oh I don’t know, this aging thing's a bugger; I'll be forgetting my own name next and names are important for some reason or another. Also, getting the geography right when time jumping's important too and can prove a tad tricky. I grant you that seducing the lovely Helen of Troy could be the erotic adventure of a lifetime, but your sudden arrival on a Trojan war battlefield just half a mile out from where Helen is reclining with moistened cunt in readiness for you could have fatal pre-coital consequences before you got the chance to do anything about it. Therefore, it's probably best to confine yourself to the length of time you've actually been alive. That way, you can pin point the times of your entrances and exits to the precise second, which is especially important where criminal activity is involved. You'll see why later.

I won't go into the science about how this time jumping thingy all works here, mainly because I don't understand it myself. I did once you know, only now I forget things, like names; all my names, a different one for every historical expedition . . .

I'm rambling a bit, aren't I. You'll have to excuse me, it's an age thing and a bit of a bugger but there it is! Anyway, that said, I think you young people should be told that the machinery facilitating time travel is, as you might expect, owned by the government who, as all governments tend to do when they do something so recklessly irresponsible, vehemently deny that such a thing as time jumping exists and then sneakily use it to their own personal advantage. As a result of this, the past simply isn’t what it once was, I'm afraid.

Let me explain. You'll no doubt have heard about the theory of causality, which states that any retrospective interference with events in the past will set consequence rolling through time that affect the present day. Well, I'm here to tell you good people that this is absolute bollocks. You see, events that took place in the past are recorded on the fabric of the space / time continuum. When someone goes back in time and interferes with these events, it does change history - but only for the duration of time that interference is taking place - like recording a new song over a prerecorded longer piece of music. Once the new song is finished, what's left of the old recorded material plays on as if nothing had happened. Therefore, whatever is done in the past stays in the past and no consequences come chasing after you when you return to the present day. That's how I got away with Rita in the store room at work fifty years ago, or to put it another way, yesterday. Fifty years ago, I didn't do it you see; I just didn’t have the nerve. I'd fancied her like crazy, back in the day. She'd an hour glass figure with a really slim waist, the prettiest face you ever saw and the sweetest of demeanours. She was always smiling, always beautiful, always dressed in a mini-skirt that displayed her gorgeous shapely legs to perfection. She was my absolute dream girl. Sadly however, despite my best efforts, she'd never shown no interest in me whatsoever.

Well, time past and we simply went our separate ways, but the memory of her beauty stubbornly remained to haunt and taunt me over the years. You see, I've compared every female I've ever met to her and so far, no one's come out ahead. Now that's really put a downer on my love life, I can tell you. You see, because of Rita, I've always felt I've been settling for second best, until yesterday.

Well, it was raining you see and the bowls match got cancelled. I was stuck at home, alone with my memories and on impulse decided it was high time I did something about improving my memories where Rita was concerned in an effort to exorcise her ghostly influence from my life forever. So, I simply popped back to nineteen seventy two, pulled a knife on Rita to scare her into keeping quite, got her on the floor and did the dirty deed.

Ah yes, I gather from your incredulous expression that you're wondering if it's even possible for a seventy six year old wreck like me to overpower and fuck a fit and fiercely resisting twenty-two year old woman. Well, here's the thing. You see, time jumping entails stepping outside of time itself for a moment. This is where the magic happens because in that moment, your body automatically assumes it's optimum age and shape; hence you always arrive at your chosen moment in your prime. Consequently, it was a twenty-six year old me that ravished poor, sweet, innocent Rita. I made a good job of it too; completely stripping her, finally getting my hands on those magnificent thighs, having her sucking me to the point of her gagging before I flipped her so I could sodomise that succulent, plump bum of hers. (I had to gag her for that bit, she'd have been squealing like a stuck pig otherwise). By the time I got around to forcing my cock into a vagina rendered gratifyingly tight by nervous tension, Rita's pretty face was a mess of smeared makeup and running mascara - turned to mush by her tears. In fact, she suddenly wasn't pretty anymore. She was, in fact, facially grotesque. Her perfect features got all contorted by the pain and humiliation I was cruely subjecting her to - and loving doing so let me say. That's the main problem with messing about with time. It tends to corrupt you something rotten. That's probably why every thrust deep into her tight, resisting cunt served to heighten the sense of total power I had over this struggling, frightened girl. I'd her many times in my imagination over the years but the feel of her trembling naked body under me, the heat of her, the scent of her, her involutary internal wetness; these were new and exciting revelations indeed. Her very life was in my hands. Indeed, at one point, I did place my hands around her slim, smooth throat and seriously considered strangling her, just to see what it would feel like to have her die with my cock deep inside her. I was tempted, I admit it. Especially when I remembered that what I'd be 'killing' would happily be alive and well again the moment I leapt back to the twenty-first century. But I didn't. I just mauled, slapped and punched her voluptuous creamy-white tits black and blue instead. But oh, what sweet music to my ears was that long, low, despairing moaning sound Rita made as she felt my sperm pulsing out into her. That added to the quality of my orgasm no end and seemed to make my victory over her body, mind and soul all the more complete.

I wiped myself clean of her on her clothing and left her curled up in a foetal position on the floor, sobbing. It worked. My fucking Rita in such a sordid fashion stripped all her mystique from her as I realised that over the years and in reality, I'd had many better fucks with sexier, mire responsive women than this.

I jumped back to my own time - but ten minutes later, I returned to the store room to check up on the lovely Rita. She was her usual immaculate self and busily checking stock against a whole wad of delivery notes she was holding in a delicate, immaculate hand. I asked her if she needed any help. She totally ignored me - as of old - as usual. Yeah, she was fine!

So, you see, the only thing I'd really fucked up was a little bit more of the pre-recorded past. I'd put a kink in it, as has everyone who's ever gone back in time and done anything at all. Indeed, the past can be a very kinky place to visit these days with anomalies seemingly springing up at every turn. So, a word to the wise: if YOU ever get the opportunity to jump back to a time in your individual past, expect the unexpected. Things may not necessarily be quite as you remember them.