After a shamefully long silence, here's a new (well, new here - 2003 ain't new but...) story.
Dedicated to Sharita who says she follows my blog and that it's time I added more.
This is a long one (for me). It has a time travel theme but don't let that put you off - it's really all about fucking ... as my stories tend to be! A fair bit of scene setting too, but it warms up fast enough. So ........ welcome back to "Eroticklyours" ........ enjoy I hope and let me know what you think:
"Coming & Going" (Part 1)
The house was old and what little research I'd done showed that it was built on a much older foundation. Just how far that went back seemed to be anybody's guess. The basement was dark, cold and damp. I'd finally decided to at least explore it and even had some idea of cleaning it out. Maybe build a workshop down there.
I ran an extension cord down the stairs and hung the light on a nail. The place was jammed with furniture and boxes. If I wanted to make a workplace down there I was faced with a long, dirty job.
I blundered about for a while. Opening boxes at random, seemingly endless books and papers filled them. Drawers yielded anything from clothing to cutlery. The former crumbling, the latter black with the years.
I fought my way to the furthest corner. There was an odd little alcove that was invisible from the stairs. On one wall of it were two panels side by side, each about the size of a narrow doorway. They were paler than the surounding stonework. I reached out to touch the surface of one and the scariest thing, my hand went through! I drew the hand back as if I'd been burnt.
I brought the lamp over and hung it on a hook in the beam overhead. I risked another touch with the same result. My hand was unmarked, unharmed. Nerving myself I stepped closer and this time my arm went through to the shoulder. Fear and curiosity, I felt a large measure of both.
I don't know how long I took to get myself right through the 'doorway' but the other side was an anticlimax. Just like standing in a grey fog. No sensation at all except that the floor under my feet was thankfully solid. I simply turned round and stepped back into the basement. Of course I then tried the other 'door' and the result was the same. 'What was this all about?' I wondered, and, 'why two doorways?'
After some pondering the obvious thought occurred and I went out of one portal and moved across a little and tried to pass through the other. It worked! But...
This was a much changed basement. My hanging lamp was gone, now the only light came down the stairs and the whole place seemed empty. Noises too in the house above me! Heart bumping under my ribs I slowly crossed to the stairs and very cautiously crept up them. Peering over the top step I could see into the kitchen. A young woman was at the sink, washing up. On the fridge door was a calendar. 2013! Dear God, ten years in the future! Slowly I backed down the stairs and I reversed my route back to 'my' basement. I stumbled upstairs and got a beer from the fridge and sat down, heavily.
Well, it seemed that the other basement had been cleaned out and presumably I'd sold the place or had I remarried? Who was the girl? Maybe I was dead. Dead in 2013! In the end of course I went back downstairs.
If 'going out' and then 'coming back' took me forward ten years, would two cycles produce a twenty year jump? And of course, would going the other way take me back to 1993? For now maybe the forward trip would be best or maybe I should have another beer? Procrastination comes easy when faced with time travel so I went to get one. I took the rechargeable flashlight off the wall too and headed back downstairs.
I stood for quite a while in front of the two doorways and sipped beer and idly thumbed the switch of the flashlight. The sound was oddly loud in the basement's gloom. Was this how Columbus felt when he yelled for the moorings to be cast off? I moved towards the pale patch in the wall.
Twice out and twice back in, via that first dark empty cellar. This time I arrived in pitch darkness. I clicked on the flashlight. Boxes and furniture this time and a bicycle. The bike and the furniture looked odd to my eyes. What year was this? I crossed to the stairs and crept upwards. The door at the top was closed. I opened it, oh so carefully. The house was deserted I was almost sure. I crossed to the table, there was a newspaper on it. Sure enough 2023!
I headed 'home' and that night slept little ... I had a time machine in the basement! Not easy to sleep with that sort of knowledge for company.
I must have dozed off eventually. My bedroom was bright with sunshine when I awoke. Hungry, and halfway to the kitchen before thoughts of the basement and its secret popped into mind! Well, it was Sunday and I had nothing planned. I made a big breakfast and sat down to eat. I told myself I'd have more coffee and then do the crossword. Who was I kidding? I did manage to dress and brush my teeth but that was all. The basement drew me like a magnet.
I stood under the naked bulb and stared at the wall. I'd half hoped I'd dreamt it but the two portals were still very much there.
By lunchtime I'd spun my way, basement by basement, through to 2083. Eighty years in ten year jumps. The contents changed very noticeably over the years but it never became anything but a storage area come dumping place. I met and befriended a tabby cat in 2053 but that was all in the way of encountering anybody. I was lucky I suppose, hard to explain your presence to a Rottweiller or a startled homeowner when you appear in their basement. I stopped then, hungry and feeling very grubby. I was in no doubt by then how things worked.
I took a long hot shower. I'd go on after lunch until the century's end and then maybe try going the other way. Into the past, if it worked that way. I assumed it would, after all I kept bringing myself back to 'now' OK.
I drove over to the mall, had a sub and a coffee and looked around at my fellow diners. I bet they'd not had a Sunday morning like mine.
Back in the basement I stood and contemplated 2093 and 2103 or at least the doorway to them. I stepped forward ...
The dirty old basement was gone! Well, not gone but completely changed. Furnished now as an office. Even ninety years in the future an office was somehow still an office. Chairs and desk and much that I recognised or at least more or less recognised.
I froze as I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. She was swiveling slowly in her chair. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
I simply stood and stared. Clothing styles had changed!
"I wondered if anyone would ever appear," she gestured at the alcove behind me. Her English was strangely accented but easy enough to understand. She controlled her shock very well.
"Is staring considered complementery wherever ... er... whenever you come from?"
"I'm sorry, yes of course, no ... it's ill-mannered," I was almost stammering, "it's just that fashions have changed in a hundred years."
She stood up, stretched her arms out from her sides and cocked a hip and smiled, "Do you approve?"
I certainly did and tried to tell her so. I doubted I'd ever be able to talk to her unless I closed my eyes.
Her hair, at least the Mohican strip that remained of it, was silver. Like the punk styles of many years ago. She wore nothing but a triangle of brilliant green fabric that looked sprayed on. Its apex disappeared between her thighs. It widened as it rose, to cover her breasts and shoulders. She was lovely! Lovely but very 'different', from her armpits dense tufts of coppery curls sprouted. What little there was of the 'garment' between her legs simply divided another bush of copper. Damn it! I didn't know where to look.
She reached for a robe draped over the chair and slipped it on. I didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. She was tall, she'd match my five eleven if she wore heels. She laughed, a pretty sound, "Does the sight of me disturb you?"
"Given the style of that outfit it would be surprising if it didn't."
"When is your time?"
"2003, just ninety years ago." The words shocked me when I heard myself say them.
She seemed to ponder that for a while and suddenly said, "We could go into business together."
"I deal in antiques," she waved at the desk, "supplying demands."
I gestured around me, "The old basement has changed, the one I left is, or was, filled with treasures."
"Really?" her eyes were alight at the thought.
"You should take a look sometime," The craziness of the remark made me smile, asking this lovely creature back to see my etchings ... 'it's only ninety years away,' I thought.
She glanced at the stairs nervously and I asked, "Is there someone you should tell?" Her eyebrow went up and she smiled a strange smile.
"My master controls the house and the house controls me," she sounded both sad and proud. "He's away on business, this is my daytime room," she gestured around her. She glanced at a clock, "I have four hours before I must go to the eating area". She reached for my hand and headed for the wall and 'my place'. I'd looked at the clock when she did, odd somehow to see that the time 'here' matched the time 'there'.
I counted aloud through the decades as we went back, hand in hand. Her trust surprised me. I was achingly aware of her nearness, the wonderful woman scent of her, no hint of perfume, just the lovely presence there in the dark that seemed to subtly say 'I am woman'. We circled doorway to doorway to doorway like childen playing a game. Suddenly, we emerged, squinting, after eight darknesses into 'my' basement with it's painfully bright, hundred watt bulb.
I said "I'm James."
"Cilla," she told me and pulled open a drawer and said "Ooh!"
"I'll make us some coffee," I said and headed for thestairs. Look around all you like".
While the coffee perked I stood, staring out of the kitchen window, lost in thought. The name, Cilla, the feel of her small hand, the incredible travel back and forth, her strange beauty, what to do about it all. For the first time in months, I felt really alive.
Her words startled me, "These figurines are beautiful. Worth a small fortune in my time."
"Do they still have coffee in your time?" I handed her a mug and slid the cream jug across the table.
She leaned her elbows on the table and held the mug between her hands. The robe gaped open and the green fabric shimmered inside. I felt arousal stirring. Her eyes were brown, her skin midway between milk chocolate and honey. A full-lipped, white-toothed smile and that strange silver mane of hair over her naked scalp.
"And you look strange to my eyes," she said softly, close to echoing my thoughts. "My master is very fashionable, no hair at all, not anywhere."
I chuckled, my hair and beard badly needed a trim and I had hair everywhere. She reached out a beautifully kept hand and ran fingertips up my arm. It was like a light electric shock. I broke out in gooseflesh and she gave a little squeal of delight, "Just like an animal!" Her hand flew to her mouth and she went crimson. "I'm so sorry, that was unforgiveable!"
I thought it funny and laughed at her embarrassment. "It doesn't matter, we prehistoric males must look very primitive." I was silent for a moment, "Anyway our females are headed for complete hairlessness at the moment I think; except for the head."
"Even ...?" she began a downward gesture with her hand but stopped.
"Very often, even there."
She looked a little uncomfortable and I tried to put her at ease. "You look very different but very, very attractive."
"Do you have a woman?"
"She died, nearly a year ago." I smiled at the thought of how Peggy would have reacted to 'my having her as a woman.'
"I'm sorry, you must be lonely."
Instead of saying that I was fine I simply said, "yes, I am."
Her hand caressed my arm again and it felt wonderful.
We finished our coffee and went downstairs. She stood and gestured around the basement. "So much treasure. Surely much of it has great sentimental value?"
I laughed, "None of it's mine; well it is but it was here when I bought the house and its contents. Take it all if you like, most of it is probably worthless."
"I would like that, but how would I pay you."
"Let me give it to you."
She glanced at a tiny watch on her wrist and a worried frown crossed her face. "I must be going, perhaps we can meet again."
I didn't like that 'perhaps'. She moved towards the alcove and I followed her.
"I must be out of the office at the proper time," she explained. It made little sense to me. She seemed pleased when I insisted on seeing her home. Travelling ninety years seemed suddenly easy.
Fifteen minutes later I was back at my own place, my own time, staring unseeing at the dimly lit basement trying to convince myself I hadn't dreamt it all. How I missed her presense! I turned and looked at the wall. Yes, the panels were there glowing yet not glowing. I was mere feet from Cilla but nearly a century away. I shook my head. I'd asked her if I could visit her again tomorrow. She'd hesitated and then said, "Come earlier." Then she'd brightened, "Maybe I shall come and see you."
Next morning there was a difference in the air. For the first time in a year I knew I hadn't woken to an empty house. I knew somehow who the company was, sensing her standing by the bed. I'd awoken lying on my stomach and I turned my head, opening one eye.
Not eighteen inches away was that shock of red pubic hair divided today not by green but by brilliant red. "That kitchen of yours is a museum!" said the owner of the curls from above me.
I didn't reply but just studied the prominent swell of her mound. The strange cloth outlined every contour, including the deep divide that disappeared down and back between her thighs. I so much wanted to reach out and touch those curls, feel them with the backs of my fingers. They had to be tinted surely? They were too red to be natural. I needed a leak badly and my cock was advertising the fact in its usual fashion aided, no doubt, by the nearness of Cilla's pussy. "I brought you a coffee, it may not taste correct."
I figured I could roll over AND conceal my masculinity but from the grin and the widening of her eyes I knew I'd not quite managed it. I sat with the sheet over me and looked up at her.
"Males keep all their body hair in this time," she sounded shocked.
"Well, you look very unusual to my eyes," I said, then adding quickly, "but the differences are very attractive." In fact, now that the initial surpise had worn off, I thought she bordered on beautiful.
She turned and left the bedroom, to get her coffee she said. But her departure gave me a look at the sweetest of asses. Effectively naked with just a strip of red coming up out from between those perfect, dimpled buttocks. Up to a silver collar around her neck. God,what an ass! She was barefoot and oh, the wiggle she had!
She returned with her coffee and sat at the foot of the bed. I wondered about the strip of cloth between her legs when she sat down like that. What it was doing to her and where was it getting? My cock hardened a little more, not easy.
I sat and looked at her profile. The house was morning chilly although it was only mid-Autumn and her nipples were very prominent. Hard to guess about her breasts. They seemed big but the fabric was tight and flattened them, perhaps bras had gone the way of male body hair? Oh but she was lovely! Her armpit hair was plain to see, a soft, small cloud of red curls at the front and just a few wisps at the back. Some reflected sunlight caught the silver of her Mohican. 'Let her stay all day!' I begged silently.
"Look, I've got to use the bathroom." I said quietly, figiting.
She turned and smiled, "Good."
"Yes, I've never seen a male with pubic hair before," her voice seemed to bubble with laughter.
I was embarassed and very conscious of my hardness. I decided I could wait a little while longer.
"A year without a woman, it must be lonely," she gestured to my groin area. 'It' was very lonely I thought. I'd got along fine, with my left hand, but... Suddenly, I wanted her very, very much.
Did it show in my eyes I wonder? She said, "I must not be unfaithful to my master but I would be happy to give you a massage." My cock actually twitched when she said the word massage.
She went on to explain that all slaves were obliged to take many courses, including massage.
All this master and slave stuff seemed rather out of place ninety years in the future or so I thought and I said so, rather hesitantly. I was getting to the knee pressing stage with my bladder now but hung on. "Pregnancies have to be government approved," she was saying, "my mother's was illegal and was scheduled for termination. A man with influence can cheat the law and my master bought me as a slave while I was still in the womb, it is a common practice."
"I will get my bag," she said, getting up. I happily watched that ass again and then swung my legs out of bed.
We all but collided in the doorway and I had to juststand while she looked.
"You did that purposely!" I said while my cock waved at her defiantly. It does things like that!
"Perhaps," she murmured, "we both have red hair I see, yours is prettier I think."
Minutes later I was on the bed again, face down.Persuading me had taken no time at all. She had blindfolded me explaining that it would focus my mind on the massage. It seemed to me that she'd planned all this; antique dealers of the future may be a force to be reckoned with!
My heavens but she was good! I lost track of time and place. I forgot perhaps about the lovely creature weaving this magic. My feet and calves then thighs. A delicious interlude while she worked on my ass. The incredible hands and fingers kneading and caressing, finally going between, exploring and teasing. The new erection was every bit as blissfully hard as its predecessor.
When she moved to my back my arousal was slowly forgotten, at one point I fell asleep and she had to waken me. Muscles seemed to unlock in my shoulders and neck and I felt better than I'd felt in many a long month.
She made me turn over then. How shy and vulnerable I felt! Attractive though she was, she was a stranger. Lying there, blindfolded, with my genitals exposed like that required a real effort of will. But there was something about this strange girl that made me trust her. "Well aren't you different?" she said very quietly and I felt the caress of her breath on my thigh. No doubt all the primitive hair, ... but seemingly it was more than that, "I'd heard of the practice of trimming the end of the cock before but ... "
Her gentle fingers touched the head of my cock and of course it began to rear erect. She squealed in surprise and delight. I opened my eyes and realised Icould just see her from under the bottom of the blindfold. My turn to be surprised. She'd unfastened the top of the costume and fastened it somehow around her waist. Her breasts were exquisite. Free of the tight fabric they swung with sweet heaviness at every movement she made.
Her hand closed over my erection and squeezed. I groaned.
contd in Part 2 .................
"age we may - but the lust? - it fadeth not - I pray" .............. Read more of my stories at: http://eroticklyours.blogspot.com/