ExplicitNovels

The Time Riders: Part 2

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The Time Riders: Part 2
When you've got a time machine, practice makes perfect.

Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



Always The Student.

Mark was lying on his back, panting while Becky squirmed and

writhed on top of him, moaning in pleasure. His hands were on her opulent tits,
kneading them just how she loved it. The lovers were covered in sweat as she
ground her cunt down onto his cock, taking him deep inside. He matched her
sensual rhythm, pushing up while she pressed down, squeezing his shaft with
each thrust he made.

"Yes, Mark;” she gasped, her hands resting on his chest

while she writhed on him shamelessly. It didn't matter that she was his former
high school Physics teacher, or even that she still was, in a sense, she was
committed to fucking him because she'd promised herself she'd enjoy this, and
Becky did her damdest to always follow her own advice. "Yes, baby, right
there;”

Becky now began gyrating her hips in a circle on top of him,

interrupting the rhythm that would certainly had led to both of them cumming
and she wanted to prolong this session. She felt Mark regain control of
himself, adapting to the new pace, although he continued to molest her tits,
pinching and tugging on her nipples. Her flawless skin glistened with her
exertions, the wonderful scent of a woman making love permeating the air.

"Hmm, good boy," she purred, smiling down at him.

"You're learning."

"I've got the best teacher I could ask for." Mark

replied, grinning back. "Forget all the time travel stuff you're helping
me figure out, you're amazing in bed, Becky. I've never cum so hard before, not
like when I'm with you."

"You're so sweet, darling," she cooed, reveling in

the feel of his throbbing cock deep inside her. Ever since that night he'd
snuck into her home and failed so miserably at trying to seduce her so she
would change his Physics grade, they'd become ardent lovers, with her being
nearly as addicted to their sex as he was. "You make me cum really hard
too, just so you know. And the gift you brought me back from London was so
thoughtful. How would you like to fuck me next?"

Mark nodded, pondering her question. He had indeed brought

her back a gift, from London in the 1880's. He'd come back with a lovely dress
from the period and a bottle of Italian wine. Even though she had never
accompanied him on a temporal trip (except that very first one, to prove he had
a time machine at all), she seemed to have an innate understanding of how to
time travel without screwing things up, which was very easy.

He took hold of her hips and slowly rolled her onto her

stomach. She purred as she pushed her legs together and then knelt over her
thighs. She put her chin on her arms and sighed as he pulled her ass cheeks
apart and pushed his cock down into her cunt. Her clamped legs made her feel
tighter than ever and he groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out. Keeping
himself up on his hands, his back arched so that she was pinned beneath him, he
began to piston his hips, fucking his teacher.

"Oh, Mark;” she murmured. "It's so good this way.

Your cock feels so wonderful inside me."

"Uh, God;” he breathed, shuddering as she squeezed her

cheeks together, clamping her cunt around him as he thrust. "I never wanna
stop fucking you."

"I don't want you to," she gasped as he hit her

sweet spot. "And because you; oh; have your time machine; we can find a
way; to fuck forever;”

She squirmed and writhed beneath him while he pushed up and

down on her, both of them getting slick with sweat. They groaned and panted
together. He leaned down and bit her shoulder Becky keened in pleasure.
Trembling, she arched her hips, pushing up against him. She could feel his cock
twitching and swelling inside her.

"Gonna cum;” he breathed, pushing down and straining.

"Uh! Yes, cum in me, Mark!" she wailed.

She pressed her face into a pillow as she screamed, feeling

her student's cum spurting inside and filling her spasming cunt. Mark shook and
groaned loudly, so glad they were in her house and could be as loud as they
needed to be. Her slammed his hips down onto her, tingling pleasure blossoming
through him.

Mark collapsed on top of her, both of them limp and

breathing heavily. He reached under Becky and put his hands on her tits, squeezing
gently. She hummed and undulated her soft cheeks beneath him, milking his cock
for all of his cum, her wet cunt wanting every last drop. They said nothing for
several minutes, just lying there in bliss.

Becky finally slowly turned over, Mark's cock slipping out

of her and they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing deeply. He pushed
his still-hard cock back in and moved back and forth gently inside her and she
squeezed him in rhythm. Tongues tangled and they hummed contentedly into one
another's mouths.

"God, I want to find a way to have multiples of you

fucking me all at once," she purred, smiling into his eyes and caressing
his cheek. "One in my cunt, one in my ass, another in my mouth; hmm, that
sounds heavenly."

"Yeah, but won't I, like, blow up spontaneously, or

collapse the universe if I encounter myself?" he asked somewhat warily. He
liked the idea of fucking all Becky's holes, but not if it made everything go
boom.

She giggled and bopped his nose. "Silly. Why are you

asking me? You're the one with access to this time-travel police force. What
did you say they were called? TEA?"

"Yeah, they said they're called the Temporal

Enforcement Agency." Mark confirmed. "I called them Teabaggers and
they didn't think that was funny."

"Oh, be nice to them, darling," she chided gently.

"After all, they're protecting the timeline for crazy kids like you."

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted, knowing she was

infinitely more sensible than him about these things. She was already so much smarter
at this temporal stuff than he was. The only reason his little trip to 1800's
London went well was because she'd prepped him and made him think it through.
"Getting myself killed is apparently pretty easy."

"Boo, and then we couldn't fuck anymore," she

said, sounding sad. "And even if you stopped time-travelling tomorrow, I'd
still want to fuck you. You've unleashed a demon in me."

"I know it," he laughed. "I have to rest a

few days after our marathon fuck sessions, only to come back in your
next day to keep up with your libido. Not that I'm complaining, mind."

She giggled. "Well I do love to fuck," she

agreed. "Maybe one day, I'll go with you. I'd love to fuck in a harem bath
house or a Parisian brothel."

Mark rolled off her and lay on his back, staring at the

ceiling. He could almost see the steam rising off them. As tricky as time
travel was, he never would have ended up in bed with his Physics teacher if it
hadn't been for his time machine.

"That chronometer the agents gave me comes in really

handy," he said, his thoughts drifting. "It actually gives me little
warnings if I'm getting too close to another temporal event. It means I can't
do some things I'd like to do, but things get complicated."

She smiled. "You said they called it 'the Limelight Effect'

or getting clock hammered, depending on what you were trying to do."

He nodded. "They didn't like it when I called it

'clock-blocking'."

"You said they had no sense of humor." Becky

mused. "But maybe practicing with your Holmes Field Device in minor ways
will help."

He turned and looked at her. "How so?"

"Well," she began, turning on her side to look at

him, her hand propping up her head. Her nipples gently kissed the skin of his
arm. "How about you take me out for dinner? We'll pick a low-traffic area,
somewhere time travelers don't go. You said that your chronometer dials are
difficult to physically turn and the Holmes Field device always skews numbers
if you're trying to get anywhere that would prove troublesome."

He considered what she was saying. "So, take you to

some remote village in the past where no one else is ever interested in going.
We can try finessing my control of the device."

She nodded. "Precisely. I don't know about you, but I

speak flawless French, we could visit a little village in France's past and we
could get some dinner. You could learn how to deal with the locals, get a feel
for what you'll have to do if you keep travelling the time stream."

"It's weird how you can say words like 'time stream' so

naturally, like it's normal," he sighed. "Still, you're right,
careful practice is probably a good thing."

"It'll be fun," she said, reaching over and taking

hold of his hip to turn him into her. Her tits were now squashed to his chest,
his soft cock against her gooey cunt. "How bad a teacher can I be for
this? You made it through my physics class without tearing a hole in
reality."

"And yet I failed," he sighed. "I doubt I can

fuck my way out of every bit of trouble I get myself into."

She giggled and took his hand, pulling him off the bed and

leading him to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet to pee while she
stroked his cock gently, She shivered as she peed, feeling his cum trickling of
her, pulling him closer and taking him in her mouth. She hummed as she bobbed
back and forth, enjoying their mingled taste. Mark had to admit that he was
enjoying how relaxed she was around him now that they were lovers.

"So," she said finally, pulling his cock out of

her mouth with a quiet pop. "We'll shower and get cleaned up. Then
we'll head to the public library to figure out where and what we're doing.
Anybody asks, I'll say I'm helping you with your schoolwork."

He smiled slyly, feeling a familiar tingle in his cock at

the thought of showering with her. This was going to be a good night.

"So here's a question," she remarked as she

watched Mark get dressed in the outfit they'd bought for the occasion, hidden
from prying eyes in her basement, where he kept the Holmes Field Device. They'd
visited a costume shop and found clothing that was a good fit for the period
they were visiting, that being France in the 1600's. "Did they ever tell
you about any contacts you can make in the time stream? You know, like
dealers?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Dealers?"

"Sure," she said, nodding. "There must be time-travelers

who make their living by providing goods and services to other travelers. I
mean, you need to be able to get money and supplies somewhere, so that you
don't stick out like a sore thumb, right?"

"Yeah, that'd make sense," he admitted. "I

mean, I got lucky when I tried going to London and got that dress, I managed to
pawn off some knick-knacks I'd brought with me, because I didn't know how else
to pay for anything. And they thought I was just some ignorant American. I got
out a lot quicker than I thought I would."

"I think we should find out," she reasoned.

"If you're going to do this, you should really learn how to find what you
need."

"Exactly how much time-travelling do you think I'm

gonna be doing?" he asked, giving her a wry look before continuing to put
on his new outfit.

"Well, we know you have no future as a physicist, maybe

you'll find something you're good at in the time stream," she giggled,
making him sigh. She moved forward to help him get into his clothes, since he
clearly had no idea what he was doing. "And even if you don't know how to
find a dealer, I'm willing to bet that they'll know how to find a
traveler."

He couldn't argue with that logic and stood still while she

corrected his attire, kissing his nose as she finished. He then watched as she
got into her own period garb, doing so much more efficiently than he had done.
She saw him looking at her and winked.

"In spite of my physics major, I also did a lot of work

in theater," she quipped, holding her top loosely in place over her
opulent tits. "I've been in Les Mis a few times, so I know my way
around period garb."

"I feel bad about you bringing that jewelry to trade

for money," he said, wishing he had more to offer. He didn't just yet,
however.

"Oh, they're nothing, it's just old gold I never

wear," she said dismissively. "I'd probably just end up selling them
in a pawn shop at some point. This way, at least it's getting some use. I sell
these things I never wear, we get the proper currency, then we go and have some
fun. I don't see how this can be a bad thing."

"I guess I just feel like it should be me paying."

Mark murmured, trying not to blush.

"Silly," she giggled again. "You're an

eighteen year-old boy. What one earth could you possibly have accumulated that
the time stream would be interested in?"

"Well, you got me there," he sighed, giving up and

letting her continue. "Maybe I'll make it big in the time stream and then
I can keep you buying you the presents you deserve."

"Ooh, you honey-dripper," she cooed, smiling and

kissing his nose before stepping back and examining him. "Well, you're
starting to look the part. I'll use some gel in your hair to tousle it a little
and then I think we're probably as close as we can get, since neither of us has
syphilis or tuberculosis."

He waited while she fixed his hair and then took care of her

own, pulling her golden locks back in a bow. She was wearing a peasant dress,
one that accentuated her small waist and large bust. His outfit, was more akin
to a gentleman of northern Europe, with a blue vest and white breeches that he
found rather tight, especially around the crotch.

"So, milord," she lilted, threading her arm

through his and smiling at him. "Shall we sally forth?"

He nodded and walked over toward the time machine, his chronometer

in hand.

17th Century, France.

"Combien allez-vous me donner pour ce

pendentif?" Becky asked the owner of the dingy little shop they were
standing in. Candles flickered on the walls, dimly illuminating the musty room.
The shop-owner, a wizened little man wearing crooked spectacles, looked up her
with rheumy eyes. He held out a gnarled hand and she gently put the dull gold
bangle into it. Her brought it close to his face, examining it intently. He
weighed it in his palm and then scratched the inner surface, testing its
contents. He licked his lip as he considered her offering. Finally he put it
down.

"Onze Louis," he declared, nodding. "Onze

Louis, quatre livres, douze sous et vingt-et-trois deniers."

Mark looked at Becky, who was considering what he had told

them. After a few seconds, she seemed to think he was being reasonable. "Bien.
Tout en livres et sous, s'il vous plait."

The man counted out one hundred and sixty-six sous

and pushed them across the counter. His eyes widened slightly as she pushed a
gold necklace and two rings to him for appraisal. Half an hour later, they
exited the shop with a small purse containing the equivalent of nearly fifty Louis,
a small fortune by the standards of the period and their locale.

"Here you go, milord," she said sweetly, pressing

the purse into his palm. "It's only appropriate that you carry our funds,
since you're the one cosplaying as the aristocracy."

"Except my French sucks balls." Mark muttered as

they walked down the dirt road. It was mid-morning and they'd arrived in a
fallow field outside the town. Google maps indicated that it was empty in the
modern day and online archive maps from France in 1652 indicated that it was
much the same way back then. With careful calculations of time and distance,
they'd arrived without incident.

"Well, you speak Spanish, so we'll pretend you're from

Madrid or something," she said simply, holding his arm again. "And
I'll be the lusty French tart from Rouen who travels with you, keeping you enamored
with our fair country."

"You'd be stupidly good at Larp, you're really getting

into this," he sighed.

Larp?”

Live action role playing. Any other hidden talents I should

know about?" Mark inquired.

"If I told you then they wouldn't be surprises,"

she pointed out. "We women love to be mysterious."

"Well, at least you're a woman, most of the girls I

know who do that stuff are just crazy."

"That's because they're teenage girls, who are, by

definition, 'bugfuck insane'." Becky added. "A lot of women are too,
I suppose, but at least there's a chance our hormones have straightened out.
Probably not much different here, except for the mortality rate."

They walked down the cobblestone rode, attracting the

occasional stare as they walked into the town. They stopped a stout,
middle-aged man and asked where they might get some decent food and
accommodations.

"You are dressed rather unusually to be

walking," he said, looking at Mark. "You seem to be a
gentleman of quality, sir. I am the town's physician and apothecary, my name is
Henri. And yours, monsieur?"

Mark stuttered. "Mark, uh; mon nom; es;”

"Marco," Becky interjected suddenly, relieving him

of the burden of struggling to make his name known in French. "He is
Senor Marco Del Strade, and he is a baron from Valencia."

"I thought I was from Madrid." Mark whispered out

of the side of his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm thinking on the fly here!"

she hissed back.

"What did the Spaniard say?" asked the

portly physician. "That didn't sound Spanish."

"A curse of our association," she said

sweetly, beaming a radiant smile at him. "The baron speaks no French,
and I no Spanish, so we communicate en Anglais, with which we both have some
facility."

"A rather unusual arrangement," grunted the

man. "Nonetheless, it would not do for our humble town to allow a
gentleman of quality to not be looked after. I would recommend L'Auberge
Des Loups."

"The Wolves' Inn?" Mark muttered out loud, knowing

enough French to get that translation. "That doesn't sound too safe."

"Be at ease, my friends," Henri said,

chuckling. "The wolf is on our town coat of arms, and the Inn is our
most reputable establishment. If you have the money, they will give you what
you need."

He turned and pointed down the road. "There, you can

see the inn from this spot. The two-story building with the gambrel roof and
all the smoke coming out of the chimney. See it?"

"Yes, good sir, and we thank you." Becky

said, curtseying before smiling at the man and putting his rather fat,
gout-ridden hand in hers. "For all of your help."

"Ah, well, yes," he said, blushing and

withdrawing his hand from hers. "When you go to the inn, tell the
proprietor that Henri sent you. This will make things easier for you."

And with that, the man waddled off.

"He seemed nice, I guess," Mark mused as they

resumed their trek into the town. "I mean, I missed a lot of what you two
said, but it seemed to agree with you."

"We just need to mention his name when we get to the

inn and that'll apparently make our lives easier." Becky replied, thinking
how quaint everything was. She couldn't believe she was actually in seventeenth
century France!

But then, she was fucking her former student who was a

time-traveler, so clearly anything was possible. She had already promised
herself she would enjoy every moment of this experience. She'd chosen the year
as carefully as possible, noting that there were no major Plague outbreaks
mentioned and she had insisted they bring very discretely concealed medications
with them.

Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, they continued down

the main street until they reached the inn. They tacitly avoided stepping in
the various effluences that trickled between the cobblestones and stepped over
the unconscious peasants who were sprawled in the middle of the street before
opening the faded green doors and entering.

Dark and musty, lit by wall sconces and an ancient

wrought-iron chandelier overhead in which guttered many candles, the large
common room was like something out of an HBO special, minus the lighting
budget. Large, round table dominated the space, while a great hearth and a long
counter encompassed most of the back wall. Lots of sun-browned peasant faces
turned to look at them while some stringed instrument plunked away from a corner.
The place smelled of smoke and what was probably body odor.

Still ignoring the stares, Becky led Mark up to the counter,

behind which stood a surly-looking man with a black moustache and beard. He
observed them with interest as they approached. Mark stood silently while Becky
addressed the man in French.

"My lord the Baron is looking for clean and

welcoming accommodations for the night," she began, indicating Mark.
"Henri sent us to you, saying that you were the establishment in this
town worthy of his business."

"If you can pay, then yes, we will be able to room

you comfortably," he answered, looking at Mark. "Our best room
is one livre per night. I assume the baron can afford this?"

She looked at Mark now. "A single night is one livre.

Those'd be the silver coins. Get one out and just give it to him, without
showing how much you actually have."

Mark nodded and fished out one of the coins indicated,

putting it on the counter for the proprietor to inspect. Satisfied, the man
nodded. "This will cover the room. If his lordship has need of a bath
or food, we can provide these things as well."

"Fresh food?" she asked pointedly.

"Only the freshest for the lord," laughed

the man loudly, causing people nearby to chuckle. "Is he a mute?"

"No, he is Spanish and speaks no French,"

she said flatly, fixing the man with a hard look. "You can speak to me,
his servant, if you feel the need to communicate. You can bring him food now,
and your finest wine, good sir."

She then turned and took Mark's arm, leading him over to an

empty table in the corner, once again ignoring the gazes that followed them.
She sat down and sighed, nodding.

"We'll eat and then see about the room and a

bath," she declared, looking around and taking everything in. "If
it's big enough, I'm sure we can get into all sorts of trouble in the
tub."

"I'd like that," he said, finally relaxing.

"I'm glad you're taking to this so easily, because I'm way out of my
element. London in the 1880's was hard enough, and all I was doing was
pretending I was an American traveler. France in the time of the Louis the Sun
King, that's a little out of my league."

"Don't worry, once you hit your stride, you'll do

fine," she said gently, patting his hand. "I've just had more weird
experiences over the course of my life than you have and am adapting a little
quicker is all."

A jug of wine, two goblets, some hearty bread with butter

and some onions and cheese was brought over by a wench who looked like John
Rhys-Davies in drag. She belched and tottered off, having delivered her goods.

"Although I'm not so sure about adapting to that."

Becky said, shaking her head to clear it of the image. She unstopped the jug
and poured the dark red wine into their goblets while Mark portioned out the
bread, butter, cheese and onions. They both dug in, finally realizing how
hungry they were.

"Oh, wow, that's good," Becky remarked, looking

into her goblet, having tried the wine. "Just remember to eat a lot of
bread and butter, Mark, or you'll have the hangover from hell."

He'd never had a wine quite like this before and they

quickly polished off the jug before ordering another. They finished their bread
and cheeses before being presented with a roasted suckling pig and two
pheasants, stuffed with local herbs. They enjoyed eating, but the wine was
strong enough to eventually get through all the food they'd lined their
stomachs with. Becky was giggling and tipsy within the hour.

"I can't beli; believe we're here in France," she

said, her head tilted to one side. "An' we're gonna fuck; in the tub; an'
then in our room, because; because; defiling the timeline; sounds like fun.
It's fun, you know, to fuck across history;”

"It is," Mark agreed, not as drunk as Becky but

still feeling rather buzzed. His tongue felt thick from the wine, which she had
explained was not treated with any modern pasteurization process and therefore
would be full of tannins and sediments they would need to account for or suffer
an assured hangover. "And you're the person I'd want to do it with,
Becks;”

Becky giggled and slid her hand along his leg, finally

arriving at his crotch and giving the bulged contained in the tight breeches a
squeeze. "You're not; not a time cop; you're a time cock; timeless cock;”

Some musicians had come in a few minutes earlier and were

sitting in another corner of the common room. They struck up a lively tune on
their lutes, fiddles and a small drum. Becky's eyes lit up as the music reached
them.

"Oh, I love this song!" she said loudly in English

before hopping up from the table and dancing her way with abandon into the
middle of the room. People watched on and began to clap and cheer as she stood
on a table and began capering.

"How the hell does she know this song?"

Mark wondered, frowning as he watched his Physics teacher begin to dance and
sing.

Ah!

Si mon moine voulait danser!

Ah!

Si mon moine voulait danser!

Un

capuchon je lui donnerais

Un

capuchon je lui donnerais

Danse,

mon moine, danse!

Tu

n'entends pas la danse

Tu

n'entends pas mon moulin, lon la

Tu

n'entends pas mon moulin marcher.

Mark watched in wonder as she tottered back over and flopped

onto the bench next to him, breathing heavily and perspiring. She grinned at
him lopsidedly and winked, still obviously rather inebriated.

"Why did you know the lyrics to that song?" he

asked, utterly baffled.

She poured herself more wine and drained her goblet in one

gulp, with a very loud Gluck! noise. Clearly, she was intent on
partying.

"Went to; a Catholic school; run by nunsh;” she

slurred, trying to fill her cup again. "Lotsh of shingin' to; keep our
little teen girl mindsh; off sheksh; Fuckin' love that shong, used to shing
that shong; all the' time; fuckin'; great to dansh to;”

"Yes, I noticed," he said, nodding and smiling.

"You were almost flashing your tits and your cunt at the; the patrons;”

"They can peek; but no touchy;” she said, taking

another drink. "Thish pushy; only for you; I think; we'll shee;”

She turned and looked at him, her eyes glazed and her skin

flush from her exertions. "We're here; together, Mark, but; if you; ya'
shee a girl ya' wanna fuck; I'm okay with; with that. "Jus' don' get the
crabs!"

She had broken into a snickering fit, pressing her forehead

against the table as she tried to not fall over completely. Mark was chuckling
and feeling really good watching how silly his teacher was being. She looked up
suddenly, trying to wear a serious expression.

"But one thing," she cautioned, holding up a

finger and wagging it at one of the Marks she was looking at. There were three
of them, so she chose the one in the middle. "No, moren one thing, but th'
one thing'sh; important;”

She leaned forward to whisper to him. "Keep your dicky

in your pantsh unlesh; unlesh you know she'sh eighteen; 'cush the lawsh right
now; 'she prolly legal to fuck 'em younger; but; you're from our time;
our time;”

She glowered at him drunkenly. "An' we don' fuck 'em if

they're not eighteen; ya' got it?"

He nodded. "Eighteen or older. Got it. And you can;

miss, you can’

"Not mish," she interrupted, waving away his

comment. "Becky. Not fuckin' mish, remember?"

"Sorry," he intoned, letting out a belch and

patting his chest. The wine and cheese tasted great but were really fucking
with him. "I'll be better; remember;”

"Well, what wash it I can do?" she asked.

"You were gonna; shay; I could do; what wash it?"

Mark thought about that for a moment, unable to push through

the wine-induced haze in his head. "I don' remember;”

They both broke into laughter, much to the amusement of

nearby patrons. Becky had her head on the table again, giggling until Mark
slammed his palm on it in an expression of entertainment, shocking her and
making her yelp. They looked at one another and burst into more fits of
laughter.

They'd drained another jug and polished off the pig and

pheasants. Mark felt incredibly full, and drunk. Becky could barely
stand up and she asked Mark to take her arm and lead them over to the
proprietor behind the long counter once again. She shook her head a few times
to clear it and he waited patiently for her to speak.

"Shir, we'll be needing the bath now, and our

room," she said slowly, making sure she could be understood. "Would
you be so kind ash to show ush the way?"

He tilted his head slightly. "Comment?"

"You just spoke to him in English, Becks." Mark

told her. Her glassy eyes widened and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing
herself not to die of embarrassment. "For fuck's sakes;” she muttered. She
took a deep breath and repeated herself in labored French. He nodded and led
them up the back, away from the common room.

It took Becky fifteen minutes to get up the single flight of

stairs because it wouldn't stop spinning.

Mark sighed as he sat in the large, round wooden tub, his

arms resting on the side while his hands gripped the rim. The steaming water
splashed over the side as he shuddered and groaned loudly, cumming. Spent, he
sank back onto the small ledge and breathed heavily. The water stirred and
Becky surfaced, exhaling. Her golden hair clung to her wetly and her glorious
tits glistened. She grinned at her student.

"See?" she declared, obviously pleased as she

pulled her hair over her shoulders. "Told you I could make you cum before
having to surface for air."

"Jesus, you must've been down there over two

minutes," he breathed, never ceasing to be stunned by her carnal skills.
"How the hell do you hold your breath that long?"

Becky cricked her neck and settled onto Mark's lap, her arms

around his neck. She gave him a peck on the nose. "Lots of cardio and
physical training."

"Obviously." Mark agreed. "Not that I'm

complaining, mind."

"Hmm, didn't think you would," she purred.

"But only half of this equation has been solved, big boy. I haven't cum
yet. Since you're friend down there is taking a nap, how good are you at
holding your breath?"

"Not that good," he chuckled. "I'm happy to

lick your cunt, but you'll need to keep it above water."

She smiled and rolled her eyes before getting off his lap.

He moved aside and allowed her to kneel on the little ledge he'd been sitting
on, leaning over the rim of the tub and resting her forearms on it. She looked
back at him and winked while wiggling her sexy, toned behind him. Her cuntlips
were dripping and looked inviting.

Mark knelt in the middle of the tub, behind Becky's ass and

took hold of it, kissing the wet cheeks. Becky cooed and squirmed under the
attention, one of her hands cupping a tit and squeezing it. She could feel
Mark's lips and tongue moving slowly inward toward her core. She bit her lip
and sighed.

He touched her cunt, kissing it gently and sliding his

tongue up and down the twat, which parted easily before him. Her heard her moan
and tasted her tang as he pushed inside her while using his thumbs to pull her
inner thighs apart so he could get further into his teacher's snatch. She
shivered and pushed back against him, eager for more.

"Hmm, Mark;” she cooed, her eyes shut as she felt his

tongue inside her. "Yes, right there, lover. Oh, you really know how to
use your tongue;”

He smiled at her compliment and pulled his tongue out to

massage her clit with it, rolling around the little bud and making her gasp
sharply. He slid a finger inside her, followed by another and she groaned. He
could feel her cunt tightening around his digits and began to push them back
and forth slowly while he nibbled and sucked her clit.

Becky shuddered again and leaned down, biting at her knuckle

while squeezing her tit harder, massaging it vigorously. Mark lashed her clit
while fingering her tight twat and then slid a single finger into her ass. Her
breath caught in her throat and she gripped the ledge of the tub, her fingers
raking along the iron-bound wood.

"Fuck, Mark," she whimpered. "Yes, make me

cum. I want to cum in your mouth!"

Mark worked her cunt harder, sliding the fingers back and

forth, pushing in deeper each time. His tongue massaged her clit relentlessly
or he sucked on it. She was squirming and writhing back against him, groaning
unashamedly. He was beyond caring if anyone heard them at this point.

Becky was panting heavily now, her eyes glazing over as she

ground her ass against Mark's face, feeling his fingers in her cunt and her
ass, wiggling and pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She would miss his
cum inside her, but she would surely get it before long, Mark was developing
good stamina under her guidance.

She arched her back and moaned loudly as she began to cum,

pleasure blossoming through her from her cunt and out to her fingers and toes.
Her body shook while she climaxed, the wet, gooey ecstasy of colors in her mind
letting her;

Invasion.

There was a smash, like wood splintering, the creak of worn

metal. Her eyes snapped open in confusion, the unreal delight of her orgasm
draining away as men in masks and dark clothes surged into the room, at least
five of them and more shadows in the hallway. Most were holding knives or small
clubs, but she saw the one in front carrying a heavy flintlock pistol. Even in
the darkness of the room, lit only by candles around the wall, she could see
the wicked scar on his cheek.

"Arrêtez! Reste tranquille et je ne te tuerai pas!"

he rasped, pointing his pistol at her while his comrades moved into the room
and began searching for something.

"Qui es-tu?" Becky demanded, getting angry

not only about the intruders, but the fact that her orgasm was slipping away.
She could feel Mark still kneeling behind her, looking on in shock at what was
happening.

"Tais-toi, salope!" the man barked, moving

toward her and drawing a wicked knife from his belt, his men now ransacking the
room. He placed the point of the knife at her throat and Mark felt a cold fear
run up his spine. "Do not speak to me in that tone if you’

He never finished the sentence as Becky grabbed the wrist of

the hand holding the knife and twisted, hard. The man with the scar yelped as
he lost his grip on the knife and the blonde woman leapt out of the tub, her
knee smashing into his face. He staggered backward and then went flying as her
foot slammed into his ribcage. He crashed through a table and this got the
attention of the thugs he'd brought with him. They all looked in shock at the
naked blonde tigress for a moment and then surged in on her, knives and cudgels
ready.

"A little help here, hero!" Becky shrilled as she

scampered away from the incoming bandits. "This isn't sex, don't make me
do all the work!"

"Hey now!" Mark protested, half-rising out of the

relative protection of the tub because of her taunt. "It's not like you do
all’

"Goddammit, Mark!" Becky shouted as she ducked the

swing of a club and punched her attacker in the balls. "You'd better hope
they kill us, because if I survive, I'm going to crack open your skull and suck
your brain out with a straw! Help me!"

Mark came to his senses and vaulted over the side of the

tub, trying not to think about the fact that he was buck naked and rushing
toward his teacher and her assailants. He crashed into the smallest man,
bearing him to the ground and winding him. Not sure what else to do, he began
punching the bandit, knocking his cloth mask askew so he could not see. The man
struggled wildly to get out from underneath his naked foe.

"Huh!" Mark choked out as another thug grabbed him

by the throat from behind and started pulling him off the man he was on top of.
He could feel his tongue beginning to bulge out of his mouth and was thinking
he must look incredibly foolish, like Jabba the Hutt when Princess Leia strangled
him with the chain.

He couldn't die like that. He couldn't. With a limp dick and

a swollen tongue? In front of Becky?

He'd taken some karate, although he was no expert. His skin

was still wet and he went limp, using sudden deadweight to break his attacker's
hold on his throat, although he hissed in pain when he felt the man's ragged
nails crease through his skin as he lost his grip.

With a thud! Mark hit the floor and did the only

thing he could think of doing; he grappled onto the man and took him down in a
rough tumble. He desperately rolled until he was on top and rammed his knee
into the man's stomach. He heard the man wheeze but then sparks exploded behind
his eyes as something cracked across the back of his head. He didn't fall over
but scrambled away in a panic, wishing he could see in the darkness or that the
room would stop spinning.

Becky landed in a heap on top of him, knocking him back to

the floor. She was still naked and incredibly angry from the sounds of her.

"That's it, buster!" she roared as she surged back

to her feet and charged her attacker. Mark dazedly looked over and watched as
his teacher sprinted across the room, her foe giving chase. She leapt in the
air and to the wall, her foot making contact. Before anyone was ready, she
sprang backward, smashing her foot across the man's jaw in a roundhouse kick
that they must have heard on the edge of town. The man went down like a sack of
flour.

"Alright, who's next?" she shouted, standing in

the middle of the room, naked and scratched up. She grabbed a pewter jug and
slammed it backward into the head of a man coming up behind her. He went down.

"I didn't know you did parkour!" Mark called out

as he tackled another thug from behind, taking him to the floor.

"I do a lot of things to take out my sexual

frustrations!" she snapped back, picking up a bench and throwing it at two
assailants to keep them off-balance. "Parkour, jiu-jutsu, archery,
Krav-Maga. I was kind of hoping that fucking would allow me to vent a little
steam!"

"I can see why!" Mark said as he smashed the man's

face into the floor repeatedly. Even in his weirdest dreams, he'd never
imagined fighting French bandits while buck naked. He wondered if the Temporal
Enforcement Agency would be up his ass about this incident.

"Oh, shut up!" she shrilled, kicking a man between

the legs from behind and then suplexing him after he doubled over in pain. The
floor splintered with the impact, but Becky rolled to her feet and grabbed his
cudgel. "You still owe me an orgasm, mister!"

"Okay, okay!" Mark said hastily. A sallow man

confronted him, wearing an eye-mask, who brandished a knobbed club. The bandit
grinned at him, clearly intent on bashing his head in. Thinking quickly, Mark
stood and looked somber, clasping his fist in his hand and bowing, like they
did in his mom's tai chi class.

The bandit looked confused for a moment before Mark bowed

again and then made a motion urging the bandit to do the same. Still not sure
what was happening but wanting to get on with things, the bandit bowed at the
waist clumsily.

Mark broke a chair over his head before grabbing the cudgel

and rushing to Becky's side.

"So very nice of you to join me," Becky panted as

they faced off against the three remaining intruders, who were trying to
surround them. Mark and Becky backed up toward the outer wall, the window
behind them. The men closed in.

There was a groan and a clatter as the man with the scar on

his cheek slowly got to his feet from the pile of broken furniture he'd been
laying in and approached them, his henchmen parting to make way for him.

"Pour votre arrogance, je vous verrai mort."

he growled, pointing his pistol at Mark. Trapped, Mark squeezed his eyes shut;

click!

Mark blinked and opened his eyes. The scar-faced man was

scowling at his pistol, which was letting off a small tuft of smoke but had
failed to go off. Was the powder wet?

With a roar of fury, Becky was on him.

"Get the other three!" she yelled as she

rearranged his face. "I've got this one!"

Too bewildered to be afraid and exhilarated to be alive,

Mark charged the remaining three thugs, who were all backing away in confusion.
None of this had gone according to plan, the majority of their fellow bandits
were strewn around the room, beaten unconscious by a naked man and a crazy
blonde hellion with big tits and a shaved cunt.

"C'est des conneries!" she raged as she

beat the man around the room, showing no mercy. "I came to the Sun King's
France to drink wine, have a good time and get laid! And you fuckers just had
to try and rob me, didn't you? All sorts of peasants to pick on, but no!
You thought you'd get lucky with two strangers! Well va te faire
enculer, pal!"

Mark lost track of the whirlwind of violence his teacher had

become while he ducked the swipe of a knife and then kicked the leg out from
under a thug, dislocating his knee and dropping him. He whirled around and got
lucky with the cudgel, cracking it across the jaw of another man, who spun like
a top and fell to the ground. He was beginning to notice that he was taller
than just about all these men, often by a significant margin. Some were barely
taller than Becky.

Had nutrition really been that bad in this era?

The last one got desperate and lunged at him, but Mark

twisted and used his foe's momentum to send him sailing past and smashing into
the window. The unconscious man slumped halfway through the shutter and the
sounds of commotion in the street below reached him. He shouldn't have been
surprised that they were causing a stir.

He looked around the room to see if any other foes were

standing, but saw only sprawled bodies everywhere, some stirring slightly. The
only other sound was that of a face being punched. He looked over to see Becky
squatting on the scarred man's chest, grappling into his collar and socking him
repeatedly in the mouth while swearing in French.

"Nique ta mere!" thump!

"Oh, you really pissed me off!" she growled as she

huiled the man up by the shirt and dragged him stumbling over to the tub, where
she pushed his head under the water. He thrashed about in a panic before she
let him back up, gasping for air.

"You like that?" she shouted, thumping his head

off the side of the tub several times for emphasis. "Ya' think it's funny
to barge into a girl's room when she's about to get her rocks off? Is that
it?"

She shoved his head back underwater again, waiting until he

was thrashing around in terror again before pulling him back out and dragging
him over to the bed. She threw him against it so that he was kneeling, supported
by the straw-stuffed mattress as he swooned.

"Hold him down, Mark;” she growled.

Unsure of what to do aside from comply, Mark got on the bed

and pinned the man's arms against the mattress, putting all his weight on them
to keep him in place. He watched in growing confusion as Becky knelt behind the
man and yanked his breeches down, exposing his pock-marked behind. She found
his flintlock pistol and glared at it for a moment before fiddling with the
mechanism, cocking it.

The man's eye flared wide and he howled in pain and horror

as she pushed the barrel inside his ass.

"Alright, buttercup," she said with a sweetness

that oozed cruelty. "You're going to explain who told you to come and rob
us. And if you don't, I pull the trigger and put your brains on the
ceiling."

Mark warily shuffled aside on the bed, away from the top of

the man's skull.

"Do you understand me?" Becky asked quietly,

giving the pistol a jiggle.

"Probably not," Mark said, trying to sound

conciliatory. "You're speaking English again."

Becky realized he was right and swore under her breath.

Rather than say it all again in French, she decided to just get to the point.
She pressed the pistol in an inch further, ignoring the resistance she
encountered.

"Dites-mois qui vous a envoye," she

growled. "Tell me or I blow an asshole in the top of your head."

"Henri!" the scar-faced man gasped and whimpered.

"He told us you would be here and you have much money!"

"Oh, did he now?" Becky growled, forgetting to

speak French as she glared at the bandit. "I am going to eat that man's
children;”

She roughly grabbed the man and spun him around to face her,

without removing the pistol muzzle from his ass. His face was pale with fright
and artfully rearranged by her fist. He was still leaning back against the bed,
not daring to move, breathing heavily.

"Maintenant," Becky began, still glowering

at him. "You're going to tell me where to’

She paused as she looked down at the man's crotch and saw

that he was sporting a throbbing erection.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted angrily,

yanking the pistol out of his ass and then slamming the grip across his head
with a loud crack! The bandit's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped
to the ground, very unconscious.

"Huh," Mark said as he glanced down at the prone

villain. "I guess guys really can get erections from that sort of thing. I
thought it was bullshit."

"It ought to be, under these circumstances," Becky

groused, folding her arms and looking pissed off. "You don't spring wood
when a girl's got a gun shoved up your ass, especially after you try to rob
her! I don't feel the least bit bad about not giving him a reach-around.
Fucker;”

"Would you really have pulled the trigger and blown his

brains out?" he asked somewhat nervously.

"Oh, of course, not," she snorted, giving him a

wry look. "I'm not a monster."

"You sure fight like one." Mark said, using his

hand to indicate the carnage around the room. Bad guys were strewn everywhere,
and he was pretty sure he couldn't claim most of them.

"Well, they had it coming," she sniffed.

"They interrupted my orgasm. It's just rude."

She then turned and looked at him, her expression much

softer. "Thank you, Mark, for all your help. You saved me, I couldn't have
done it on my own."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't have been in danger if I

hadn't brought you here in that damn time machine." Mark said, a feeling
of guilt washing over him.

She knelt next to him on the bed and hugged him close, their

bodies pressing together. She smiled at him and kissed his nose.

"Don't be sad," she cooed. "I haven't had

this much adventure in ages."

Mark smirked. "If you've got romps in your past that

compare to this, I wanna hear about them."

"Oh, you'll need to do a lot more fucking to coax those

out of me, young man," she whispered, reaching down between them to take
gentle hold of his cock and begin stroking. "But maybe I won't make it too
difficult for; Mark, it's very rude to stare off into space while a girl is
trying to seduce you. Mark?"

"I'm not staring off into space, Becks." Mark

said, staring past her shoulder.

"Oh, really?" she asked, putting her hands on her

hips and looking annoyed, still kneeling in front of him. "Then what is so
fascinating that even my tits can't distract you?"

He indicated a direction behind her with a nod.

"Voyeurs."

Becky turned her head slowly and looked across the room at

the door. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed several dark shapes in the hallway,
gazing into the room in astonishment. With a sigh, she got off the bed, grabbed
a candle that hadn't been destroyed and walked over to the door, clearly beyond
caring that she was still naked. She could see men and women now, backing up
uncertainly at her approach.

She also spied one particular silhouette, large and with a

big beard, lurking near the back and trying to not be seen.

"Oh no you don't, pal," she called out, snapping

her fingers and then pointing at the man before making a beckoning motion.
"Get your sorry ass over here;”

Henri, the peasant girls, and hospitality.

Mark sighed in pleasure and took another drink from the jug

of wine he was holding, trying to not spill any. He pulled his lips away and
looked down his body. He was sitting in a large, plush bed, blissfully naked.
Between his legs, a local girl with dark brown hair girl was bobbing her mouth
up and down on his cock ardently, clearly interested in pleasing him.

"This one's the innkeeper’s daughter?" he mused,

enjoying her mouth. She paused sucking on him for a moment to look up and smile
eagerly before returning to her task. "She loves cock for sure."

"She's one of his daughters," Becky agreed,

propped up beside him, equally naked and holding the head of a girl who was
lying between her legs, her face buried in the blonde's cunt, which she was
licking hungrily. "This is the other one."

"You frightened him so badly that he's letting us fuck

his daughters?" Mark laughed. "He's given us his personal quarters,
given us all the food and drink we want and we can fuck his
daughters?"

"What can I say, I'm persuasive." Becky grunted,

shivering and grinding herself into the face of the daughter. "He'll let
us stay for the week, he doesn't want word getting around that a noble had a
fiasco in his inn. He'd probably give us his wife, too, if I demanded it. We're
too close to Paris and word would get around and wreck his business."

"If trashing that room and leaving bandits everywhere

doesn't, nothing would." Mark breathed, holding the girl by the hair.
"Seriously, it looks like Metallica stayed in that room now. What'll we do
about that Henri asshole?"

"I'll think of it later, I'm a little busy." Becky

hissed, squirming and knotting her fingers in the peasant girl's hair.
"Uh, it's been so long, since a girl ate me."

"You had a sexy phase? I didn't know you liked girls."

Mark said, smirking at her.

"Back in high school, maybe," Becky admitted.

"Haven't been with one since then."

"But I do have a question," he said, focusing past

the daughter's wicked mouth. "In all the hassle and afterward, I never
asked the innkeeper how old his daughters were."

"So?" Becky gasped, eyes squeezed shut and bucking

her hips.

"Well, what if they're not eighteen? You said yourself

that we have to hold ourselves to the standards of the time we come from,
right?"

"You're thinking of that now?" she groaned

through clenched teeth. "I; fuck; Mark, it's 1640 right now. That means
these girls can't be any less than three hundred and ninety-two in our time.
Good enough?"

"Good enough!" he laughed. Rationalization seemed

to be a handy skill when you were time travelling. He looked over and saw Becky
pull the girl away from her crotch and rustle over to him. He stayed still
while she straddled his lap, facing down his body. With one hand, she took hold
of his cock and held it steady while she positioned herself above it. The two
sisters, every bit as naked as them, nestled on the bed below his legs,
pressing against one another's sides. They grinned at one another and kissed,
their tongues tangling as they waited for Becky to continue.

With a sigh, his teacher lowered herself onto his cock, the

mushroom head splitting her wet lips before sliding inside her. She sunk down
with a groan until he was in to the hilt. She then slowly laid herself back
against him, allowing Mark fondle her tits while she squirmed and writhed on
him. The sisters moved in and began licking at his cock or kissing her cunt
lips and clit while the two guests fucked.

"Oh, Heaven;” Becky purred as she caressed his cheek,

turning her head to kiss him, their tongues slithering around while she
undulated slowly on his lap. "This is what time travel's all about;”

Mark held her with one hand, fondling her tits and pinching

her nipples while his other hand found the wine jug and poised it just over her
torso. She hummed in pleasure as he trickled the dark red liquid over her fair
skin, letting it cascade down her exquisite form. One of the sisters noticed
and knelt up, beginning to lick it off Becky's tits and stomach while the other
noisily slurped it from the Mark's cock and Becky's cunt.

"God, forget the Sun King's France, we belong in

Caligula's Rome," Becky moaned, shivering in delight at how decadent they
were being. "We'll need to; hmm; we'll need to find time to attend an
orgy, Mark; how's your Latin?"

"Not as good as yours, I imagine," he replied, his

tongue still swirling around with hers while they fucked. "But I'd be
happy to learn it if we can attend a real orgy."

He put the jug of wine aside and used both hands to molest

her again, squeezing her tits and gripping her skin. Becky writhed and him,
pressing down with her hips, shuddering as the two sisters licked her and
nipped at her skin. She begged the universe not to let anything interrupt the
orgasm she could feel building inside her.

"Umm, Mark;” she moaned into his mouth. "I'm going

to cum so hard on you."

"I'm gonna cum too," he gasped, feeling his

muscles beginning to tingle and his toes curl. "My first four-way, ya'
know."

"Hmm, cum in me!" she whimpered, moving her hips

in circles faster and faster, kissing him ardently. "Let me feel it!"

He was gripping her tightly, pulling her down onto his

throbbing cock, his legs starting to squirm and then she went rigid, gasping
before breaking the kiss and moaning loudly and shamelessly. She ground down on
him ferociously as he blasted a full dose of cum inside her, pumping his hips
for all he was worth. The peasant sisters licked and lapped eagerly at them,
clearly also fingering themselves to orgasm, as they too whimpered and groaned
in pleasure.

Becky sagged on top of Mark, their bodies glistening from

their exertions, flush with pleasure. She nuzzled her lips against his neck
while he caressed her tits and stomach gently, the two of them basking in the
aftermath of their lovemaking. The sisters kept kissing and licking dutifully,
clearly not considering their task accomplished.

"Best sex I've had in centuries," Becky giggled

into his ear before nipping the lobe. "You sure know how to show a girl a
good time."

She slowly straightened herself up and then turned around to

straddle his lap but look into his face. Her arms were around his shoulders
while his rested on her waist. His cock slipped out of her and one sister began
sucking it clean while the other leaned in to kiss Becky's ass and lap at her
cunt lips while Mark's pearly cum trickled out of them.

"It's a good thing I've got iron control of

myself," Becky whispered softly to him while gazing into his eyes.
"Because a girl could fall for a guy quite easily under these
circumstances."

He smiled and rubbed his nose against hers. "Yeah, I

could fall for you too, teach. Never known anyone like you before. Hell, I
didn't know you were like you before I got that dumbass idea of trying to go
back in time and seduce you."

She kissed his nose and smiled. "Well I'm glad you did.

I think this worked out well for both of us, wouldn't you say?"

"I couldn't agree more." Mark murmured as he

kissed her again. This was a very interesting week so far.

"Miff-miff-murf!" Henri protested through the

cloth gag that was stopping up his mouth. He was decidedly naked, his hands
bound while he was tied and trussed up in rope like some sort of shibari
revenge nightmare. He was on all fours, his knees and elbows on the ground.
Worse still, the crazy blonde woman had poured oil all over his exposed ass,
making it shine like a beacon.

Mark looked around at their surroundings, in the woods just

off to the side of the road. You'd have to be blind not to see Henri from
there. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"Since our friend took it upon himself to see us get

robbed and potentially raped and killed, I'd say yes," Becky replied,
standing over their captive, her arms crossed under her tits while she looked
down at him. "Normally I'd never consider it, but let's be honest, he has
this coming."

"Which brings me to my next question," Mark said,

finishing tying one of the ropes that bound Henri to a tree. He wasn't going
anywhere. "What is it you think he has coming?"

"Whatever," Becky said, her voice indicating she

didn't really care. "He might get raped by a bear, maybe a gypsy caravan
will find him, ants might crawl up his ass, who knows? With any luck, though,
no one will rescue him before rectal trauma ensues."

She squatted down in front of him now and removed the gag

from his mouth. He coughed and sputtered for several seconds before glaring up
at her, his face red with outrage.

"Vous etes fou, salope!" he snarled,

breathing heavily from the awkward position he had been kept in. He was
essentially face-down and ass-up in a forest. "Vous etes fou!"

"If that's true, then it's men like you who make me

that way." Becky sneered. "We were perfectly nice to you and
you betrayed us. This is a lot better than you deserve, since you tried to have
us killed."

He glared at her hatefully. "Souillon!"

Becky's eyes widened in shock at the epithet, but before she

could react, Mark had lunged in, knelt and punched Henri in the face. The
Frenchman went unconscious. Mark glared at him in fury before standing up and
looking at Becky, shaking the sting out of his fingers.

"I don't know a lot of French, but I know what that

was," he said to her. "You're right, he deserves a conga-line of wolf
cocks up his ass.”

“ I’m not a whore! Sure, I’m a slut, but I don’t fuck for

silver!” Becky vented.  “Let's get out of here before anyone sees us,
though."

Her smile was a glowing one as she looked at her student,

her valiant knight in shining armour who had defended her honor. Okay, maybe he
was more of a retard in tinfoil, but he'd get there. He'd have all the time he
needed, literally.

"Let's go," she said gently, threading her arms

through his and leading him back to the road. "We have money to spend and
lots of places we could be making love in. The Sun King's France awaits us.

"Ya' know, I was thinking we could probably have a lot

of fun without getting in too much trouble." Becky mused as they sat in
the back of a coach, holding hands while it rumbled down a dirt road.
"It'd be great to do things like attend rock concerts we both weren't
alive for, like Woodstock, or the Beatles rooftop concert."

"Yeah, that would be pretty cool." Mark agreed,

smiling at her. "You're pretty damn cool, Becks."

"Thanks, I've worked hard to become so," she said

sweetly. "You've turned out to be a pretty nifty guy yourself. And here
you seem like such a dough head in my class. Cute, though."

"That does bring up a point," Mark mused.

"Since I first visited you, we've been fucking and messing around, but
we're still out of sync."

She thought about what he was saying. "Hmm, the you I'm

talking with is from three months in my future. I see your earlier self
in physics class, and just smirk to myself, thinking about how I'm going to
probably fuck you that night. You have no idea how hard it is to not stare at
your bulging crotch or your tight ass."

"And I was too dumb to notice," he sighed.

"But I'm worried it might become a problem. I keep coming back in time to
see you, but you never catch up. It might end up causing one of those time
knots or whatever the agents called it."

"And waiting three months to see you would suck,"

she muttered, scowling at the floor. "It won't make a difference to you,
but for me, it'll seem like forever."

"What if; what if we broke it up into chunks?"

Mark suggested.

"So, you don't visit me every night like you do now but

say every two weeks or something?" Becky mused. "That could work,
although you'd better toughen up, because I'll be going crazy between visits,
humping my bedposts in desperation. When you step through my door, I'll probably
tackle you and try to fuck you to death."

"Helluva way to go," he laughed. "But I do

think it's a good idea to sync up our timelines, even if it means we have to
fuck less for a bit."

"From my point of view," she grumped. "But

you're right. Well, I am going to Hawaii for a week, I suppose you could join
me."

"I remember you doing that," he said. "We got

stuck with that awful sub, the one we all call Miss Grundy. Pretty sure we were
all glad when you got back. So, you won't mind me tagging along to Hawaii with
you?"

"It'll be fun," she giggled, stroking his hand.

"We'll go to luaus, make love on a black sands beach and in the bamboo
groves;”

He considered. "We'll need a way for me to make some

money so I'm not a burden. We have access to a time machine, how hard can it
be?"

They paused the conversation as they felt the coach slow

down and come to a stop. There was nothing but silence for several seconds.

"What now?" Becky muttered, wondering if someone

was going to try and rob them again. Her hand left Mark's lap and came to rest
on the flintlock pistol hiding beside her.

A little slot in the front of the coach opened and a sly,

pencil-mustachioed face grinned back at them.

"Pardon my intrusion," he said in what could only

be described as a New England accent. "But my name is Chester Edgeworth,
and I couldn't help but overhear that you're looking to clear a tidy little
profit from your time travelling?"

To be continued in part 3. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

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