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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

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