tagMatureThe Cock Clock Ch. 01

The Cock Clock Ch. 01

byHarveyMarcus©

WARNING:

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!

This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.


* * * * * * * * * *

It was a beautiful Saturday morning in September, and I'd intended on getting up early for a drive into the country. A few small communities within reasonable driving distance were sponsoring craft and antique fairs, and I wanted to surprise my wife with a unique present for her birthday. She expected a gift card to one of favorite stores, since that was my modus operando, but I was bound and determined to exceed her expectations.

But I'd overslept. No Maggie to wake me for my outing. She was visiting her sister for the weekend. And our daughter Felice was visiting a college within Amtrak train distance for a whirlwind three-day tour. I couldn't believe my baby girl was eighteen and a woman. Actually, I had to keep those thoughts out of my head or I'd end up with an unfortunate erection. No matter how many times I warned her, she'd still prance around in her underwear or, lately, lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. Not that I'd ever lay a hand on her, but sometimes the temptation was awfully strong.

It was already ten o'clock, and by the time I got to the nearest event, it would be noon. I took a flash shower, skipped shaving, and drove faster than traffic but no so fast as to be obvious ticket fodder. I drove under a street-wide banner in front of the high school that Felice attended, announcing their state basketball championship. An article in the local paper made a big deal of how the crowd's support, incited by the cheerleaders, made all the difference in close games.

All of the close-up parking had been taken, and the crowds had settled in for their lunch. I parked in the only available lot, close to half a mile from the shops and booths. The temporary stands had identical items imported from overseas. Nothing original or unique. The permanent antique shops were more interesting and held the promise of a wow present. Maggie deserved the best, and putting in the effort to find just the right thing would make me her hero. I needed the Brownie points for too many late nights at the office and too many guy nights out.

Around the next corner at garden level, there was a weather-beaten sign, ANTIQUIES, and wooden door that matched. I crept down the stone steps. A bell jostled by the opening door announced my arrival. An older woman approached. A few decades earlier, she would have been attractive. As a young woman, probably a knockout. "How can I help - oh, it's you. I've been expecting you."

I started to speak. She put two fingers on my lips. "You want something special." She examined me, from head to toe. "I have just the item. Follow me."

There was too much sway in her hips for a woman of that age. My imagination, fueled daily by Felice, kicked into gear and I was half erect by the time she'd stopped. She gave me another once-over, and I hoped she wouldn't notice my condition. "Yes, you're exactly the right man." She opened a cabinet, blew off lingering dust, and extracted a silver alarm clock from the cupboard. "Hand-made. One of a kind." She put it in my hand.

It was pretty with an abstract design on the face and oddly shaped hands. "Thanks, but I don't think my wife would like-"

Those two fingers silenced me again. "This is for you. You were meant to possess it." 'Possess' sounded like the hiss of a snake.

I looked closer. The face wasn't an abstract design after all. It was a woman's face inside another woman's face, each one getting smaller. And the hands of the clock. Thick with rounded tips. Shit, they looked like penises! "I really can't afford-"

She touched my arm. "How much change do you have in your pocket?"

I reached in, my hand alone-side my erection. I retrieved the coins and counted. "Seventy-two cents."

"Sold!" She clasped my hands around the clock and surrounded them with her own. "It keeps perfect time, but the alarm is broken. So, please don't set the alarm. Promise me."

What would be the harm in setting the alarm, if it wasn't working? But I humored her. "Fine, I won't set the alarm."

She relaxed and smiled. "Good. I will get you a receipt." She waddled off. My cock twitched. If she were younger, I'd have been tempted to make a pass. She returned with a generic sales slip on which she'd written the price - seventy-two. AS she handed me the slip of paper, she rubbed my back. She was feeling something, too.

"Thanks." I wondered if there was another bargain to be had, this time for Maggie. "Maybe you can help me find something just as nice for my wife?"

She looked stern, as if I'd insulted her. "There is nothing more here for you. Today." She crossed her arms.

Was that an invitation to return? Because I'd want a refund on an old clock? Not for seventy-two cents I wouldn't. She'd made it clear that I was no longer welcome. "I'll find my way out."

I walked to the door. Looking back, the woman was no longer visible. Perhaps she'd gone off to put my seventy-two cents in her cigar box register. I smiled at the image.

Outside, dark clouds had moved in, and moisture was in the air. I ran for my car and got the door open just as the heavens dumped buckets. Leaving the area was less of a problem because I was already past the congested parking. Finding Maggie a gift would have to wait for the next day.

I used the home alone opportunity to sneak one of my porn tapes out from hiding behind the encyclopedia set that no one in the house ever touched. Even though I'd seen it before, it got me erect. That, my wife's soon-to-be return, the memories of Felice and the sexy ass of the shopkeeper all worked to get me hard. I could have easily masturbated myself, but I wanted to save myself for Maggie's homecoming.

I dressed for bed by stripping nude. Although I wouldn't do that when Maggie or Felice were around, I liked the feeling of my naked body on the cool sheets. I didn't remember putting my antique alarm clock on the nightstand, but there it was, shining silver. I wound the back and saw the ALARM lever and time control. What harm would it do if I tried setting it, so that I didn't oversleep again? In the worst case, I'd just wake up naturally, late or not. I set the alarm hand, another smaller penis, for seven A.M., so I could get a better start for my search. I flicked the ALARM lever to ON, curled up under the covers and dozed off.

I awoke to the bells of my alarm clock. What did that old woman know, anyway? The alarm feature worked fine. I reached to turn it off and felt my naked body against something - someone. There was a woman in bed writhing against me.

"Oh my goodness!" She sat up, her cotton nightgown snug across her breasts. "What are you doing in my bed?"

I scanned the room. I wasn't in my bedroom. Evidently I was in hers. But how did I get there?

She threw back the covers, exposing my naked body and morning wood. It didn't help that she was pretty and that her nightgown had shifted high on her thighs, exposing two very shapely legs. "I've heard about men like you."

"Me? Men like me? No, this is a mistake. I shouldn't be here."

"Darn right you shouldn't. But you snuck in here anyway, took off your clothes, and slipped into bed. You're here to rape me, aren't you?"

"No, of course not." I stood. My waving erection did not give me credibility. "I don't do things like that. Not to strangers."

"Oh, so you only rape women you know? You do look familiar." Her eyes were on my penis, not my face. "Well, I've had rape training, so I'm prepared."

"You are?" I raised one arm across my face and one in front of my genitals, preparing for the worst.

"Yes, they explicitly told us that, if we were ever in this position, that to protect our lives, we should let the rapist have his way with us. That way, when he was finished, he'd just leave. No bodily harm that way." She pulled the nightgown up over her hips and over her head. Now we were both nude. Seeing her bare breasts, round and full with hard nipples and a thatch of pussy hair between her thighs, my erection hardened.

She noticed. "Well, are you going to do it or not?"

"Not," I replied.

"Seeing that we're both naked, and you're prepared, you'd better. If you don't, I'll scream my head off." She closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide.

In retrospect, I could have rummaged for something to wear and bolted from the house. But I didn't see any of my clothes in the room. It wasn't my bedroom, after all, and it was unlikely that any of the woman's clothes would fit me. I also didn't know who else was in the house, if they had access to weapons. In fact, the only thing I knew for sure was that a beautiful woman was going to let me have intercourse with her.

So I did the only reasonable thing. "Lay back and spread you legs," I commanded.

She did. A bit of pink flesh peeked out from between the dark curls. I climbed between her legs.

"You'll want me to help you, I bet."

I nodded. So the mystery stranger tugged my penis forward, putting the head between her labia. I pulsed my hips forward. She grunted. I tried again, another grunt. I laid on her, my head hovering above hers. Her eyes were closed, as if she was concentrating. Her clips were moist, full. I kissed her and slammed forward. The kiss muffled her shout. God, was she a virgin? With a body like that, I'd assumed she'd already had sex, and often.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

'Oh, I bet you are. You probably look for young women who haven't given themselves up. You take pleasure in introducing them to - you call it fucking. So go ahead, do what you came here to do. Fuck me."

Her language was an aphrodisiac. I pulled back a bit and pushed deeper. She moaned. "You're doing it, aren't you? You're giving me my first taste of cock."

"Yes, I am. And you're going to enjoy it."

Her face turned red. "I already am."

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me like a typewriter, a steady stream of pecks on my lips, cheeks, chin, all over my face. Meanwhile, I humped in and out, deeper and deeper, giving in to all of my pent-up lust. This woman wasn't Maggie or Felice, or even the woman from the antique shop. But she was getting the best sex I could offer, which according to Maggie was pretty good.

Her breathing got shallow, and her muscles tensed in her legs. She was going to have an orgasm, and I wasn't far behind. As her legs wrapped around my waist I made my final approach. Long slow penetrations, so I could feel every inch of her tight vagina caressing my cock. A few quick jabs at the deepest, and my cock exploded. Her pussy clamped down as I shot her full of sperm. Too bad for Maggie, I thought.

I lay there for a few moments to catch my breath and then rolled off her body. She almost jumped from the bed, pulled her nightgown back on and motioned at the door. "You have to go now."

"I don't have any clothes-"

Her finger pointed to shirt and pants, underwear, socks and shoes. Not mine, but what looked to be my size. As I dressed, I glanced at her nightstand. A calendar told me the year - 1957, fifty-four years in the past. I'd time traveled? My head was still spinning when I saw the silver alarm clock I'd just purchased. "Where did you get this?"

"From my mother as a birthday gift on my eighteenth birthday. Why?"

Next to the clock was a photo of two females, the young woman I'd just deflowered and an older woman. "And who are these?"

"Silly man! That's me, and that's my mother."

Mother looked very much like the shopkeeper. Even the daughter resembled the shopkeeper, just at a younger age. I was about to ask more questions but the door burst open. Standing there was a man, probably my conquest's father, with a baseball bat in hand. "What are you doing in my daughter's room? And her in her sleeping clothes?"

The young woman hung on her father's shoulder. "Daddy, he was just leaving. He didn't do anything."

The smell of sex made his daughter out to be a liar. His face reddened as he swung the bat in a small arc. "I think he done something, something he hadn't the right doing."

"Daddy, I did what I was supposed to do. Now we should let him leave." Her arms slipped around her father's chest, limiting his arm motion.

I snaked past him as he thumped the bat into his palm.

I was just through the doorway when I heard the young woman holler, "Daddy!" and felt the bat collide with the back of my head.

- - -

I batted my eyes open. Where was I? I felt for a lump. There was a headache but no bruise. I was naked, just as I'd gone to bed. The alarm clock sat on the nightstand, with the ALARM turned off. I scratched my head. That was the hottest dream I'd had in a long while. So realistic. Then I noticed blood and semen stains on my flaccid penis. I searched for an open cut but didn't find any. Could that experience have been real? Impossible! There's no such thing as time travel. I sat on the edge of the bed for a while, contemplating the memories and promising myself not to turn on the alarm again. And maybe visiting that old shopkeeper with a few questions.

* * * * * * * * * *

### An Original H M Tale ###

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Copyright (c) 2012, HarveyMarcus. All Rights Reserved.

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