Time Bender

The first time it happened, I was confused and embarrassed. My husband, Michael, was sitting across the table from me in the restaurant. We were chatting about life. Nothing was unordinary about the place, the setting, the topics. It was pleasant, normal, comfortable, save perhaps the occasional roaming eye of our young waiter who seemed to have a thing for the full breasts of a married woman. His attention was not enough to make me feel awkward, but plenty enough for Michael to notice.

Here and there, Michael dotted a few sentences between us with gentle teasing about the apparent delight our young waiter seemed to take in me. I simply rolled my eyes or brushed off his comments with a wave of my hand as if he were being silly. I am no different than any other woman. It is flattering to be the object of other men's attraction, within reason; especially younger, fit, could-be-a-model waiters. But the chances were remote at best that I would feel any real sense of arousal.

So, it was confusing and embarrassing, not to mention shocking, when one moment we sat chatting like usual and the next moment I sat in what felt like a pool of wetness. In a flash of a moment, I felt the change.

At first, I thought I had somehow wet my pants or unwittingly spilled something. But, there is no way that could have happened without me knowing; not without at least a split second or two of conscious actions unfolding with the resulting consequences of my experience.

No. One second all was normal. The next, I had what felt like a full load of sexual fluid oozing between my legs. Michael and I had made love two days earlier. There was no way possible it could be... Yet, as impossible as it seemed, it was real.

I kept my thoughts, and wetness, to myself. I did not feel comfortable letting on to Michael. I did not understand what was happening, but I was sure that Michael would think it had something to do with the attention the waiter gave me. That was a topic for playful teasing. I was not feeling in the mood for being either playful or a tease at that moment.

When we got home, I immediately undressed to take a shower. As I peeled off my panties, I was dazed by the sticky mess embedded in the fabric and smothered in my flesh. I nervously studied the wetness. In seconds, I had no doubt it was a messy load of cum.

I quivered as I wondered how did it get there?! How did that happen? I began to wonder if perhaps something medical was wrong with me. I shuddered. I showered. I worried.

For two days, I held my secret. I considered going to the doctor, but I did not have the nerve. It was too weird, borderline perverted. What was I supposed to say? "Doctor, I discovered a load of cum in my panties that seem to come out of nowhere. Can you help me?"

Then on the third day, it happened again. Michael and I were home watching TV. He had chosen a movie, an erotic thriller, for us watch. Halfway into the movie, he paused the movie to get us drinks. After returning from the kitchen and giving me a cold glass of fruit juice, we continued to watch the movie. Then, moments later, it happened again.

Sitting there next to him, in a split second, I suddenly felt that same wetness out of nowhere. One second I was watching the movie, amused at how cheesy the gratuitous nudity was, the next I was smothered in a sticky load of wetness against my pussy and oozing between my legs.

I got up to go to the bathroom. "Everything okay, sweetie?" Michael asked.

"I'm fine. I just have to go to the bathroom."

He paused the video as I fast forwarded down the hallway. Then I hit reverse in my mind, desperately searching for anything that could make sense of what I again felt between my legs. Peeling my panties down. A sticky load of cum. Confusion.

I rinsed and quickly changed into the oversized tee I wore to bed. I knew Michael would have no objections to me sitting at his side wearing that as we watched the jiggling and grinding bodies of so many young coeds in the video. This was not the first time we watched such a movie. I knew what was to follow as the final credits rolled across the screen.

Then, about a week later, my world changed forever. I had yet a third experience. I could no longer keep my secret from Michael. I was scared. So, I opened up to him.

What I heard from him, the explanation he gave me, absolutely rocked my world. Even as I type this, I find it difficult to believe, even though I have been living under the influence for over a year now.

In short simple words, Michael explained that he had been working for years on a chemical mixture designed to produced a drug-induced, time-altering, sequence that allowed a person to inject themselves between the moments that made up the present. His work, as both a physicist and a high-level, top-secret,intelligence agent, had finally made a breakthrough. He had discovered, or more accurately created, a chemical substance that when taken allowed a person to "bend time."

"Time benders," he explained, "can slip between the slivers of time-consciousness. Like the gaps in those mini-blinds," he pointed towards our window, "real time has small gaps that are void and unexperienced."

I sat stunned.

"Time benders can slip into those gaps, those microfragments of time. These time benders can become embedded in those points of time as they choose."

I sat with a lost look in my eyes.

"Based upon dosage, a time bender can remain embedded for a span ranging from a very brief fragment or an expansive slot of time."

I still did not understand.

"Kathleen. I have been experimenting with you for the past month. At first, I slipped in between your time frames for mere seconds, making sure I could enter and exit by design. I only observed, then exited."

I was dazed.

"Then, I began to explore. Testing limits. Examining the scope of time available and what actions could be executed."

I mumbled, "in my time."

"Yes, Kathleen, in your time, but beyond the receptors of your awareness, spaced in the gaps of time that exist between your consciousness. You are completely unaware of my presence, yet completely integrated within it."

I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. "So..." I could not find the next word to speak.

"So," Michael continued, "I suspect that you have experienced some, um, perplexing memories and even some unexplained sensations?" He had a sly smile on his face as he looked at me intently.

I muttered, "Yes, you could say that."

His sly smile turned a bit more wicked as he countered, "Perhaps I could say a bit more than that."

I shuddered, "Perhaps."

It felt as if his eyes looked deep into my soul as he said, "Perhaps I could say things about thoughts and evidences that you have kept secret from me. Such things that reflect a level of arousal dripping from your wonderful body that I love so dearly."

All I could do was sit dumbfounded and nod to affirm his words.

"Perhaps, you have experienced pleasures you could not imagine in slivers of time that have left small traces of evidence?"

As if I were under a spell, sitting in a passive trance, I listened and nodded.

"Dare I divulge more details which may ease your mind, and perhaps torture it is well?" His words had a soothing tone, yet were dripping with danger.

He stroked my hair. He brushed his fingers along my neck and shoulders the way he knew I loved. Then his soft fingers slithered along the edge of the collar line of the tank top I was wearing. Slowly his finger brushed back and forth like a pendulum marking time.

"Perhaps you want to know, even need to know, what time bending activities might have occurred in your subconscious?"

As my body quivered at his touch, at his words, I silently nodded, giving him permission to illuminate me further.

His arms cradled me closer to him as he began to speak further. "You remember the night in the restaurant?"

I nodded.

"You remember that handsome waiter. How his eyes enjoyed you. How his thoughts manipulated you in his mind."

I did not move. I did not speak. I could only listen as a level of anxiety, even fear, gripped me.

"One moment we were laughing and giggling about the attention he was giving you. And then, the very next moment something happened, didn't it?"

I nodded, no words, to indicate 'yes' to Michael.

"And now, at this moment, as you wrap your mind around what I am telling you, there are questions you need to ask, aren't there?"

Michael was trying to delicately lead me to the point where I could receive and accept the unthinkable and unbelievable. I could tell his words were increasingly mixed with less patience and more desire; his words possessing a sense of lust that I could recognize in him. As I cuddled up next to him as if he were my protector against an unknown beast on the prowl, I spoke in almost a whisper.

"Yes. I have questions."

He smiled. "Don't be afraid... ask."

A long pause unfolded as I tried to find the words to articulate my question, but it was like trying to pick up loose change laying on a slick floor. I was having a difficult time.

He patiently waited for me to speak, even as his hand moved over my top to explore the lower curve of my heavy, braless, married breast. His warm, strong hand cupped me, supported me, and even seemed to soothe me a bit. Finally I managed to stammer a few choppy words together.

"I suddenly ... felt ... was all ... wet, sticky," my voice trembling and almost hushed to a whisper as I added, "... in my panties."

His hand squeezed my breast as if he were delicately pumping me for information. I managed to utter a question.

"Michael. What was that?"

Although I did not know what the exact answer was to my question, I knew what I was about to hear had the potential to shock me, perhaps even rock me. I braced against him, snuggling my breast more firmly into his accepting hand. And sure enough, as his explanation began to flow from his mouth to my ears, my entire world got flipped upside down.

"Sweetheart, my activities that evening were a watershed moment. I had grown confident in my time bending skills and preparation and timing. I gapped into your time, bending between two moments as you sat there targeted by his eyes. And what followed, I promise you, was at first only to satisfy my scientific curiosities."

I felt my nipple hardening as his fingers rolled it through the fabric of my top.

"Upon my entry, I first took delight in your body. I admired your gorgeous breasts and the way your eyes brought life and energy to the room. Your motionless body gave me pause, as I felt a surge of arousal even greater than what our playful bantering had fueled."

His hand moved under my top and immediately swallowed as much of my 36D breast as it could.

"Then, as he stood next to our table, I administered a small dose of the time bending formula to our waiter."

I flinched.

"I ushered him through that same time gap with me."

I shivered.

"I took a moment to orient him to the other-worldly experience of seeing people essentially frozen in time. If all happened as planned, whatever experiences he shared with me in that gap of time would become nothing more than a "deja vu" moment or vivid fantasy-like memory for him upon his return to real time."

I felt vulnerable.

"He too, with my permission, took delight in his view of your body."

I trembled.

"I watched his arousal grow. I gave him room to roam. I had to see it. I watched as he looked me in the eyes and inched closer to you, silently seeking my approval. My silence condoned his actions."

I suddenly felt as if my own moment of deja vu had overcome me. It seemed that as Michael spoke, I could almost feel it happening ... AGAIN.

"He slid his hand down your blouse and touched you just like this." Michael's hand continued to fondle my breast with more lust.

"He unbuttoned your blouse, leaned over..."

Michael's words stopped where his mouth took over, lowering his tongue to where his hand had exposed my nipple to him. I felt his warm, soft tongue glide over my aroused nipple.

"...like this..."

A ripple of deja vu arousal spiked through my body.

"...and took your breast into his mouth."

I moaned as Michael then suckled on my breast as if I were nurturing his exploration.

"At that point, I had seen enough. I needed to know. In that time bending moment, as he fondled and sucked your breasts, were you aroused?"

I knew the answer to his question before he offered it to me, so I spoke. "I was, wasn't I?"

He cooed in my ear, "I told him to slide his hand under your skirt and down your panties to see if you were wet. He happily complied. Seconds later, his glistening finger told me all I needed to know."

I squirmed as Michael's hand migrated from my exposed breast to under my shorts, mixing the moment with an overpowering sense of deja vu as his words detailed the waiter's actions.

"He unzipped and flopped out quite an impressive cock, sweetheart. He then proceeded to coat himself with your juice. He sought permission, and I granted it, for him to scoop a few more coats of wetness from your pussy to his cock."

I felt Michael's finger probing my wet folds as my deja vu intensified.

"Lubed with your wetness, he stood directly beside you and stroked his cock. I knew what he wanted, but I could not dare shame you publicly. I saw his eyes on your exposed breasts. I knew he wanted to target them with his soon to erupt cumshot. But the leftover evidence of you splattered like that would be impossible to hide in real time."

I knew what was coming next. My own deja vu moved a step or two ahead of Michael's words. I sensed a hand sliding my skirt up and panties down. I felt a sudden splatter of gooey warmth flowing along my exposed pussy. Panties back up. Skirt back down. Done.

What Michael said in the moments that followed mattered less than the actions he took to reassure me that he desired me more than ever, mounting me and delivering my pussy with an orgasmic ride that set new records for me in personal pleasure.

As I laid beneath him, my cum-soaked, married pussy clenched on his drained, married cock, I breathed hot words in his ear. "That was a lot of cum."

Michael quivered. Whether I meant his or the waiter's mattered not. What did matter was what he said back to me.

"There were other times as well, weren't there?"

I responded without filtering my reaction. "Oh fuck."

He purred back in my ear, "Yes indeed."

What he proceeded to share with me was exponentially more erotic and filthy than this first experience he had just recounted back to me.

But, that is a story for another time.