Flights of Fancy

Mark knew that the time was drawing closer when he would have to bid his mother farewell. Yes, he could continue to visit her within the same timeline, but she would forget all that they had done; plus, it didn't seem fair to continue having sex with her once his father was on the scene.

There was a danger, he knew, if he left things too long. He had discussed it with Isaac, but without going into any details. If his father did not meet his mother because Mark was on the scene, then importantly, he would cease to exist because he would never be born. 'Now that was scary.' He thought.

There had been tears, of course, and not only his mother's, when he explained that his parents were moving and that unfortunately, at the moment he had no option other than to go with them. He promised to stay in contact with her. 'I'm sure we will meet again in the future,' he had said as they parted for the last time.

It was with a heavy heart that he returned to the present. At least he hadn't lost Abigail; she was still with him, only now much older and only as his mother. For a while, it felt like withdrawal symptoms, finding it difficult to summon the energy and only making infrequent visits to Isaac and Beatrice.

Having reached twenty-one, he was in the third year of his course and had come downstairs to take a break from studying and to grab a sandwich. Elizabeth was in the kitchen, talking with his mother, and though they no longer inhabited the same house, she could not refrain from her catty remarks. Mark did his best to ignore her, but she got under his skin, which was why as he headed back towards his room, he decided that teaching her a lesson may be appropriate.

He had met his mother as a teenager and ended up in bed with her; could, or would he have the same effect on Elizabeth? 'Let's face it,' he thought, 'I know all of her likes and dislikes, in a way I know her nearly as well as she knows herself.'

A warning bell went off in the back of his mind; to return to a time when she was eighteen meant that he would be infringing on his timeline. All right, he would only be eight, and so every chance they would not meet; nevertheless, he remembered the warning Isaac had given.

Two thousand and eight was not that long ago, and he could still remember the things he had done as an eight-year-old, especially in the gardens around the property. The day he selected was Elizabeth's birthday; the day she had turned eighteen. Mark was still able to remember her returning home worse for wear. He chose the evening because there was far less chance of meeting himself when he emerged from the room and headed towards town.

It was dangerous, he knew, and full of complications. The first of those was getting out of the house without being seen. He tried to pick a time when he thought Elizabeth would be in town, his younger self would be in bed, and his parents would be relaxing in the main part. The downstairs storage room had two windows, and that was his means of getting out unseen. That part went to plan, as he kept away from the main house until he reached the treeline and disappeared into it. The window had been left unlocked but closed so as not to arouse attention. With any luck, that would be his way back in, it was just a question of when, too early and his sister would be about, which might mean a wait until everyone was in bed.

Strolling along, he thought about the fact that though he now owned a time machine, he hadn't used it fully. Back in time to Isaac and Beatrice. Back to see his mother, and now, to antagonise his sister. Nothing exciting or extraordinary, he thought, rather more or less, a little mundane; but then he was young and there was plenty of time for the bigger adventures.

Touring several public houses in town, it took a while to locate her, Mark, content to get himself a drink as he propped up the bar and observed his sister from a distance. There were quite a few girls and two or three lads, one of whom he presumed was Elizabeth's boyfriend; she'd had several before meeting her husband at the age of twenty-two.

He hadn't planned anything as yet, not even to introduce himself under a fictitious name; tonight, was hopefully more about catching her eye and making her wonder who he was. When her current beau disappeared to the toilet, Mark took his chance, ordering her favourite drink and taking it over to the table and placing it in front of her. 'Happy birthday, Lizbet.'

Mark swivelled on his heel and without looking back, returned to the bar and his drink. He could feel their eyes on him and dismissed the urge to turn and look at them, instead, concentrating on staring at the bottles lining the shelves behind the bar. He stayed like that until he knew someone was standing next to him, turning slowly to find his sister. 'Hello, Elizabeth.'

She stared at him intently. 'Do I know you? You somehow look familiar.'

He gave her a cheeky smile, 'Maybe, maybe not.'

'How did you know it was my birthday?'

'Just a guess,' Mark said, indicating her group of friends. 'Eighteen today, how does it feel?'

He could see that she was puzzled and that his answers so far had her intrigued.

'But what about the drink? How did you know that was my favourite drink and why Lizbet?'

'Well, you look like a Lizbet, and I'm telepathic.' Mark was enjoying himself and could tell that his sister hated not knowing who he was.

'In that case, what am I thinking?'

Mark did not have a clue but knew his sister well enough. 'You are thinking, who is this good-looking young man who seems to know you when you haven't got a clue who he is.'

Her face broke into a smile. 'Close enough. What's your name?'

'I'm Andrew.' Yes, it was dangerous, it was his middle name, but he knew there was no way she would associate him with her younger brother. He held out his hand and shook hers, his sister's face one of suspicion. 'That's my brother's name,' she told him.

'Hmmm, maybe more than a coincidence,' he replied.

'I'd better let you get back, is that the boyfriend giving me the evil eye?' Elizabeth turned and looked. 'Yeah, that's Simon,' she said with a laugh.

'Oh, that's ok then,' Mark replied. He'll be gone in a few weeks, definitely not the right one.'

Elizabeth was gobsmacked. She had been thinking of breaking up with Simon; how did this stranger know? It was as though this person, Andrew, could read her mind. As he finished his drink, he tapped his temple and said, 'Telepathic. Perhaps I'll see you around.'

He left her, staring at his back as he retraced his steps, heading for home and his own time.

In the present, Mark gave it a couple of days; in Elizabeth's past; it was nearly two weeks before he put in another appearance.

He had caught up to her in the same public house, noting her presence, but then standing at the bar, and ignoring everyone as though he had no idea she was there. Again, she was with friends, but this time Mark did not notice Simon among the sea of faces. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone, he stayed in the same position until he was certain that his sister was standing by his side.

'Hello: Lizbet,' he said, and only then did he turn to face her. It seemed to put her off balance, adding to the mystery he already exuded.

'What brought you here?' She asked.

'I've had an exam at college today, so I thought I'd just grab a drink and then maybe get something to eat before heading home. Fancy joining me?'

They settled on an Indian, Mark ordering a lamb Jalfrezi. 'The lady will have Chicken Tikka, onion bhaji, and a Peshwari naan.'

'How did you know?' She asked, looking puzzled.

Of course, he knew, it was what his sister always ordered; she never tried anything else.

As they waited for their food, she just had to ask, 'What else do you know about me?'

Mark paused for a moment. 'Do you mind?' He asked as he reached across the table and placed a couple of fingers on her temple, looking at her intently for a moment.

'Let's see, Elizabeth Duncan, age eighteen, born twenty-second of May nineteen-ninety. Lives up on the hill in......' at this point he pulled a face, 'some kind of funny upside-down house. St Mary's high school and going to college later this year to hopefully study languages. Oh, and before I forget, thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-five.'

He was sure at that very moment, that if he blew on her, she would have fallen over, whatever he said or did now, she was hooked.

Elizabeth was shocked beyond the point where any of this made sense. She was half believing that he could read her mind. She was confident she had never met him; but how did he know so much about her, even down to her measurements, which she had never told anyone?

They chatted as they ate, Mark telling her lie after lie but continually dropping small pieces of information about things that Elizabeth may have thought were secrets.

'What are you doing next week?' He asked.

'Nothing, why?

'Well, there's a concert in the city. I thought you might like to go and see it.' He knew she had originally gone with her friends and that it was one of her favourite groups. He told her who it was and offered the invite again. It was changing the past, he thought, but not in a big way.

Within a week, they had kissed, a strange feeling, the same as he had experienced with his mother the first few times, only more intense. He never knew his mum as a young woman, only ever as his mother, whereas he could remember his sister being eighteen, even though he had only been eight at the time.

It was only time before sex reared its head, but unfortunately, there was a giant hurdle in the way. Mark couldn't exactly invite Lizbet back to his home, especially as it was the same as hers, but in the future. Likewise, with her parents around, Elizabeth wasn't confident about inviting him back to her house.

Back in the present, he had been chatting with his mother when she mentioned the trips to the seaside they used to have as a family. Mark's memories of them were vague, one visit merging into another.

'I remember the visits, but I don't remember Elizabeth being there once I was eight or nine.'

'No, dear, once she turned eighteen, she considered herself too old to be building sandcastles.'

Mark had an idea and with his mother occupied he got out some of the photo albums and looked through them. Below each picture, his mum would add a note of where it was taken, the people in the photo and the date. All he had to do was find some for that particular year to guarantee that he and his parents would be away all day.

On a trip to the past, he had made arrangements to meet Lizbet on that particular morning. She would not know yet, but with any luck, he would have plenty of time to bed her while their parents were away. Would it feel strange, he wondered, entering his own home with his sister, 'I must remember not to know where I am going,' he thought as he set off to meet her.

It was another one of those instances that Mark had never appreciated. When he'd ended up having sex with his mother, he had never realised how attractive she was and how good her body was until the point of their encounter. Elizabeth naked was just like a variation of his mum; she was gorgeous, her pert tits digging into his bare chest as they kissed.

With her parents out of the way, she had smuggled him in, the pair of them now ensconced in her bedroom in their section of the house. After teasing and tantalising her for so long, Elizabeth was desperate to get Andrew naked and into her bed; would she have been as keen if she had realised that he was her brother, that, was anyone's guess.

With his head nestled between her thighs, his tongue poked out, flicking at the lips of her pussy as she tried to grind it against his mouth. His hands cupped her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples, twisting, and pinching as she howled with delight. 'Oh fuck,' she cried when his tongue finally penetrated her passage, swirling around inside her moist hot centre as he licked and sucked her extremely sensitive flesh.

Elizabeth knew little more about Andrew now than she did at the beginning. He was an enigma, a man of mystery; while to him, it seemed her life was an open book, continually astounded as to how it was that he knew so much about her. What she did know, was that she had become desperate for his cock, their meeting today a godsend as her parents were away, and yet she had an inkling that Andrew somehow knew they would be alone.

Pulling himself up the bed, Mark shuffled between his sister's thighs, teasing her by rubbing his throbbing shaft against her cunt and clit, building her to the point where she begged him to fuck her. After years of being the butt of her jokes, it felt satisfying to hear Elizabeth pleading with him to shag her.

She had thought it would never happen, the air whistling from her lungs when he had suddenly rammed his cock into her, her fanny expanding rapidly as his pulsating length of meat, filled her hot wet quim. She screeched, probably loud enough to have been heard in the other parts of the house if their parents had been at home. 'Thank fuck they were away,' she thought.

Her arousal was building; her lust for his body had her hands gripping his buttocks, her legs open as wide as they would go as she pulled him in with each thrust, loudly moaning each time his cock slammed deep into her cunt. Arching her back slightly, she thrust her tits upwards, offering them to be abused; a mouth now latching onto each nipple in turn as he suckled on her teats.

He was young, maybe a year or two older than she was. But his lovemaking was like nothing she had experienced before, as though he'd had years of practice and knew exactly what to do and where to touch to elicit the greatest of sensations.

And when she thought it couldn't get any better, he increased his momentum, fucking her rapidly, his hips piston-like as he ploughed her furrow, his cock hammering her cunt as she reached her threshold and plummeted, her orgasm twisting her body as she panted and screamed, his pounding incessant and never-ending as her first climax was superseded by a second and then much to her disbelief and even though she was nearly delirious by that point, a third as at last she felt his shaft judder inside her and the torrent of cum that filled her pussy.

She had died, and gone to heaven; if not, surely, she would never walk again. Her body and mind were exhausted, and yet already, his hands were exploring once more, his mouth raining kisses over her breasts and teats as that sense of new arousal ignited in her belly.

This time he took her from behind, Elizabeth up on all fours, her tits swinging as his groin slammed against her buttocks; his hands reaching under her as he fondled her breast and rubbed teasingly at her clitoris. Her legs felt like jelly, her outstretched arm just managing to support her as his momentum increased. She closed her eyes, her mouth hanging open as she struggled to draw in enough oxygen between her bouts of moaning, and crying her appreciation of what he was doing to her.

When her fourth orgasm took her by the throat, shaking her like a rag doll, she collapsed, his shaft still penetrating her cunt until she felt it seed her a second time, and then darkness plucked her away.

'You fucking bastard.' Elizabeth purred, 'Oh my god, what have you done to me? I fucking love you!'

When she had surfaced, he was cradling her in his arms, warm and protective, and her words had just come out unbidden. At that moment, it was what she felt, loving this young man who had made her soar to unbelievable heights.

Before any more could be said, the sound of a car pulling up outside the house disturbed them; Elizabeth and Mark, looked at each other before she leapt from the bed and dashed to the window. 'Shit, mum and dad are back.'

He was already on his feet and getting dressed, Elizabeth following suit as she hurriedly pulled on her clothes. There was a nagging memory in Mark's head, of an occasion when they had gone to the coast and he hadn't felt well; the family returning early, trust him to have picked one of the few occasions that happened.

'I'll meet you in town,' he'd told Elizabeth, giving her a quick kiss as he fled from her room and nearly jumped from the top of the stairs to the bottom. 'The storage room,' he was thinking, if he could get in there, he could leave by one of the windows again, and then when the coast was clear, make his escape across the gardens.

As the family entered, he gave them a moment and then sprinted across the lawn, looking back as he approached the treeline and sighing with relief that he had made it. 'That was a close thing,' he was thinking. 'Next time, check the bloody dates before properly,' shocked at how close he had come to bumping into himself.

His other thought was why he had told his sister he would meet her in town. All he'd had to do was make it to the long gallery, and then into the secret room, able to return to his own time with ease. Now, he was going to have to sneak back in once he escorted Elizabeth home.

Up in the lounge, Abigail glanced out of the window. A young man hesitated at the end of the garden, and she was convinced he had come from the house. When he looked back, her heart skipped a beat, her hand going to her throat. It was Mark, her Mark, but that was impossible. This was a young man about her daughter's age; her first love would now be in his forties.

Elizabeth, when questioned, had, of course, denied that anyone had been in the house with her, but she looked hot and flustered, and her mother concluded that she was being lied to.

He and his sister had spent the afternoon together, laughing about their close encounter before he had walked her home, and then once she had gone indoors, he had returned and awaited an opportune moment to sneak back in and access the secret panel before returning to the present.

He had enjoyed having sex with his sister, but compared to his mother, it was a far riskier enterprise. What would happen if he were caught sneaking in or out of the house, there was no way he could tell them his true identity.

Isaac had explained to him with each visit, the consequences of time travel, but Mark was convinced that the excursions with his mother and sister would amount to little in the future. They had both met him in their teenage years; there was no way that they would associate someone from their pasts with their son and brother in the present.

The ripples he had sent out in the past, kept expanding, and soon they became waves, ready to crash into the present. Before that first wave properly rushed ashore, there was another event to distract him.

There were a few weeks before he started his next year of law at college, and he had been taken on by a local firm on a training contract. With his father at work, his mother out and about, and the glorious weather outdoors, Mark had taken the opportunity to don shorts, apply sunscreen and do nothing but stretch out on the lounger, which he had placed on the lawn.

The warmth had caused him to doze, that state of being half awake and half asleep. He had no idea what made him open his eyes, shading them from the sun nearly directly overhead as he gazed blearily at a figure in a long white dress coming towards him from the house. His eyes closed again for a second, convinced he was in the middle of a dream; but when he opened them again, the figure was still advancing.

Sitting upright, he wondered who it was, that was a hell of a dress to be wearing in this kind of heat, he was thinking.

As the woman drew closer still, Mark sprang to his feet, suddenly recognising who it was. 'Beatrice? Is that you? What are you doing here, has something happened?'

She ran the final few yards, throwing her arms around his neck, and, to his surprise, kissing him.