The Circle of Time

It was not that Lemostra could stop time completely. Who could do that? An impossible feat, he thought, certainly beyond his powers. But he could send time into a loop for one or perhaps two people at a time - and, moreover, just leave it like that for them. It took a very conscious will to start time again for those people. He was an old man now and had been collecting for over fifty years.

Collecting? Why yes; perfect specimens of humanity either singly, in coitus or other sexual act. Philippe and Madeleine - so beautiful in body: so unpleasant in mind, had been copulating together for over fifty years. Lemostra stood in his marbled hall with a smile to his face as he admired the couple. Of course their hairstyles were not a la mode but their bodies betrayed no sign of their true age. They were not simply time frozen statues: no, far from it. They were like, to use a very modern analogy 'animated gifs,' only life sized in 3D and real. For fifty years Philippe's beautiful long penis had slid steadily in and out of Madeleine's moist vagina; for fifty years his testes had swung back and forth together within their scrotum; for fifty years Madeleine had knelt and received her lover's penis in the way of the animals; for fifty years her perfect breasts had swung to and fro and for many a fine morning in those fifty years Lemostra had sat near the couple and read his newspaper or enjoyed his morning croissant and freshly made pot of coffee whilst to his ears came the very faint splish, splash of their working genitalia.

Lemostra did not know what would happen when he died. He rather suspected Philippe and Madeleine would be released from their half century copulation; whether for Philippe to finally ejaculate or for them to separate in shock and disbelief at finding themselves on a plinth in a hall they would not remember at all. They had, after all, been 'acquired' in the privacy of a hotel bedroom - a hotel long demolished. Difficult to imagine their shock at seeing the other 'exhibits' so beautifully naked and many having been engaged in similar private activities - the more so when they all discovered just what the year was and how time had passed. It would make the newspapers. But whether he could imagine it all or not, he would certainly not see it. Lemostra sighed and walked slowly to his next exhibit. He was in a mood of introspection and melancholy.

He could not recall the man's name though he could the circumstances of the 'collection.' Lemostra remembered enjoying the girl but had not retained her. Her body had not been unattractive - far from it - but he had not seen it as the right one to display opposite the man. The man had been collected as he had walked towards the now nameless girl in the sunshine of a glorious afternoon at a private outdoor swimming pool. He had been swimming and Lemostra had admired the man's physique. The girl had been teasing him for some time and he had more than once betrayed his interest and then she had dared him to swim naked. It was after swimming, and after much further teasing, when he had risen from the pool and walked towards the girl, dripping water and superbly erect, that Lemostra had made his move. Twenty five years later, with his body still wet from the pool, the nameless man was caught as he paused feet from the girl his eyes staring and his penis trembling. The man was black as the proverbial; tall - perhaps six foot six - and with his taut buttocks and hard stomach he was the most perfect specimen of manhood in Lemostra's collection and perhaps he had ever seen. And the penis was nothing short of magnificent - it was difficult to describe it as otherwise, but the adjective 'large' or even 'very large' also needed to be applied. It curved perfectly upwards and stood high with its unusually bulbous helmet like head, peeled, shiny and firm. It had been erect, magnificently erect, for twenty five years and Lemostra hoped it would stay so for many more!

He had paired 'the Penis,' as he liked to refer to the man with a very different girl from the one the man had actually been walking towards all those many years ago. Lemostra had certainly enjoyed the girl by the pool in the Penis's stead whilst she and the man had just stood frozen in time. It was he, Lemostra, who had removed the girl's bikini, not 'the Penis,' and it had been his erection which had penetrated and eventually released its semen. 'The Penis' had never had the opportunity.

Moving the man had not been easy, but it never was. Moving a time frozen living statue would be difficult: transporting safely one that moved a little was even more difficult. He had servants and a large van and they were experienced at the task. He paid them well but they also knew he could deal summarily with any disloyalty. Matt Trent was not in the displayed collection, was not naked or engaged in sexual activity but nonetheless he had been time frozen even as he revealed his act of disloyalty. He was in a dark and dusty cupboard, still crying, "no!" every five seconds.

The young girl, and she was still young, set opposite 'the Penis' was a recent acquisition. For many years Lemostra had displayed a man seemingly walking towards 'the Penis.' It had amused him to think of the shock of the two men had they suddenly been able to see not the girls they had been approaching but each other, so male and so proudly erect, looking towards each other with such amorous intent! It had been a whimsy but recently he had changed the arrangement and was delighted with the effect.

The young girl, skin like alabaster and with the most wonderful Titian hair was caught bending to pick a flower. Her face such a picture of innocence, her bending so natural but the vulnerability of her sex and indeed her bottom so perfectly revealed in the bending. And there she was, her little budding breasts, the deep copper red of her tightly curled pubic hair so perfect, her apparent sweet innocence almost perfuming the air, bending to pick a flower unaware, for she looked the other way, that the largest erection she could ever possibly see was feet behind her. The man big in all senses of the word and she so petite.

He had acquired her on another perfectly sunny day. She was not actually as innocent, or as young, as perhaps she appeared and had been picnicking and playing games with her boyfriend in the hills. They had in fact already copulated once and were walking naked in post coital relaxation. Lemostra's binoculars had caught them and his mind had frozen them. The boyfriend he had not retained and, no doubt, as it was still only a few weeks later, was still hunting for his girl who had so suddenly seemed to disappear. It had, of course, made the newspapers.

Lemostra stood looking at the girl. Perhaps later he would come up behind her. The exhibits were not, after all, totally for show. Her vagina was as warm and moist as when first acquired: only now it was now somewhat fuller with time frozen semen than it had been when first it had joined the collection but not, of course, from 'the Penis.'

A perfectionist Lemostra only retained those in the most pleasing of attitudes. Of course he could start and stop their time when acquiring for a little bit until he was happy: but he could not go back to an earlier pose. Time, after all, only flowed forwards - when it flowed. It was difficult and exacting work. He was a small man, in many ways, slight of build and able to slip into rooms and hide with extraordinary ease. It was almost as if people did not notice him.

One of his favourite pieces was the 'Dream of Lesbos.' Most of his collection he had named! The perfection of this piece was subtle. The two girls he had admired for days, had certainly known they were intimate and had resolved to inspect their activities. It was the fourth attempt at stopping them that had really worked. The first three poses had been pleasing but nothing like the fourth. The girls simply delightful, one so Nordic, so blond: the other so Indian, so brown. Both with long hair but such a contrast between the blond and the luxurious blue black. Their breasts both ample but the Nordic girl's areolae so tiny and the Indian's so large. The Nordic girl denuded down below: the Indian quite the opposite.

And the pose? Ah, the pose! They had been soixante neuf together; were still soixante neuf ten years later, but both spectacularly caught rising from their partners thighs with such sweet wet faces, their eyes closed and mouths open, fresh from their friend's sex. Pictures of ecstasy and a shared ten year orgasm; their bodies still repetitively shuddering with pleasure. So beautiful to see; the sheen on their skin exquisite; their faces so perfect in their ecstasy. Mounted on a velvet covered plinth with the two so carefully placed to display the pose to the best advantage. Not only did the wet vaginas of both girls look most succulent - and they certainly did, and were easily 'available' to anyone wishing to try, indeed, so too were the girls' sweet little brown rosebuds, but also, to complete the set, their open mouths were just so ready for a male insertion. Lemostra could have called the piece '\the Six Orifices' and certainly he had enjoyed every single one as the girls shook and shuddered with their ever orgasms.

Phillipe and Madeleine, his first acquisitions, had been 'paused,' as he sometimes referred to his artistic talent, to prevent some not very nice things happening to other people. The pair were callous and had been about to spoil the lives of many. He had originally, merely meant to put them away for a time but catching them like that in the bedroom had been unexpected and so much more amusing. He had smuggled them from the hotel one by one in the dead of night and been so amused setting them up again together. It had been a complete accident, a bi-product of a necessary action but had lead to a lifelong hobby. Some men collected postage stamps, some antique curios, others vintage motor cars: Lemostra collected people.

One of his most amusing displays was the juxtaposition of two couples copulating. He had had them in his collection for years until one day an idea had come to him which had rather tickled his fancy. One pair, Tom and Nancy Smith were a charming couple he had met on holiday and had enjoyed some pleasant dinners with, and even a couple of day excursions, before he had decided to collect them. Nancy with her ready bubbling laugh and Tom with a surprisingly deep voice for a small man had been such pleasant company and could not possibly have suspected just what was in store for them.

They had not' of course, known he was there in the bedroom with them, had not appreciated just how quiet and unnoticeable Lemostra could be, or realised, as Tom mounted Nancy from the rear in the animal style, just how long their copulation would last. Now twenty-two years on they were still 'at it.' Poor Tom still with his hands outstretched to hold Nancy's hips and still pushing back and forth, their black bodies shining with the exertion and the heat of that long ago night.

Lemostra had long appreciated that his dual exhibits could be separated. For example that Tom could be pulled backwards out of Nancy and Lemostra's penis could replace his. It had so amused him to fuck Nancy with Tom right next to him; Tom with his arms outstretched as if holding the hips Lemostra was holding, his penis held at just the angle Lemostra's was but the difference being Lemostra was the one inside Nancy. Tom's hips steadily bucking in a fucking motion, his penis thrusting away but without the woman, and that little creamy bubble of semen appearing and disappearing at the end of his cock as it had, in fact, been doing for twenty two years. A 3D gif jerking back to the start of its cycle of time.

The other couple were Japanese, similarly in their twenties and again acquired in doggy-style copulation. It was the striking similarities not just of sexual position but body size that brought the idea to Lemostra. Not only could he move both Tom and the Japanese gentleman back out of their partners' orifices to allow him pleasant egress as he had done on many occasions but he could actually swop them around.

Now, day after day, Tom fucked the pretty Japanese girl and made her breasts swing whilst the Japanese gentleman worked away with his hands holding onto Nancy's hips. The two men fucking the wrong girl; two couples, who had never met, now fucking the wrong person day and night and likely to be year after year. It was a pleasing little scene.

Walking through his collection Lemostra paused to watch the 'Fountain of Life.' It had been a lucky acquisition. To be fair, many items in his collection were somewhat the result of luck. His talent was in realising 'that' was the moment; that it might be a perfect little scene to acquire. His collecting had required a great deal of travelling and a great deal of secrecy and concealment.

The circumstance of Lemostra's acquisition of the 'Fountain of Life' had followed a rather private little bit of bondage he had been privileged enough to observe. The reasons for him being there complicated but it was certainly not by invitation! The scene at acquisition had been of a fine young man spread eagled and roped whilst being teased by a leather clad mistress. How she had teased him with hands, lips and toes whilst he lay unable to move and yet with his penis so straining! How often that evening, as Lemostra had watched, had she removed her touch and left the young man stranded and frustrated with his erection so swollen. Finally she had been almost kind. Her hand had grasped his erection and held it absolutely vertical whilst she had worked it to climax. Perhaps her intention had been to let go as soon as the first spurt of whiteness appeared but whilst her hand instantly stopped moving - denying him that greater pleasure - it had not been removed. Perhaps it was the force of the ejaculation and the height to which it had attained which had stunned her into immobility but it was the whole ejaculation which Lemostra had so wonderfully caught.

And there was the young man, lying now on his own circle of stone; bonds removed for aesthetic reasons but still with limbs outstretched and straining but the girl no longer present - she had not really added to the scene at all - yet she had so importantly left him with a penis standing absolutely vertical - a quite improbable angle. And, of course, what absolutely made the composition was the white fountain which appeared to go on and on. Lemostra had caught the young man just as his first spurt erupted from his penis and rose up into the air, it shot two feet or more and, as it began to fall, the second strongest shot soared, copious and white, up into the air well over a yard high. The third, fourth, fifth, sixth and even a weak seventh were again projected up into the air. The semen rained down upon his genitalia as it shot yet more into the air.

It was an amazing sight because, having ended time at the seventh shot the whole scene looped back to the first shot once more. The man seeming to be continually ejaculating, the strength rising and falling in a steady wave but going on and on. Only the sudden disappearance of the splashing and pooling semen after the weakest spurt gave the game away that it was a repeated sequence - a loop of time. The 'join' was not seen without careful observation. It was quite a spectacle.

You could, if you so wished, reach your hand into the stream and feel the semen warm and sticky on your skin until it disappeared as the sequence recommenced. Easy enough to even taste the warm, thick cream before it melted away on your tongue. It would not stay. It had been a favourite with poor dear Fraydalyne, as had been, he recalled, 'the Penis.' It was not just gentlemen who could enjoy the exhibits in a more physical rather than aesthetic way.

Ah, Fraydalyne! How he missed her day after day. It hurt to be reminded. It is said time waits for no man - or woman. It had not for her. Time was not likely to wait for Lemostra either but he had made it wait for just a few.

Not all waited for years and years. There had been more than one - many, many more - where Lemostra had just paused their movement through time only for a short while, merely to enjoy a pleasant copulation or fellation before letting them carry on with their journey through time. He smiled, dipping his hand, almost ritually, into 'The Fountain. as he recalled one exquisite experience. It had been Fraydalyne's doing. She had pointed out the young girl to him. Her appearance so virginal, so sweet with her copious fair hair and long limbs in a short denim shirt, white tee shirt and sandals. A girl on holiday with her parents.

"You simply must!" He recalled Fraydalene's hissed words and had known it meant, 'we must.'

It had been a project between the two of them. Finding out about the girl. Finding where she was staying, obtaining access and then it had all gone so remarkably well. Her parents out, without her, for a meal that evening and Fraydalene and he had found the girl in just such a perfect state for their game - no, not mounted by some fine young lad she had met on holiday but alone, naked and having a very pleasant solitary time with her own fingers!

Fraydalene and he had watched the girl through the window, her body spread on the settee with a towel beneath her - so very obviously to prevent any wetting of the settee! Because 'wet' she had indeed been. Lemostra sighed. So wet, so delightfully wet. Perhaps she should have been collected. It would be pleasant to experience that wetness again, a soothing balm to his penis, and enjoy the girl once more, that girl he had so enjoyed together with Fraydalene.

They had watched the finger play and then he had caught her just at the moment of orgasm. Once captured they had gone into the villa and had simply stood, holding hands enjoying the sight. A young girl, head thrown back just shaking in orgasm; her fingers withdrawn a little way from her sex, her young breasts wobbling as she shook and her legs so splayed, so open and her sex itself so visible, so obviously wet and so visibly twitching. Not just the frilly lips moving with her body's movement but her vaginal entrance actually opening and closing. Even her tongue probing out of her mouth at the very moment of the orgasm's peak. And the shaking movement just going on and on as they watched.

Such a pleasing early growth of fair hair to her mons. So nice the slight differentiation in colour between the skin sometimes hidden by a bikini and that exposed to the sun.

The girl so open, so defenceless, so desirable. Fraydalene had run her tongue over her lips and then he had undressed her as she had him.

What they had done to that girl as she had twitched and shuddered in her orgasm - what indeed! Of course Fraydalene had gone first. Her sensitive fingers roaming before her tongue touched. And when she had begun to lap at the girl had he not penetrated Fraydalene? Of course.

A tear rolled down Lemostra's cheek. How he missed Fraydalene. Not that his semen had been hers that evening. Not at all! That had been for the young girl.

And had not Fraydalene gone wild when she had positioned herself to take advantage of the girl's probing tongue appearing every few seconds? Ah, the pain of the remembrance.

Lemostra shook his head, as his tears flowed, remembering how he had watched his penis first entering the young girl. Fraydalene had insisted on doing it. On pushing him in, on making the insertion. The girl had been just so warm and wet.

Past times. Past events. Never to be repeated. Not with that girl. What would she be now? Thirty five, perhaps. Maybe married with children. He did not know. Perhaps pleasant to find her again but without Fraydalene it would be a sadness. A painful memory. A shame he had not collected and had her still seated, or rather 'sprawled' and still with her little tongue poking out and her ever wet sex so beautiful to see and touch - Lemostra sighed once more - and to penetrate.