The Lost Hours with Annabelle

Instead, I got into position between Annabelle's long legs to mount her in the missionary position. My brown pubic hair contrasted with Annabelle's blonde pubic hair as our genitals touched. My penis soon found Annabelle's pussy, and the teenager gasped as I pushed my erection up into her tight young virginal vagina.

After a few moments of getting adjusted to the fact we were now no longer virgins and the unfamiliar feelings for me of having my penis in a vagina, and for Annabelle the equally unfamiliar feeling of having a penis up her vagina, we soon got into the swing of love-making despite our young ages and total inexperience at intercourse.

I pushed my cock deep up into Annabelle's pussy and she would in turn push her pussy back into my groin, me feeling how hot her vagina was, Annabelle's teenage vagina plenty wet. I could not only feel the wetness of her feminine arousal, I could smell it too, the soft, musty smell of teenage pussy very evident, the scent driving me wild with desire.

Sometimes Annabelle and I went at it fast and hard, like a pair of rabbits engaged in coitus, other times slow and sensual. I could see by the look of pleasure on Annabelle's pretty face that she was enjoying herself, and I was having the most fun of my life.

Annabelle wrapped her long legs over the top of me, the 6 foot 9 teenager under me stroking my back with the cute teenage toes on her bare feet. To make it more intimate I leaned forward, my chest hair tickling Annabelle's breasts as we kissed deeply and I ground at her vagina, desire flowing though both of us.

Climax for both of us came at the same time, unusual for two virgins, and was both a good thing and a sad thing at the same time. Good, it was exciting for both of us and a wonderful feeling. Sad, it meant our lovemaking was over. My body went rigid and I felt the orgasm go through my body, my balls releasing a tidal wave of stick white semen that came out of my cock deep inside Annabelle, spraying past her cervix, up her birth canal and into her uterus, the sperm released swimming around and up her fallopian tubes in the vain search for an egg released from one of Annabelle's ovaries in her current monthly cycle.

Ejaculating inside her pushed Annabelle's own orgasm over the edge, and she cried out in delight, her long legs flying out, the toes on her bare feet clenched hard as her pretty face contorted from the pleasure. I felt Annabelle's sticky female orgasm soak my groin, the smell of pussy getting stronger and while I could not feel my young lovers' orgasm, I could imagine it. I thought about the pleasure Annabelle was feeling in her private female areas, the orgasm flowing from her clitoris and into her vagina, then up into her anus and rectum. Thoughts alone about Annabelle's orgasm made me feel even hotter.

I withdrew from Annabelle's hairy post orgasmic pussy, seeing my semen around her vaginal opening and feeling her pussy juice on my reducing penis. We lay together on the picnic blanket, kissing and caressing and touching each other's naked young bodies as we recovered our breaths.

"That was amazing, Annabelle," I said.

"It was Jim," she agreed. "And you know the really good thing? Our fun isn't over yet. There's some showers through there, we really need one. And the lucky thing for you is that I've always wanted to shower with a good looking guy."

I grinned. "You're in luck. For some reason, I've always wanted to have a shower with a great looking girl. How's that for coincidence?"

We both laughed and made our way to the showers, carrying the towel. Luck was running our way again, there was a fresh bar of soap nearby so we could shower properly. Annabelle turned on the shower, and we both stepped under. The girls' school that used these change rooms probably didn't count any 6 feet 9 students in their rowing teams so Annabelle had to duck a bit, but she was obviously used to this and did okay.

And showering with a girl in reality was even cooler than in my imagination. I watched as Annabelle washed her bare breasts, the cheeks of her bare bottom and best of all her crotch. Annabelle's triangle of pubic hair was filled with suds and bubbles, and I watched with interest as she gave her vulva and anal area a thorough wash with plenty of soap and warm water. I then watched as Annabelle rinsed off between her legs, the soapy water making the lengthy journey from Annabelle's pussy and bum down her long legs to her teenage feet on the shower floor and going down the drain.

Annabelle and I embraced our naked bodies together and kissed under the shower, before turning it off and drying and dressing. After two delays -- the first caused by Annabelle needing to visit the toilet to pee and the second time when she stuck her head out of the ladies loo to find there were people passing by and me emerging from the girls' toilets might look odd -- we stepped out and returned to the jetty and rowboat, holding hands on our way there.

The Melbourne skies were flawless sapphire blue when Annabelle and I had gone into the change room to get up to no good, but while there was still plenty of blue sky there were now an equal number of fluffy white clouds, causing intermittent shadows as they obscured the sunlight.

Getting back onto the boat, Annabelle and I sat next to each other, holding hands and looking like a wholesome young couple as we listened to Annabelle's transistor radio, eating our sandwiches, apples and oranges, drinking cold lemonade from the thermos and admiring the beautiful scenery.

There was bird-life aplenty, magpies, crows, seagulls and kookaburras up the trees emitting their respective songs, squawks and laughter and ducks, geese and black swans swimming on the Yarra, interested in our boat knowing that humans having picnics could mean food.

"Hey, look at those ibises," said Annabelle, indicating the bank where two Australian White Ibises could be seen pecking around with their long black bills that matched their long black legs.

"That's unusual," I said. "You normally don't see ibises in the city at all, they must be lost."

Sitting in a boat under a weeping willow, surrounded by birdlife, holding hands with Annabelle, listening to cool popular music tunes and rock and roll music on her transistor radio, our amazing morning together that would stay a secret between us and such nice weather it was hard to name a better day in my life today.

Although on the weather, it was changing. The clouds overhead were darker now, filling the sky, the sunlight completely gone. The wind was getting up, and the temperature starting to fall.

"Maybe we should start heading back to the city, Jim?" Annabelle suggested, looking at the sky and her watch, the time now gone 2 pm.

I smiled at her. "How about just five more minutes? I could stay here all day with you." I held her hand tighter, stroking my finger in her palm, and stroked her pretty blonde pony-tail with my other hand.

"I could stay here all day too," smiled Annabelle, lowering her head to rest it against my shoulder.

"Jim, Jim are you okay? Jim, wake up."

I felt somebody shaking me, it must have been Annabelle, I must have drifted off to sleep just for a moment and now it was time to return the boat to Princes Bridge and go home.

I opened my eyes, and in front of me stood my wife Sandra, a concerned expression on her pretty face. Feeling utterly confused, I could hear rain outside pouring down and opened my eyes. I wasn't in a boat on the Yarra River, I was in the lounge room of the retirement villa with my wife Sandra, an open photo album in front of me on the coffee table.

Looking at my arm, I half expected to see the young skin of my youth, and was somewhat disappointed to see my elderly man skin. I stood up out of my armchair and looked in a mirror, it was the 75-year-old me with glasses and grey thinning hair.

"What time is it, Sandra?" I asked. "What day is it?"

"Jim, its 6.30 in the morning, and it's Monday."

I felt panic. "Shit, no, we need to get Doris to the airport, to catch her flight to Brisbane, to see Eddie and Raelene, we can't be late."

"Jim relax, come here and sit down and calm down. First, Doris's flight is tomorrow, Tuesday morning, not Monday and even if it was today, you're in no fit state to be driving anywhere especially the airport in all this rain."

I sat down beside my wife. "Did I really sleep out here all night?"

"Yes Jim, and I had trouble waking you up it was like you weren't there. I'm really worried about you, Jim."

"I wasn't here Sandra," I said. "I was 18-years-old and back in 1962."

This of course only made my wife worry even more, no doubt the word 'dementia' probably entered Sandra's mind. "Maybe I just got confused," I added.

"Jim, there's something not right," Sandra said. "You weren't checking in on the train home, you had that funny turn at Southern Cross, you were going through old photos last night and now all this. Please tell me what's happening."

"You know that really strange thing I told you about that happened years ago?" I asked. "About how that family the Smiths came to stay from Adelaide for Easter in 1962, and I took their daughter Annabelle out for a picnic and we lost about five hours that we could never account for?"

"Yes I know about it, it's very strange and you haven't mentioned it in years. What's brought all this up all of a sudden?"

"I remember now," I said. "Things started going strange at the show in Geelong yesterday after I went in that hypnosis show, I kept seeing things that reminded me of it, and last night it all came to me in a dream. Except it wasn't a dream, I was there, Annabelle was there, it was all real, I swear."

"Perhaps you should tell me about it, Jim?" Sandra suggested. "We've been married since 1967, we can tell each other anything."

Drawing my breath, I relaxed and told Sandra everything. About how I felt funny after hypnosis, then seeing and hearing all those things in the Geelong fairground that took me back to the day I took Annabelle for a picnic on the Yarra River. How I felt uneasy and full of de ja vu, and then the vivid dream that couldn't have been a dream. When you woke up from dreams you knew you had been dreaming. Last night was unlike any dream I had ever had in my life, as a child, teenager, an adult or now as a senior citizen.

Obviously I edited the details of what Annabelle and I had gotten up to in the rowing change rooms to a PG 13 rated version, but I still asked Sandra, "You're not upset are you?"

Sandra laughed good-naturedly. "Of course not. Jim, what you said happened -- if it did happen -- was way back in 1962, when we were in high school and before we were together. Back then the Beatles were John, Paul, George and Pete and only known in Liverpool, decimal currency was still four years away, they had they Empire Games in Perth and John Glenn orbited the Earth. It's a long, long time ago, a very different time. If back in 1962 I had heard of a woman being upset about what her husband did in 1905 -- something that may or may not have happened anyway -- I would have thought it ridiculous."

"Thanks for being so understanding, but this is so strange," I said. "Could the hypnosis have affected me?"

Sandra shrugged her shoulders. "I wouldn't think so, but not impossible. I was hypnotized once, but that was over 30 years ago and it never really affected me. Maybe it affected you more and those things you saw at the show -- the black and white cat with the same name as your parents' cat, the music from the early 1960s, the classic cars, the teenagers buying milkshakes the same as you and Annabelle purchased, the band performing a late 1950s and early 1960s show with the lead singer being called Annabelle -- set off some kind of reaction in you about that day and led to that dream?"

"Perhaps we can check if anybody else has reacted oddly to hypnosis?" I suggested.

Sandra and I picked up our phones and did some research. There wasn't much, but we did find an article about a strange incident in Darwin in 2017. A young woman along with her friends had been part of a stage magician show, in which they were hypnotized into believing they were synchronized swimmers. A few days later the girl vanished, and then her body was tragically found floating in the sea not far from the Stokes Hill Wharf. There was some conjecture as to whether the hypnosis played a part in her death, but it was also revealed that she had been suffering depression for some months after her fiancé had broken up with her by text message on the morning of their wedding day, so suicide was a more likely explanation, the article listing the numbers and website of counselling and suicide support services at the end.

"Maybe talk to Doctor Anderson about this?" Sandra suggested. "You need to get a referral from him for your cardiologist anyway."

"I think I'll do that Sandra," I said. "I'll see if I can get an appointment with him this afternoon."

*

"You know my diagnosis Jim? You're a dirty old man having erotic dreams about attractive young 18-year-old girls."

Doctor Anderson laughed, and so did I. "I thought you might say something like that, Bill."

Bill Anderson had been our family doctor for donkey's years, and in fact he had delivered our youngest daughter Nicole when Sandra went into a speedy labor at 8 months, with no time to get to the hospital. His grey hair and beard showed that like me he was a septuagenarian, and while he could have retired with his son and two daughters now running the practice, he still worked part time to cover on busy days, joking it gave him a break from his wife.

"I'm also very jealous Jim," Bill said. "Why can't I have dreams about beautiful 6 foot 9 blonde girls? Last week I was babysitting my great-grandkids, and they were watching this bizarre kids show from England. It took me three goddamn days to get the songs out of my head, and my dreams were filled with brightly colored animals singing every night."

"I wouldn't want that," I said.

Bill took my blood pressure and listened to my chest with a stethoscope. "Bill, your heart and blood pressure are terrible for a man just short of 19-years-old," he jokingly reprimanded me, before typing up his referral renewal to my heart specialist.

"I tend to agree with Sandra," said Bill. "I don't know how much if anything the hypnosis had to do with this, but seeing all those things at the agricultural show that reminded you of Annabelle many years earlier might have triggered some kind of psychological reaction within you, and thinking about that missing time caused you to have the vivid dream to fill in the blanks."

"I've never had a dream so vivid," I said. "I could see things, smell things and hear things that I normally wouldn't in a dream. Once before I did dream about the Demons winning the premiership and it seemed pretty real. When I woke up I felt disappointed that the Demons hadn't won the flag, but I knew it was a dream. This is very different."

Like me, Bill was a huge fan of the Demons and had spent many long years waiting for that elusive first premiership since 1964. "We've all had dreams of a Demons premiership, Jim," he laughed. "But what happened to you last night, it was just a dream. A vivid dream, but a dream of your past trying to make sense of an incident that has puzzled you for close to 60 years."

"I've never been able to explain that lost time thing that afternoon," I said. "And until Sunday, I've never had those feelings since then."

"We've all had those things," said Bill. "Driving down the road and suddenly you're further along than you remember, de ja vu, nights where you fall asleep and think you've only been down five minutes and it's morning, other nights when you fall asleep and wake up and less than an hour has gone by. Yours just might be an extreme case of this, although why it affected your friend Annabelle too I couldn't say."

The doctor again showed his good sense of humor and laughed. "I don't know Jim, flying saucers were pretty big back in '62. Maybe you and Annabelle were abducted by a UFO from outer space and taken away by aliens for a few hours?"

We laughed at the mental images of this, wished each other good days and I left after playing the account. It was spring in Melbourne, but this Monday afternoon was a throwback to winter, wet, windy and cold. Rather than drive home though, I set off for the street where I had lived with my parents, brother and sister back in the early 1960s.

My parents' house had long since gone as had the other houses in the street, replaced by fancy low rise, high density apartments for yuppies. I pulled up opposite where our house had stood, thinking back to what the doctor had said and my strange night last night, which put a new perspective on things.

I have never thought Annabelle and I did anything physical those lost hours, and for the longest time believed I had been intimate with only one woman, my wife Sandra. So far as I knew, Sandra and I lost our virginity to each other one night in 1963 when I was 19 and she was 18. We hadn't been expecting to do it, but Sandra's fine figure was dressed in a fashionable mini-skirt and boots that I found hot, one thing led to another and before long we were in bed and I had gotten into Sandra's knickers.

And when Sandra's white cotton knickers came down that evening, hers was the first vagina and girl's anus I saw in real life, and Sandra's red pubic hair and fair skin especially on her breasts and bottom gave away that she was a natural redhead.

Sandra and I enjoyed sex a lot, so much in fact that we kept doing it at any chance. It caused us a bit of angst one day when Sandra came to me and said the dreaded words, "I'm late." We had visions of having to end our studies, get married and raise a baby, but luckily after coming to my house to discuss it when we had a chance to be alone, Sandra went to the toilet and found her period had arrived late that month, and was never so relieved to have to get her sanitary belt and a napkin out of her bag.

After that we were more careful, me visiting the barber's shop and not for a haircut or shave to purchase products to prevent any more pregnancy scares for Sandra. They certainly came in handy when Sandra was training to be a nurse. For some reason I found her purple student nurse's uniform absolutely irresistible, and many times Sandra was bent over a couch or bench, her purple dress hitched up, her knickers around her ankles and me screwing her hard from behind.

One night I decided to surprise Sandra, waiting outside her house for her to return from work, hidden in the bushes. Seeing my girlfriend's purple uniform coming round the corner, I leaped out and said in an exaggerated, outback Australian accent. "Jeez, aren't you one hot sheila. So how about it then, darling?"

To my horror it was not Sandra, but rather my sister Doris, dressed in her own purple student nurse uniform, come to return a textbook to Sandra and she of course was even more horrified. After I set a world record for apologizing, Doris and I agreed never to mention the incident again.

I could have spent all day reminiscing about Sandra and my sex life in the Swinging 60s -- the white dress she wore at our wedding certainly wasn't accurate -- but this strange recollection of Annabelle and what we may or may not have done had thrown me through a loop.

Maybe, just maybe it was all just a dream, and my wife and the doctor were right. As for the time loss thing, that would probably never be solved despite my curiosity about it. Sometimes I longed to meet Annabelle, to ask her about it, if she had any rational explanation for what happened to us. But this was unlikely. Sandra and I had been to Adelaide a number of times, had taken our kids on holidays there when we were younger, and I had been there for work as a civil engineer.