The Cock Clock Ch. 02

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.

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I mulled the incident over and over in my mind. Had I really gone back to 1957 and had sex with, who, a younger version of the old shopkeeper? The math worked out. If she was eighteen back then, adding the difference, she'd be - seventy-two! The exact amount I'd paid for the clock. I needed to see her again, to validate my memories, and to learn what in blazes was going on.

I skipped breakfast and went out to my car. On the way, I emptied the mailbox and pawed through the stack. A few bills, a catalog, and a glossy postcard from Mrs. Hendricks, president of the Parent-Teacher Organization. Homely woman! I threw the mail on the passenger seat and drove straight to the quaint row of shops. I parked and jogged to the garden-level store. Instead of an antique store with a misspelled sign, the shop was a toy store. Where did the old woman's store go in just one day? I turned and walked down the block when I saw an old brownstone, the only brick building on the block, with the oddly spelled ANTIQUIES sign. I walked up the steps of the two-story and entered. She was there all right, perhaps a bit trimmer, smiling in a beguiling manner, as if we'd just finished coitus. "I knew you'd be back. Where is the clock?"

"It's at home. Can you please tell me what's going on?"

Her smile evaporated. "But you were supposed to bring it back. I only loaned it to you."

"No you didn't! You sold it to me, for seventy-two cents. Your current age, by the way. I figured it out."

She came closer. I could smell coffee on her breath. "That clock is a valuable artifact that has been in my family since it was constructed. I loaned it to you, so you could fulfill our shared destiny. But now it belongs back in the cupboard."

Shared destiny? A tumble in the sack was more like it. "Just what does it do, exactly?"

She raised one eyebrow. "Did you not experience it for yourself? It focused your inherent sexual attention on me - and you had some yesterday, don't deny it - and pulled you back to my first sexual encounter. You had to go back, because it was you who took my virginity all those years ago. But it must be in my family's possession, so that its power cannot be abused."

I was amazed. "So it allows time travel?"

"Shhhh." She nodded her towards other customers wandering the two floors filled with antiques. The selection was much better today. Perhaps there was still a chance to get Maggie a gift. "Yes, but in a limited manner. The clock matches an aroused male with a specific female's pheromones. Then it catapults the male back in time, to just before the woman's first sexual experience."

I was disappointed that I couldn't go back and prevent Lee Harvey Oswald from killing Kennedy, or watch Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech. "I can't just pick a date and time?"

"Of course not. And the male must be very careful to perform the act only, because any other changes can ripple forward."

"Like your shop. It was a tiny place yesterday, and today it's huge."

"I wasn't aware of this. There, you see, you've witnessed a modification of the future yourself. Something about our encounter changed my family or me in unpredictable ways. I know how my family obtained the deed to this property, but I can't tell you why our encounter made a difference. Now, if you'll bring the clock back to me-"

I dug my hands into my jacket pocket and came up with the receipt. "See, here? This is a sales receipt, not a rental agreement. You sold the clock to me, fair and square, for a bargain price. And I'm keeping it." I stormed towards the door.

She pointed a bent accusing finger. "Then beware its use. Your actions will have consequences."

I snorted a reply and strolled down the block, still looking for a gift for my wife.

One of the venues I didn't remember from the previous day was a wine shop with outdoor seating for patrons who wanted to sample various vintages and wineries. A great marketing technique, I suppose, or a high-class hangout for winos. Sitting at one table next to the sidewalk was a heavyset redhead. Even from a distance, I recognized her as Angie, the mother of one of Felice's friends. I looked the other way, hoping to avoid recognition. I was about to pass her when I felt my coat get tugged. She'd caught me. "Charlie! Charlie Norris!"

I turned around to see her enhanced red hair, bloodshot eyes and buckteeth. "Hi, Angie. Nice day for shopping."

Her words were on the verge of becoming slurred. "And drinking. Have a seat. I hate to drink alone."

That hadn't been stopping her, with a dozen empty sample cups on her table. "How's Stephanie?" Her daughter, also a redhead.

"She's real good. A good daughter." Angie choked back a tear. "But I'm not a very good mother. I should be able to, with just one kid, right? That shouldn't be so hard." She emptied the cup in front of her with one gulp, and then raised her hand. "Can I get another sample? Something drier?"

A polite shop clerk came over. "You've really had many more samples that we-"

"Pour me another one, dammit!" she barked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Where was I?" Her face went from perplexed to sad in a split second. "Jason and I are probably going to get separated, maybe even divorced. That will mess up Stephanie's life for sure. And all because - because -" Angie gripped my arm hard. "Jason says I'm a lousy lay." I made no comment. Even if Angie was willing, sex with a drunk was stooping too low. I didn't need a release that bad, taking advantage of Angie's condition. "It's all my mother's fault, setting me up." The clerk refilled Angie's glass.

"Your mother fixed you up with Jason?"

"No, no, no." She leaned closer, still holding my arm. "My mother arranged for my first sex." Angie's blouse had a few too many buttons open. Her breasts hung, even with support from a bra that was exposed by her posture. Despite my willpower, her grip on me and the peek-a-boo was too much. I got an erection. "He was terrible. He slapped me and hit me with his belt. I was never so humiliated in my life!"

My immediate thought was, 'Too bad someone nice didn't introduce her to sex in a more caring and loving way-' and then I remembered the clock. I could be Angie's first sex partner. Treat her with respect and kindness, be gentle and- my cock was hard with the thought. All I'd have to do was go home, go to bed, and end up in the sack with Angie. "I am so sorry. Can I drive you home? I'd hate for you to get into an accident."

The wine clerk breathed a sigh of relief. I walked Angie to my car. She clung to me like Saran Wrap on a clean bowl. My erection didn't soften. And in the car, her hand snaked out and gripped my upper thigh. I considered walking her inside her house and fucking her right there. But that wouldn't repair her current situation. "Why don't you take a nap? It'll do you good."

I let myself out, drove home, threw the mail on the kitchen table and ran upstairs. I set the clock's alarm, took off my clothes and pulled up the blankets. I forced myself into a restful mood despite my throbbing cock. The next thing I knew, I was in a hotel or motel room, standard cheap furniture, a tube-style TV and paisley bed covers. On the nightstand, my friend the silver clock.

A voice called out from the bathroom, "I'm ready."

"Come on out," I said.

Angie, a younger version, stepped into the room. She wore a thin red negligee that showed her self-supporting breasts with hard nipples and red hair down below. She had freckles all over. She hesitated, three steps from the bathroom. "You're naked."

"Come here, I won't hurt you." I approached her, cock hard and ready, took her in my arms and held her body. Sex could wait, at least for a little while. I pulled back enough to kiss her lips gently, softly. She kissed back with a lot more pressure. I ran my hands all over her back, and then down to her ass. She threw her arms around my neck and tried to wrestle me horizontal. I waited until I had a chance to caress her outstanding breasts and tug a bit on her nipples.

"Oh God. I am so hot. I really want you to do it. Now, before I lose my nerve."

She threw herself onto the bed and pulled the negligee open. Her breasts remained two peaks despite her prone position. I climbed on top, my face at her tits. I kissed and licked her nipples. Okay, I sucked them a bit too. She wiggled all over, her hips jumping. I kissed lower, down past her navel.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you're lubricated and ready." My mouth finally arrived at her labia. I licked and kissed her down below. Her hands pressed my face against her pussy, moaning and breathing harder. When I poked my tongue between her labia, her pussy practically exploded with juice. God, she was hot. Her experience would be pleasant, not torture.

"You're making me crazy. Do it, please."

I slid up until my penis was between her thighs. "Are you really ready?"

"Oh yes, never readier."

I didn't have to do a thing. She'd already grabbed my cock and rubbed it up and down her wet slit. When the head pierced her labia, she lifted her hips to take more.

"Take it slow and easy," I said.

She grabbed my ass and pulled me closer. My cock went in faster that I wanted, but then again, she'd caused the penetration. "Mother said you'd fuck me. So do it!"

I pulled back and slid back in.

"Deeper. Faster."

I pickled up the pace and thrust my hips to drill deeper.

"That's it! Oh yes. More. Fuck me more!"

The mattress had a natural bounce, an undulation that fitted our coupling perfectly. With a squeaking accompaniment, I fucked her over and over, as she leaned and rubbed herself against me.

"Something, oh yes, something is, oh god, is this, oh yes, don't stop."

We were about to have simultaneous orgasms. I gave her a quick tickle with the head of my cock, and then a deep dive where I humped. Her arms and legs enveloped me, holding on for dear life as both of us spurted. She held on for a few minutes and then relaxed. I slid off, watching her spread thighs and her pussy regurgitate some of my semen.

"That was terrific, mister."

I stood up and took a step backwards, tripped over something on the floor and fell, my head hitting the doorframe to the bathroom.

- - -

I batted my eyelids. I was in my own bed, my cock still a bit bloated from my session with Angie. I wondered if sex with me had made her life better in the current time. I couldn't simply call and ask, 'So, Angie, how are you and your husband doing? Is your sex life better? Are you still a drunk?' After washing up and putting on a sweat suit, I went downstairs for a quick snack and then a trip to the grocery store. Maggie would be home later, and I wanted to cook a special meal for her homecoming. She'd have me in bed for dessert.

As I sucked down a bowl of cereal, I reviewed the mail. The bills were still waiting for my checkbook. The catalog still showed the same flannel shirts on the cover. But the postcard from the president of the PTO showed Angie's smiling face framed by perfectly coifed red hair. What happened to Mrs. Hendricks?

My hands shook as I drove to the market. The old woman had been right in her prediction. I'd changed history, for the better from Angie's perspective. And good old Mrs. Hendricks lost her position in the PTO. A fair exchange. I grabbed a package of T-bone steaks, some baking potatoes and a bundle of asparagus for dinner when I heard someone behind me call out. "Charlie! Charlie Norris!" There was no mistaking Angie's voice.

It was Angie all right, not much heavier than the day I'd fucked her, her breasts still perky, her face glowing. Her brilliant smile showed that she'd had her buck teeth straightened. She had two kids in tow, a boy and a girl in their early teens, both well behaved but not introduced. Evidently sex with Jason had been acceptable and productive. "I haven't seen you and Maggie at the PTO meetings lately. We could certainly use your support."

I couldn't look at her without picturing her naked and excited for sex. "With Felice graduating and all, we thought we'd wind down our involvement. How are things with Jason?" I was too curious not to ask.

"Marvelous! And so nice of you to remember his name." One of her eyebrows twitched, as if she was trying to remember something. My face from her first fucking? Back then, I looked that same, which might have triggered a conflicting memory.

"We'll try to make the next meeting, schedules allowing," I said.

"Good. And we'll see you at Mrs. Hendrick's memorial service, of course?"

A cold shiver ran down my spine. She was dead? I couldn't ask the details, because I surely would have already known them. My legs wobbled.

Angie threw her arm around my waist. "What's the matter?"

I straightened up. "Nothing, just a bit light-headed. I didn't eat much today." I was too busy making love to you to get proper nutrition. "Uh, yeah, we'll be there."

My shopping cart held me up as I checked out. The clerk swiped my card for payment. Was Mrs. Hendricks dead because of me? What other changes had I caused?

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### An Original H M Tale ###

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