A Matter of Time Ch. 11

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On top of the Monroe County Courthouse is a fish on a weather vane. It was first created in 1820, but nobody is sure if it represents Christianity, the community’s need of fishing on local rivers and lakes when it was young … or if it is upside down.

Martin, the 55-year-old time traveler, thought maybe this would be a good mystery to find out about next. Just go back to 1820 and ask the creator his reasons for it. And see if it really was put on the latest Monroe County Courthouse upside down.

He looked up to the weather vane as the two couples walked toward the courthouse. They were walking up the hill on 6th Street when he noticed it again for the first time in 35 years. Going from 2023 to 1989 was interesting; going back another 179 would be an adventure. A time before the Civil War; when the area was just being set up.

He and his wife had begun influencing their own life. They’d prevented him from cheating on her; they’d prevented her from being raped. They’d showed their earlier selves how to appreciate communications and making love — even though they were still virgins.

Not for long, though. They’d decided to get married. It was going to be different than their first wedding … which was held at a chapel in nearby Paragon by some pastor who told them of the sins of the flesh in a sparsely populated ceremony. He seemed angry about sex… like he hadn’t enjoyed it or wanted others to ever enjoy it. The witnesses to their wedding in 1990 included three friends they barely knew, along with their neighbor, Amber.

Amber would be led into temptation, and suck the cock of the pastor a few hours later. She didn’t like him, but she liked pleasing men, and it seemed like he needed it.

He’d eyed her as he spoke angrily about how sex was only for making children, between one man and one woman. Amber, who was more of a witness than a friend, undid a button on her blouse and giggled as he stammered through the next two minutes of his sermon.

She didn’t like him, but she liked seducing him afterward. She shook his hand after the young couple had walked out of the church. Within seven minutes, the other guests had left, and Amber knocked back on the door of the small house of worship.

“How can I help you?” he said. But he knew her intentions and he faked anger and dismissiveness.

“How can I help you?” Amber said, unbuttoning another snap on her blouse and pushing him back into the church. He stepped back until his ass was pressed against a pew.

He was 57, and twice divorced. The Holy Bible had taught him his ex-wives were sinners and fortified his ill toward them.

“You are a harlot and a sinner,” he said.

“Let’s see about that,” Amber said. She leaned up and kissed his chin and neck, but not his lips.

“You reek of sulfur, whore of Babylon,” he said.

She ignored his pretense. She didn’t like him, but sometimes giving head was fun just because it was easy with the clergy. Amber gripped his belt and unstrapped it quickly. His cheap polyester trousers bought through an advertisement in a gun magazine didn’t hide his erection. Not that it was an impressive erection.

Amber pulled his pants down, and the minister’s tighty-whitey underwear showed the impression of his two-and-a-half-inch hard-on. Amber, who loved sucking cock, hadn’t dealt with one this small before. Or old. But she definitely wasn’t considering fucking this man. She wasn’t even really turned on.

“Stop,” he said, as his hands reached down and pawed her breast through her blouse.

“OK,” Amber said. She nuzzled the cotton of his underwear then pulled her neck away from his body.

She looked up and grabbed his hand on her blouse, opening up top to him, his calloused hands feeling her bust. He was a sinner, like all others. And the temptation was too much. For him, it didn’t take much.

“Please, please me, whore,” he said, feeling guilt. But he also felt justified. He worked hard for the Lord most days of the week, and his ex-wives had both left him. He was like Job. Or was it Lot? He wasn’t sure. He’d have to look that back up.

Amber giggled a bit. The guy was a whole class asshole, but he was ready for her quickly. “Pull down your underwear,” she commanded. The minister complied. She inhaled all of him, her nose tickled by his overgrowth of public hair, black and gray.

His small penis didn’t even require much of a gag reflex. Amber clawed the back of the ministers legs as she sucked on his cock and her tongue flickered along his small, tightened corms. The minister held one hand against the back of the far pew, and his other on the fabric of the college student’s lacy bra. In 32 seconds of touch, he was already beyond a point of no return.

“Oh, God. Oh, God,” he said, looking at the vixen sucking on his penis. He looked up to see the image of Jesus Christ. He was without sin; the minister was not. His erection began to spasm and his spunk gushed into Amber’s mouth. Of the cum she’d tasted, it ranked in the lower kolej escort 10 percent.

But the minister, just for a moment, smiled and laughed and grunted in pleasure.

She stood up, swallowed his seed, turned around and walked back out the door.

He wouldn’t know of her again for eight years, when he learned she collided with his son’s car on Interstate 40, killing his son and a doctor, along with herself.

It was God’s punishment. For her and for him. Evil whore of Babylon, he said in 1998.

Lucky for the minister, the 1990 wedding was now vanishing through timesuck. Eventually, that wouldn’t be good for humanity.


But now, in 1989, Marty and Victoria were going to make their once simple 1990 ceremony even more basic. It was going to be them, with their older selves, at their favorite place on campus.

And then enjoy a honeymoon in a king size room of the Indiana Memorial Union. Their older selves had already set it up.

Inside the Monroe County Courthouse, under the fish on the weather vane, Marty and Victoria wrote out information for their Indiana Marriage License. The new memories gave another new buzz to the older couple as they reveled in the moments of love, not fear.

Marty, a 20-year-old who’d had sex fewer times than he had thumbs, tried to feign confidence. He was in many ways, still a kid. But he knew a few things — and he knew he loved Victoria. And he knew they’d always be together. He’d put on his best Levi’s jeans, a clean Izod shirt and dabbled on Polo cologne.

Victoria, a 20-year-old virgin, wore a simply white sun dress that draped down to her knees. Her supple breasts were touching the fabric — on this day she wore no bra nor panties. She wanted to be free to the world on this day.

“Are you ready?” Marty asked Victoria as he gave her the paperwork and pen.

“Yes. I’m ready for us.”

“No matter what,” Vicki agreed.

The Monroe County Clerk’s Office was a place many IU students began their wedded lives, so nobody paid much attention to the two couples that resembled one another — and were genetic equals. And nobody noticed when a man, who had just posted a $5,000 bail on a $50,000 bond walked out of Monroe County Probation Office across the second floor of the structure and noticed the two couples.

But Marco noticed the two couples that had just put him in jail after he was shocked and dazed by the young woman who he wanted to fuck in the woods.

The young woman he knew wanted to fuck him.

And the old man — he was the one who had bragged about fucking his girlfriend. He remembered the man clearly as he chatted with the younger shit outside of Dazzler’s. He’d gone to see his bitch, Janet, when he overheard the shits talking shit about fucking Janet. That old man bragging he’d fucked her down at Lake Monroe.

Marco fumed quietly, his nostrils flaring. It had been almost three days of jail for him, and his body yearned for heroin. Or a steroid.

Or both.

But right now, he tried to contain his anger. The two couples standing just inside the Clerk’s Office door hadn’t noticed him. He leaned back against a wall and waited.

The older couple falsified the marriage document. Martin and Vicki, they cared more about the couple than anyone else possibly could. But instead of repeating their own names and signatures, they signed their names as “Harry Potter” and “Lara Croft.”

They also concentrated on changing their signatures so they didn’t match their own signatures from 35 years earlier.

The worker at the Monroe County Clerk’s Office stamped the document and told them it would be in the mail after the necessary blood tests were completed.

The newly engaged held hands as they walked out. Their fingers lingered in their hands. The couple, married 35 years, followed behind them. Their work here was almost done. They were going to use FluX the next afternoon to get back to the year 2023.

In total, they’d been in 1989 for almost a week. But they would return to 2023 just 30 minutes after they’d left. They just wanted to be in Bloomington in 1989 to bring in the new memories of their second first honeymoon. It was going to be so much nicer than their first.

They walked back down 6th Street and — within 10 minutes — they were back on campus. It was a quiet day at Indiana University, with students meandering to their next classes. The two couples walked to the Rose Well House, a small structure first built in the early 1900s. Legend has it any couple that kisses at midnight on Valentine’s Day will never break up — and it was then and there Victoria and Marty had their first kiss on their first date about 18 months earlier.

Marco watched from the edge of Dunn Woods as Martin and Victoria took the hands of their younger selves.

“We are always together,” Martin said. “Through good and bad, poverty and plenty … it’s us.”

“We are always together,” Vicki said. “Through pain and pleasure, kurtuluş escort struggles and smooth sailings, it’s us.”

The two couples entangled their hands together inside Rose Well House, the autumn winds fluttering along their cheeks as fallen leaves rustled nearby.

“This is our ceremony,” Victoria said, instinctively. Sure, there would be a piece of paper in the mail to confirm their vows, but this was most assuredly their vows.

“This is our life,” Marty said, looking at his young bride, his older self and future wife.

“We are together, forever,” Martin said, giving Victoria his wedding band, originally bought in 1990. She pressed it up her husband’s left finger. It was dinged up through time. It fit him — just a little loose.

“We are going to travel time, in this life and the next,” Vicki said, giving her antiquated wedding band to her young husband. He slid it onto his bride’s finger gently.

There was silence. This had all been improvised, but all seemed perfect.

They had no idea Marco stalked them like a tiger in tall grass.

“May I kiss the bride?” Marty asked.

“Yes,” both Victoria and Vicki said with a smile.

With that, Marty leaned down as Victoria leaned up as they kissed, simply. It was a marriage approved by the future, no minister nor justice of the peace needed. It was based on love, not lust. No state or church had any jurisdiction on their adoration.

“You are married,” Vicki said. “We are married.”

As the two couples walked from their secret ceremony toward the Indiana Memorial Union and the union’s hotel, Marco followed from a distance.

The two couples hugged at the entrance of the union, and Martin gave Marty a key to a king-size room on the eighth floor with a few of Dunn Woods and the Sample Gates.

“We’ll see you two for brunch tomorrow,” Vicki said, anticipating new memories being made of her first great sex with her husband … not the guilt-ridden, awkward moments in the Martinsville motel from 35 years earlier.

She hugged her younger self and kissed her simply on the cheek. All the guilt, all the religious angst of sex, had disappeared. She loved her spouse. Repairing life with Mother would wait … working would wait … studying would wait. This week was about them, exclusively.

The younger couple walked into an elevator as the older couple watched. From behind a large planter, Marco watched as the doors closed and the old folks walked away. He watched the numbers above the elevator go up until it stopped.


His nostrils flared.


Marty unlocked the large wooden door of their room with Victoria’s hand on his. He paused for a moment, and lifted her up. She was small and slender; standing just 5 feet 4 inches tall, with breasts that normally filled a 32C bra. This day, the day of her secret wedding, they were free in a light sun dress.

He picked Victoria up, her arm wrapping around his neck as he held her lower back and lifted the back of her knees onto his left forearm. He stepped over the threshold of the room as they kissed.

It had been a whirlwind of five days since their older selves had time-traveled back to 1989. But all seemed to work out well for their lives. They had love and time on their side.

The room at the Indiana Union Memorial was one of the suites, with a large bed covered in a quilted fabric. The two windows looked out upon the south and west sides of the campus as they slipped off their shoes. They looked out the two windows for a moment to see the Sample Gates out toward Kirkwood Avenue and a small creek that ran through the grounds through the other window.

Marty kissed Victoria’s shoulder and let his fingers flit down her arms until they reunited with her hands. She turned around and they kissed deeply, their tongues flickering — their eyes open in this moment.

Victoria back-peddled to the bed, sitting down on it — her legs uncoiled quickly. Marty leaned down and held his hands on her knees. He tilted down to his knees and kissed her again, his hands running from her knees, up her thighs and to her breasts. He’d touched them only a few times, but was fascinated with them. She braced her hands in back of her and pulled the sundress off her shoulders — her orbs spilling from the front of the fabric.

Marty kissed her neck and ran his hands softly over Victoria’s breasts as her breathing quickly enhanced in the moment. Her lover — her husband — was exploring her body with his tongues and fingers along her skin. He nuzzled between her breasts and up the rises of their form. He softly suckled in curiosity and heat, rubbing his thumb along one nipple while sucking on the other. He was in paradise.

Victoria’s neck craned back as she softly moaned and giggled. She was giving herself to love. She adjusted her hands and reached down, pulling Marty’s Izod collared shirt off him. She lingered her fingernails along his chest, flickering along his maltepe escort nipples and down his thin belly. A race of hair traveled down his tummy from his belly button into his jeans.

His hands gripped Victoria’s sundress and pulled it down her curved hips. She compressed her legs for just a second, and then arched her ass upward for just a moment before it slid off — her body naked before her husband. She spread her legs to him, kicking off her flats, as he touched her pale legs. Marty’s mouth kissed Victoria’s stomach and down the curves of her hips until his face touched the soft bristles of her pubic hair. One day, she would shave this area of her body, but she hadn’t been that brave yet. She had used shampoo and conditioner on it, but not a razor.

Marty’s tongue traveled through the delineation of her sex. She was damp with desire. He licked hesitantly, not entirely sure what he was doing. He flattened out his tongue and held her legs back as he lapped several times. From her moans, he wasn’t doing it wrong. He then slipped a finger inside her pussy, kissing her thigh as he watched it sink inside her.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him back to her belly and breasts. There would be decades for oral exploration. She wanted to make love. He kissed her neck and then her lips, wondering if she would reject his buss since his mouth had just been against her wetness. She didn’t.

Marty crawled onto the bed and Victoria pawed his neck and chest. Her fingers pulled at the front of his jeans, his hardness straining through the denim. She fumbled with his buttonfly. He giggled as he pulled off the first two, and she ripped down the next three. The elastic band of his tight white underwear hugged his hips, but his excited penis stretched the fabric upwards, Marty pulled his jeans off his thighs and lower legs, kicking them off to the floor.

He used his big toes to scrap off his socks as he kissed his virginal wife. Her hand researched his skin, and her lips felt the reaction of his body as she rubbed the upthrust under his cotton Haynes. With her thumbs working under the waistband of the underwear, she pulled them off and returned her hand to his eight inches of manhood. She looked at it.

His penis, hardened by blood inside, looked much like the penis she’d watched fuck the 55-year-old version of her while on Lake Monroe yesterday. But the skin was younger, somehow softer looking. And her husband’s naked body was tight and thin, with just small thatches of hair on his tummy, the middle of his chest, and dancing around his nipples.

Marty’s hand played with Victoria’s breasts and wandered down to her vagina. He held paradise in his fingertips and fumbled with her pussy. He wondered if he was massaging her clit (just barely) and if he was turning her on (a little bit, but not as much as the moment already had excited her).

Victoria pulled her foot onto the bed and looked at Marty.

“I want to feel you … inside me. Make love with me,” she said.

He maneuvered on top of Victoria, his chest squishing onto her breasts, as his cock gravitated toward her pussy. He was one step removed from a virgin, but was still hesitant to use his hand in aiming his sex. She was a virgin, and wasn’t entirely sure how she could help guide him in. They looked into one another’s eyes and giggled as Marty stopped, moved his hips, and the head of his penis found the lips of her pussy. She was wet, he was hard. Their bodies were both hot. She spread her legs far apart, and pulled on Marty’s belly until his cock entered her.

The burn as he went into her was like a wick sparking down toward an explosion of dynamite. As his dick filled her fully, she gasped in pain that settled into paradise. The pain evaporated in a few moments, and she moaned in delight. It was good. It was love.

“Oh, yes,” she said as her virgin status was eliminated on her body’s resume. She had a man in her — and not a rapist or a minister she didn’t want to touch — but her love. Her husband. Her emotions were overjoyed, her body on fire in passion, her thoughts on how amazing her life had become. And her first climax already on its way as Marty collided into her over and over again.

His cock had never felt like this … Victoria’s body was so tight, but so accepting. His hands tried to find a place to hold onto. For a few moments, he held onto her breasts, then her stomach, then her hips, then a blanket. He opened his hands and pushed himself up so he could look down at her. The light warmed her body as she looked up at him and giggled and moaned. Their bodies were together for the first time.

“Yes, oh God, yes,” she said, her breathing increasing in pace. She loved sex. It made sense. Her older persona had told her she would as soon as she got over the fear of it. And the fear was eliminated. The penis inside her massaged the walls of her pussy. Marty brought a finger down between their legs and explored for her clit. He was inexperienced, but she appreciated the effort and placed his thumb on her button.

“Rub,” she said.

He did, slowly. He returned his mouth to her breasts and lips as she kept her legs spread wide. He kept rubbing her clit with his cock pounding with more fury inside her. “Oh, God,” he announced in her ear. “Yes,” she responded.

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