me.” His forceful strokes accented his words.
But hurry he must. I bore down on his cock the next time he
plunged, squeezing my pussy with all my might. As I knew it would be, it was
too much for him to bear. Myself as well. I came as hard as he, our cries
escaping the confines of the tent, to the tender ears of the young squire
standing guard.
Expelling his lust all over my backside, the knight stilled
for only a moment or two before bracing his hands on my ass to lever himself to
his feet. Kneeling, I cleaned myself off with my gown.
“Leave,” the knight said, his tone arrogant once more. I
frowned as a few coins landed beside me in the dirt. I got to my feet unaided
and arranged my gown to cover me modestly.
“Of course.” Not bothering with any parting banter despite
the intimacy we had shared, I slipped out of his tent, leaving his coins where
they lay.
“Wait.” I heard him holler. I ignored him and made a beeline
for the woods, right past his anxious squire. “Stupid girl,” the knight yelled.
Sights and sounds, both tantalizing and wonderful, filled my eyes and ears. I
craved to linger, to stay just a while longer, but I had no time to waste. I’d
had my fun and now must make my escape.
I cleared the cover of the woods just in the nick of time.
Then I vanished.
At least that’s how it would appear to anyone here in this
century. There was a flash of blue smoke, gone in a smidgen of a second. Next a
swirling, tumbling sensation before I materialized in 2020, my time, landing in
the middle of my bedroom floor.
It took a moment for me to adjust. After several deep
breaths I walked over to the mirror and stood before it. I looked the same,
albeit disheveled. Long dark hair, terribly knotted, and sparkling green eyes.
A large, well-satisfied smile played on my lips. Sometimes I expected I’d
return a little taller, or shorter, though I still appeared the same, five foot
four. The dress I wore had been bang on. It paid to do research. It was all
about fitting in. Other languages were my specialty, so I learned enough to get
by before I left, although my accent might be a little strange. I’d heard of a
guy who nearly lost his life because he failed to appear convincing enough. I
dropped my gown to the floor and headed for the shower, grinning as I went.
Who’d have known that one of the greatest inventions known to mankind—or
perhaps womankind—could be such fun?
The Pocket Jumper allowed a person to slip back in time for
a total of fifteen minutes. Just long enough to observe or slightly experience
life without causing any damage to the time continuum.
And I was all about the experience.
The hot water caressed my aching, tender skin. I discovered
bruises dotting my hips, faintly, in the image of fingers splayed wide. This made
me smile. Battle wounds they were. Hard fought and won, they showed I’d been
the victor in the past and now reaped the rewards of the well-sated in the
future.
Once out of the shower I padded to my bed like a Cheshire
cat, climbed in and slipped beneath the covers. On my nightstand were a notepad
and a pen. I picked up both and crossed Medieval Knight off my list. Next on
the agenda was Gladiator.
List aside, I settled in for a nice, long sleep.
Tomorrow would be a busy day.
Chapter Two
“I don’t think I want to wear a toga,” I said to the lady in
the costume shop the next afternoon. “I do like the sandals though.” The
picture in the book I held showed a woman wearing a beautiful white gown, gold
belt, sandals and a circlet of golden flowers in her upswept hair.
“When’s the party?” the lady asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving it kind of late. If I had more time I could
order something in.”
“It was a last-minute idea,” I said, debating my choices. It
was the toga or a Roman slave tunic. Perhaps I could refashion the toga somehow
to look more authentic?
At home I laid out the book and got to work with an
old-fashioned needle and
But hurry he must. I bore down on his cock the next time he
plunged, squeezing my pussy with all my might. As I knew it would be, it was
too much for him to bear. Myself as well. I came as hard as he, our cries
escaping the confines of the tent, to the tender ears of the young squire
standing guard.
Expelling his lust all over my backside, the knight stilled
for only a moment or two before bracing his hands on my ass to lever himself to
his feet. Kneeling, I cleaned myself off with my gown.
“Leave,” the knight said, his tone arrogant once more. I
frowned as a few coins landed beside me in the dirt. I got to my feet unaided
and arranged my gown to cover me modestly.
“Of course.” Not bothering with any parting banter despite
the intimacy we had shared, I slipped out of his tent, leaving his coins where
they lay.
“Wait.” I heard him holler. I ignored him and made a beeline
for the woods, right past his anxious squire. “Stupid girl,” the knight yelled.
Sights and sounds, both tantalizing and wonderful, filled my eyes and ears. I
craved to linger, to stay just a while longer, but I had no time to waste. I’d
had my fun and now must make my escape.
I cleared the cover of the woods just in the nick of time.
Then I vanished.
At least that’s how it would appear to anyone here in this
century. There was a flash of blue smoke, gone in a smidgen of a second. Next a
swirling, tumbling sensation before I materialized in 2020, my time, landing in
the middle of my bedroom floor.
It took a moment for me to adjust. After several deep
breaths I walked over to the mirror and stood before it. I looked the same,
albeit disheveled. Long dark hair, terribly knotted, and sparkling green eyes.
A large, well-satisfied smile played on my lips. Sometimes I expected I’d
return a little taller, or shorter, though I still appeared the same, five foot
four. The dress I wore had been bang on. It paid to do research. It was all
about fitting in. Other languages were my specialty, so I learned enough to get
by before I left, although my accent might be a little strange. I’d heard of a
guy who nearly lost his life because he failed to appear convincing enough. I
dropped my gown to the floor and headed for the shower, grinning as I went.
Who’d have known that one of the greatest inventions known to mankind—or
perhaps womankind—could be such fun?
The Pocket Jumper allowed a person to slip back in time for
a total of fifteen minutes. Just long enough to observe or slightly experience
life without causing any damage to the time continuum.
And I was all about the experience.
The hot water caressed my aching, tender skin. I discovered
bruises dotting my hips, faintly, in the image of fingers splayed wide. This made
me smile. Battle wounds they were. Hard fought and won, they showed I’d been
the victor in the past and now reaped the rewards of the well-sated in the
future.
Once out of the shower I padded to my bed like a Cheshire
cat, climbed in and slipped beneath the covers. On my nightstand were a notepad
and a pen. I picked up both and crossed Medieval Knight off my list. Next on
the agenda was Gladiator.
List aside, I settled in for a nice, long sleep.
Tomorrow would be a busy day.
Chapter Two
“I don’t think I want to wear a toga,” I said to the lady in
the costume shop the next afternoon. “I do like the sandals though.” The
picture in the book I held showed a woman wearing a beautiful white gown, gold
belt, sandals and a circlet of golden flowers in her upswept hair.
“When’s the party?” the lady asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving it kind of late. If I had more time I could
order something in.”
“It was a last-minute idea,” I said, debating my choices. It
was the toga or a Roman slave tunic. Perhaps I could refashion the toga somehow
to look more authentic?
At home I laid out the book and got to work with an
old-fashioned needle and
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