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Victoria was a virgin who feared touch, much less sex.
Vicki was a vamp who needed touch, and often sex.
The two walked in the shadow of College Mall and the new Lazarus store on the west side of Bloomington.
By 2023, this was all gone, the older Martha realized. It began with the fires of 2018 that swept through much of the area, and the F-5 tornado 10 months later — in the spring of 2019 — that vaporized much of this area. In her time, College Mall was now a large park with a small memorial, along with small plots of farmland that students rented out to grow fruits and vegetables.
But in 1989, it was still College Mall. Vicki took her younger virgin version into the facility and meandered with her. They went to the food court area and chatted. The virgin looked at the vamp and smiled.
“So, I marry Marty and live happily ever after?” Victoria asked. “And then he figures out how to go back in time?”
“Well, you’re two-for-three. Happily ever after takes about two decades to figure out. But, if Martin and Marty are staying out of trouble like they’re supposed to today, things should be easier.”
Victoria wasn’t sure what to ask, or how.
“Listen,” Vicki said, “Marty’s human. You’re human. As a couple, we love each other forever. But there are moments in time when we both screw up. Him first, you later. And it damages life. We’re here to help avoid those moments.”
The virgin listened, and wasn’t sure it was a great idea.
“Isn’t it a bad idea to mess with time?” she said. “I mean, we’re together and obviously smart and … changing the world. Why risk changing things?”
The vamp took in the conversation. She understood the concerns. There were months of discussion on the impacts of time travel and what they could, and couldn’t, do. Their mission was top secret and they counted on their younger selves to keep quiet. They’d already mentioned the rules. They could talk quietly about it, even in public, if they wanted to, but had to not say anything to anyone else.
“We had to pull a lot of strings to get this as our first mission. And even the president doesn’t know the full extent of our experiment. It really is about us meeting us and only generating a few changes to see how it impacts us. This isn’t about changing the world; it’s about seeing how we can make changes.’
“But doesn’t a small change … can’t that have a big impact?” her younger self asked.
“In theory. That’s why we are the Guinea pigs. Martin understands Marty more than anyone. And I understand us.”
But the virgin was still thrown back.
“What happens that damages us so much?”
The memory was now a shadow. It was the time that had passed and — was it the fact that it hadn’t happened? It seemed like a dream more than a memory now. Had Martin pulled Marty from making the first mistake? Fucking the stripper.
It seems he had. An hour ago, it was a vivid memory … how he had to admit to it when Janet showed up at their apartment talking about pregnancy. How they kicked her out and how, three days later, her obituary was in the newspaper after she intentionally inhaled too much alcohol and barbituates.
A decade later, after repairs from those disastrous moments were nearly complete, they’d learn about the small STD that Janet gave Marty which, in turn, he gave Victoria on their wedding night.
STDs, the currency of sex.
But was it gone? Was her body strong? Vicki couldn’t tell. She knew by avoiding the woods on campus today, she would avoid the man who raped her as she as Victoria Church.
She no longer had memories the cancer treatments a decade later. They had faded like the memory of Marty’s admission. But the days of rape recovery — at least the physical aspects of it — played in high definition in her memory. They would change that tonight.
Vicki exhaled. She was confident in the plan. It would happen when she was supposed to be walking to her evening biology class that started at 6 p.m. Time travel had a positive aspect. Good people could travel back in time and stop evil. First this rape and Marty’s mistakes. Maybe next, Hitler.
She didn’t know how to express her happiness, but she was thrilled. Her husband was a genius and her younger self was going to be safe. She wanted to make love to her husband in celebration. She wanted to enjoy an orgasm on her own. Vicki, the vamp, was horny.
What her poor virgin version was missing.
“Victoria, let’s go for a walk. I need some air,” Vicki said, smiling in her thoughts. She had a plan.
The two exited the Lazarus doors and began walking south on the clear September day. It was a high of 76 today, with a cool breeze pushing from the north. Their hair whipped over their faces as they chatted and strolled.
Vicki knew what would pique her younger self’s interest. Something she wouldn’t openingly talk about for years, but thoughts that were often with her.
“Where are we going,” the younger one asked.
“Down to Graduate canlı bahis Degrees,” the 55-year-old said nonchalently. Graduate Degrees was a higher-minded version of an adult book store, with toys and videocassettes of pornography.
“Why would I want to go there?” Victoria said.
“Well, I can’t vouch for you, but I’m horny today.”
Her younger self hated being embarrassed, especially by someone she knew well.
The vamp stopped and held the hands of the virgin.
“Listen, Victoria. I’m you and you’re me. I was there when you first hit a three-pointer in eighth grade. I was there with you in every moment in time. And it’s OK to be honest with me, because you’re just being honest with yourself. And that’s important.”
“OK,” Victoria said, not entirely sure she trusted the situation. It was still too bizarre. But she had been more horny than normal the last few hours and hadn’t been sure why.
Vicki closed her eyes, taking in the new memories. She hugged her younger self closely.
“You’re horny. It’s OK. You’ll feel this a lot in life. Remember watching your sister make love to her husband?”
“Yes.” How could she forget? It was sick and beautiful and romantic and perverted. To see her pure sister positioned by a man, even her husband, was a violation in Victoria’s mind. To see her scream a few times and then smile in ecstasy wasn’t logical. And then, watching a few minutes later from the cracks of the closet, to see her shake and tremble and scream as her husband pounded into her like a jackhammer on fresh pavement, was exciting and terrible and …
But her sister was loving it. Was asking for it. “Harder! Hard! Fuck me harder!” she screamed. Victoria’s memory was burned with that image. Wanting sex that much must be a sin.
And they walked up to the store where sin was in. Graduate Degrees: An Adult Book Store for the Higher Mind.
“I don’t think…” she said.
“Of course you can,” her older self explained. “It’s natural. This is just the basics. This is fucking, which is fine once in awhile. But what you and Marty have, we have making love. It’s all good, but making love is more real than what you’ll see in here. But you shouldn’t fear it.”
The women walked in. The younger one looked around in wonderment and embarrassment. The older looked around in curiosity and appreciation. Aisles of videotapes and toys, with walls plastered with pictures of the newest stars of pornography. Peter North was featured as an “Up and Cummer.” “Cumming Soon, ‘Porn of the Fourth of July'” another poster noted. Back when adult movies had a semblance of plot, which nonetheless was usually ripped off from an actual mainstream film.
Vicki snickered. “Porn of the Fourth of July” was just too funny a title, even if the actual Oliver Stone movie was a sobfest of war and the hell it brings. She thought about the Peter North of her era, known for his latest string of movies, “Senior Citizens Vs. College Seniors.” He was 65 and still thrilling audiences — and surprising young women — with his pop shots.
Victoria couldn’t imagine why people would want to use such things on a body. There was something called a “pocket pussy” for men and all sorts of toys for women. Penis-shaped rubber and plastic devices that somehow were supposed to provide pleasure. Some had two tips, which frankly horrified her with the plausible implications.
She looked, shyly, as three men watched the younger and older women. They could be aunt and niece; mother and daughter; or a May-December lesbian relationship. All of which were pretty hot and kinky in their minds.
Vicki, the vamp, smiled at the attention. She loved showing herself off, even if most younger men paid less attention to her nowadays. She was horny and hadn’t packed her favorite toy — a vibrator perfected in 2020. The Lover 2K20 swelled in motion with a woman’s body and included a true-skin feel and a blast of environmentally safe, vagina safe imitation cum that injected as the toy sensed its user was achieving an orgasm.
For today, she’d have to accept a battery operated boyfriend for herself and her younger self. Sure, she could wait for her husband, but he never minded when she enjoyed her body. He loved her stories of masturbating in near public or complete privacy.
Vicki grabbed a small, thin vibrator with a clit stimulator. It was purple and looked like it would do the trick. She read the back and grabbed a batteries to go with it. She also grabbed a video tape copy of “Hot In The City” with Christy Canyon and Peter North. So much different than watching adult entertainment in 2023, but she’d gone back in time, so she was dealing with ancient history.
“I’m ready. Are you?” Victoria asked her younger self. She’d been in the store for seven minutes and was a mix of terrified and horny. She wasn’t sure what was going on.
“Um, yeah,” the virgin confirmed.
“The boys are going to be gone for a few more hours,” her older self said after she paid for the products bahis siteleri and they were placed in a black plastic bag — another item she never saw in 2023 since they’d been banned by United Nations edict in 2019.
They walked out of Graduate Degrees and headed west passed Bryant Park and north to Victoria’s apartment. The younger version hadn’t done this much walking in a long time — a three hour hike in the city, total. Her legs ached a bit as she found her futon and looked at her book bag, wondering when she’d do her biology homework. Meeting her 55-year-old self had put a delay in her studies. She doubted her professor would understand.
Her older self felt good. She ran seven miles a day for the last 12 years and the hike was a good replacement. She looked at her younger self and felt a bit guilty. But she was also disappointed nobody ever approached her with the concept of the sensual life. Marty was always too shy and her friends were always too scared of the consequences. And her family, well, sex wasn’t discussed. It was sin. You might as well start a talk that said “I really enjoy lying and cheating on my homework. It makes me feel good.”
“Feeling alright?” Vicki asked as she joined her on the couch.
“Yes. Just. Well, just a bit overwhelmed by everything,” she said. “Why do you … when do I become so interested in … in things sex.”
“Well, in about 20 minutes if things go right,” Vicki said. “But, in my life, I didn’t discover it for about another dozen years. I was scared and ashamed for a long time. But one of the reasons we’re here is to avoid a few tragedies that both struck you and Marty today — and they really affected your thoughts on sex.”
“What were they?”
“There is a man who attacks you in about three hours while you’re walking to biology class. He rapes you. It’s awful. But, what’s almost worse, is Mom and Dad blame me — blame us. They ask us what we’re wearing. And then they learn we are living with Marty and pretty much disown you.”
It was a shocking revelation. Her first time wasn’t with her husband, but some random man who just growled “Say ‘fuck me Marco,’ bitch. Say ‘fuck me Marco’ bitch” over and over again while she tried to scream and bite through a thick jacket sleeve. She never saw him clearly as he ravaged her for an hour, and he was never caught. Police said Marco probably wasn’t his real name anyway, just a perverted persona who was so violent with her that he killed her womb.
“Wait,” the virgin asked. “When do I get to talk to my mother again?”
The vamp exhaled. “She disowned us after the rape. I never was able to talk to her again. She died … well … let’s just say Mom died a while back, and she’d never forgiven me for being a tramp — which, you know, we aren’t. We love Martin and really only want him in our life.”
“No. Your parents don’t attend your wedding. Nobody does. It’s just you and Marty. In some ways, it is the saddest day of your life. In many ways, it is the happiest. Maybe we can change things and have that fairy tale wedding, but not in the current timeline.”
Ridiculous. I get raped and I get blamed, the virgin thought. How backwards is that? That is Old Testament babble that was washed away with the Blood of Christ. I am good. I am a sinner, but I am good, she thought. She was angry.
“It’s OK,” Vicki said. She gave her younger self a long hug, something she wished she’d experienced more in life. Hugs from others. “Sit back,” she said as her older self positioned herself on the couch — spread eagled like she’d been a few days earlier fucking her husband in this exact place. She pressed her thumbs into her virgin self’s shoulders.
“That feels good,” her younger self chirped, enjoying the physical pleasure after the emotional pain of a few moments prior.
“Trust me, me, it only gets better,” Vicki snickered.
She rubbed her shoulders and scratched down the back of her spine. As she did it, she felt the new memories of these moments flooding in. It was interesting and something to document. Some new memories had already faded, like walking to College Mall. But some were vivid … like the fear of walking into Graduate Degrees and the feel of her hands on her back.
“I want you to relax with me, OK?” she said.
“I think I already am,” Victoria replied.
They were the same size in all aspects, the same bra, the same height, the same eye color — the same person 35 years apart. Vicki closed her eyes and remembered how horny she was now. And she was as well. She’d had a few lesbian experiences when she opened up about her sexuality in her mid-30s. But she wasn’t sure what this was.
Was this a lesbian experience, or simple masturbation, or mutual masturbation, or sex education?
She stood up and grabbed the black plastic bag, pulling out the video and ripping it from the packaging — pressing it inside the VCR. She hadn’t used one in 29 years, but it was like riding a bike. She remembered the machine and the bahis şirketleri TV.
The virgin sat nervously but had become curious. Even horny. And it was OK. She was with herself, by herself. She wondered why she suddenly felt more at ease with another person in the room than she ever did alone in the shower when these thoughts crept into her mind.
The vamp moved slowly but confidently. Horny. And that was OK. She was teaching herself what she didn’t previously know for another dozen years. She felt at ease with the moment, like she had when Drew had given her a weekend pass to fulfill her lesbian curiousities.
The movie began playing, with a word of warning about sexual promiscuity and why to practice safe sex. It was 1989 at the height of fears of AIDS, and even dirty sex was attempting to be cleaner.
And then, the fucking film began.
The virgin watched the screen like she had her sister through the closet door. Her head down, her eyes up, her curiosity piqued, her shame real.
The vamp positioned herself behind again, rubbing Victoria’s lower back and then her sore thighs. Youth leaned back into age. Worry became supported by maturity. She felt her own breath on her neck and felt wetness without regret awaken her womb.
“What do I like?” she asked.
Vicki smiled. “Oh, pretty much everything. You like sex in public. You like sucking cock. You’re not into anal, but neither is Marty.”
“Sucking … a penis?”
“Say it. Say ‘sucking cock.’ Don’t let the words control you. Control the words.”
Her older self laughed.
“Say ‘I like sucking cock.'”
“I don’t know.”
Fair enough. She shouldn’t push herself. It was another aspect of sex she wouldn’t try for six years into their marriage — until Martin one night suggested 69ing as a way to enjoy orgasms without the pain that sometimes accompanied strong sessions of sex. The scar tissue from the rape and STD Marco had pressed into her in those evil moments.
“I’ll show you what you like,” Vicki said, taking off her blouse and sitting in a loveseat. Her supple breasts still looked healthy for 55. Her tummy taunt from the years of running and health food. I look good at 55, the 20-year-old virgin thought. Darn good.
The images of the video were almost out of focus to her eyes. A decade of Real Color and 3D television put VHS images on a standard definition TV to shame. Still, she liked watching people fuck, and Peter North was starting to fuck the 36DD breasts of Christy Canyon.
She felt her body was still intact. Not taken from her in that awful rape. She was wet and didn’t care. She was with herself. And she knew how to love herself.
She pulled down her khaki shorts and kicked them to the television, falling to the floor and she picked up her bag from Graduate Degrees. She pulled out the vibrator and inserted the batteries as her younger self watched in awe. She was confident, not fearful. She was assertive, not reactionary.
Her younger self looked at her older self in admiration. Her breasts, 34C, were full. There was a faded tattoo along her hip. I get a tattoo? Just like that sorority girl? she thought.
“Here’s what you like, Victoria,” she told her younger self. “Self-love. It’s great.” The 55-year-old sat with her legs crossed and turned on the vibrator. She ran it along her neck — the cock-toy looking like a large purple crayon — as she brought it to her breasts. She ran it into her bra and her nipples became erect against the fabric. Her panties were wet — and her younger self could see the situation. She was also wet as she watched a few feet away. She only watched herself and didn’t really care about the bodies flopping on the television.
She reached around and unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts to the warmth of the apartment along Henderson Avenue. She loved being naked in here and wished she’d known the freedoms 35 years earlier. She ran the vibrator back along her sensitive nipples and arched her back in pure pleasure. She pressed the vibrator between her breasts like she enjoyed doing while sucked Martin’s cock. It certainly wasn’t the 2K20 Lover, but having an audience of herself certainly helped the erotic moment.
Vicki exhaled and spread her legs — pulling her panties off and kicking them toward her bra and shorts. Her private area was clean shaven, her younger self saw. This wasn’t her, a razor had never gone near her bikini line. She didn’t know how she became so brazen. So … horny … but she thought it was intoxicating. Sinful, but so good.
The vamp began sucking on the purple vibrator slowly, the toy bulging against her cheek like Peter North’s cock was bulging against the cheek of Christy Canyon on the television.
“The best lubrication,” she said to her younger self.
The 20-year-old nodded in agreement, although she didn’t know that to be true.
Vicki leaned back far and pressed the toy inside her vagina as she rubbed her clit. She waited until it was all the way in and then looked at her younger self.
“This is where the fun begins.”
She turned on the vibrator and her toes curled in pleasure. Her breasts arched toward the ceiling and she lifted her feet off the loveseat.
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