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From: Mixed Messages <h256190j@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Time After Time Chapter 3 (Fm, fm)
Date: Wed, 24 Apr 2002 05:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Time After Time Chapter 3.asc" begin>

Time After Time, Chapter 3.  (mF, mf)

This story is copyrighted by the author and all rights are
reserved. This story may be posted and or archived at any
site so long as: a) the site is entirely free including free
of any forpay adult verification system, and b) the entire
story is posted including this introduction. Readers may
print this story only for their private non-commercial use.

This story is not intended for distribution to minors. Do
not download or read this story if it would be illegal for
you to do so for any reason. For you underage people who are
reading this anyway, please remember that these are
fantasies only, should not be tried at home, and should not
be taken too seriously.

Feedback will be appreciated. Write to me at
h256190j@yahoo.com . Thank you in advance.

Chapter 3 (mf, mF)

I went to bed that night thinking about the experiences of
the day. I had apparently changed my reality relating to the
night with Julie, but it hadn't seemed to affect anything
else. Diane had come from shopping, we'd ordered take out,
vegged in front of the tube, and crashed early. I mentioned
that I had talked with Julie. Diane asked the usual
questions about their family and I relayed the little I'd
been told that I was willing to pass on.

I wondered why I wasn't able to enter the reality of Julie
with the girls and her stepbrother Hank (see Chapter 2).
While lying in bed and listening to Julie's quasi-snore, I
self-inducted a hypnotic state and experimented with various
events in my past. I quickly satisfied myself that I wasn't
able to assume any role other than mine. Rather than bother
Julie (and because it is hard to self-induct next to someone
snoring), I quietly got up and went to the sofa.

I thought about those extra fifty pounds that I'd put on in
the last twenty years. I figured I'd drift back over the
last year or so and intervene on all those occasions where
I'd had the biggie fries, or the extra three pieces of pizza
or all the crap that I'm capable of stuffing my face with.
None of it worked. Two years ago, I could do it and it would
work. Further experimenting convinced me that I could not
project myself into anything more recent than a full year
ago. At the other end of the time spectrum, there seemed to
be no limit. I remembered a dream that I'd had when I was
three years old. I projected my current self there and got
my little three-year-old body out of bed. I looked in the
full-length mirror on the back of the door of the hallway
closet. I sure looked three. I'd forgotten that I had blond
hair then.

I put my young body back in bed.

For whatever reason, that experience reminded me of what I
was supposed to be doing in terms of my current-day
hypnotherapy. I cast my mind out for events I still cringed
about and was reminded of two utterly unrelated things that
had happened on the same day of sixth grade. In the morning
of that day, I'd caught the school bus as usual. The usual
suspects were on it. Two stops after mine, Pam Williams
boarded. She was newly wearing a full set of braces with
that awful thing that straps around your head. My friends
and I (all boys of course) teased her mercilessly. I was
upset when I saw she was crying, but I wasn't brave enough
to stop teasing her or to tell the others to shut up.

Okay, it's not the most exciting issue in the world and far
from the worst crime. But it was one of those times where I
acted badly. I had never apologized or referred to that day
again. Pam, on the other hand, had been one of only three of
my classmates to attend my father's funeral several years
later. She had shown her class and I had shown mine. That's
why I still cringe after all this time, I guess.

The other incident was altogether different. Miss Kilpatrick
nearly caught me in an embarrassing position on the
stairway. I had been sent on one of those menial errands
that are so sought after by kids that age. It involved
walking down two flights of stairs during class and handing
a piece of paper into the office. In theory, it should have
been quick and easy.

It didn't take anything for me to get aroused at that age. A
change in the wind and poof! my pants were tented. There
were no erections in those days, only hard-ons. I averaged
maybe ten a day. The only way that I knew how to get rid of
them was to jackoff or wait for an interminable period. Mrs.
Fender, my sixth grade teacher, pretty much let us go to the
bathroom whenever we wanted (the boys room for the whole
floor was next to our classroom).  I'm sure she thought I
had a yearlong bladder infection with the number of times I
made a beeline for my preferred stall (at the very back. It
had a window you could crack open about an inch and look out
onto the playground). I was a dirty old man when I was
twelve.

Halfway down the first flight of stairs on my errand for
Mrs. Fender, I got a hard-on simply from the friction of
prick in pants. I couldn't very well walk into the school's
office in that condition, I reasoned, so beating-off seemed
like a perfectly logical solution. There was definately a
perverse appeal from the prospect of doing it out in the
open.

I pulled out my penis and decided to leave a little dab of
sperm on the handrail. That idea seemed even more exciting.
I was well into jerking-off when I heard Miss Kilpatrick
walking up the stairs. Fortunately, she had her head down
reading something and I quickly pulled in and zipped up. We
passed each other without incident. With the thought of
getting caught, I had wilted like raw spinach in a hot wok.

For the hell of it, I projected my current self into my
sixth grade-self on that stairway just before I noticed Miss
Kilpatrick. It was weird at first. First of all, everything
about me was smaller, prick, hand, body. Still, I was big
for my age and stood about 5 foot seven. Miss Kilpatrick
looked to my forty-something eyes to be all of 22 or 23. She
had a blond pageboy haircut and was wearing a simple white
blouse, bright merimeko skirt, and practical shoes.
Remembering the era, I bet she had a full slip on as well.
Her body was not bad, decent sized tits, but a boys hips and
butt. Minimal makeup was plenty for her face that positively
glowed with health and youth. Her purse was slung over one
shoulder.

She noticed me and gasped, nearly dropping her papers while
bringing a hand to her mouth. She backed up unconsciously
until her butt was flush against the opposite wall of the
stairway. I continued beating off and staring at her. It was
fun. I was near cumming.

"David, what do you think you are doing?" she managed to get
out, her voice strangely quiet.

"Why whacking off, Miss Kilpatrick," I answered calmly.

"Well stop," she said, a little louder this time.

"Why?" I asked. This was fun. She was totally flabbergasted.

"You can't do that in public."

"Sure I can," I said. "I'm going to cum on the banister
now." And with that I let loose. The first shot of cum went
straight against the wall, but the subsequent spurts were
more manageable, and I indeed spread them out nicely on the
banister with my prick. Cumming is great at any age.

"David!" Miss Kilpatrick was trying again to regain her
composure. "I don't know what to say. Go to the office right
now and go see Miss -."

I cut her off. "Miss Kilpatrick, why don't you just give me
detention? We don't need to bring the principal in on this,
do we?"

She looked at me oddly. "Okay," she said.

"Shall we say three o'clock?" She nodded. I pressed the last
drip of cum out of my prick and ran it over my lips. She
gasped again. The cum on the banister I spread around with
my hand until it was gleaming, but no longer recognizable.
"Do you have a tissue?" I asked.

Wordlessly, she opened her bag and gave me an embroidered
handkerchief. It was really quite pretty. "Did you do this
yourself?" I inquired.

She nodded again.  I wiped my hands off in the handkerchief
and then gave a few last passes at my prick. The
handkerchief was stained when I was through, but not wet, so
I felt free to put it back directly into her purse. Finally,
I zipped up. As an afterthought, I buckled her purse for
her.

"Until three o'clock then," I said and touched her on the
nose. "Why don't you go back to whatever it was you were
doing? And remember, let's keep this between us."

Without a backward glance, I continued down the stairs to
the office. I was looking forward to three o'clock.

I willed myself back to the present. I couldn't help
grinning. Was she a virgin? I wondered. Could that have been
the first erection she'd ever seen? I would definitely have
to ask.

In the meantime, I knew that I had unfinished business.
Easing into a trance one more time, I put myself onto the
school bus in the morning. It was Pam's stop. She got on and
the teasing about her braces commenced. Kids taunts are
really lame, I thought to myself. At least when you're in
your forties. Pam sat down by herself midway down the row of
seats and immediately behind several of her girlfriends who
were looking at her pityingly and at my friends angrily.
She removed then threw her jacket against the wall of the
bus.

Without saying anything, I got up from the last row (my
usual hangout on the bus) and walked up to Pam. "May I sit
here?" I asked. My friends quieted in anticipation of
whatever nasty thing I had planned. Pam just looked out the
window. I took that as assent and sat beside her.

"New braces, huh?"

Pam still would not look at me. I could see her silent tears
streaming down her cheeks from her reflection in the window.

"You leave her alone, David!" Kathy O'Reilly admonished from
the row in front of us. Her outrage was palpable.

"Pam," I said softly, "may I hold your hand?" I reached out
and touched the back of her left hand.

She turned at me fiercely and shook off my hand. "What do
you want?" she demanded. "Isn't this bad enough already?
What awful thing do you want to say or do to make it worse?"

By now my friends had crowded behind me so they wouldn't
miss a single thing. I held out my hand, palm upwards,
offering it to her. She took it and stared at me wearily.
"Pam, you are a very pretty girl, and those braces are going
to help make you into a beautiful woman. But your beauty
won't be superficial and limited to the outside; your beauty
will well up from within. Just like it does now. People will
admire you for who you are and what a good heart you have.
Those that can't see that," I gestured with my head to the
boys behind me, "well, the heck with them."

Pam looked at me in disbelief. One of my friends behind me
started the singsong "Pam and Davey sittin' in a tree." All
the boys joined in. ". k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then
comes marriage, then comes Davey with a baby carriage." The
cacophony behind us increased with continued wise cracks and
put-downs.

I took my arm and put it around Pam's shoulders. I pulled
her head gently down onto my shoulder. Tears were still
coming down her cheeks. I kissed her on the top of her head.

Pam settled herself into my shoulder and took my free hand,
squeezed it, and held it. She managed a brave smile. "That's
the first time I've been kissed by a boy," she said softly.

"Well, let's do it right then," I replied. I shifted my hips
a little and kissed her dead on the mouth. I could feel all
the new wiring and bracing in and around her mouth, but
ignored it. I also ignored all the shouts and whoops of my
friends behind me. Naturally, I began to have an erection.
Pam must have felt or sensed it because her eyes suddenly
got big. This will have to wait, I thought, and broke off
our kiss.

Kathy was still on the seat in front of us leaning over the
backrest with her knees on the bus seat. "Wow," she said to
me. Pam looked up at her "Wow," she said to Pam.

Pam and I looked at each other. "Wow," we both said
simultaneously and then laughed.

Then, in the best of all possible worlds, I would have
willed myself back to the present and made myself proud.
However, even with a second chance, it didn't go that way.
Women often refer to men thinking with their pricks rather
than their heads, and all I can say is it had been a long
time since I'd felt all those hormones that course through a
twelve-year-old body.

So, instead of just skipping nicely to the present, I stayed
with my arm around Pam. As Kurt Vonnegut said memorably,
"there I was in Times Square after the war with my Purple
Heart on." And there I was on school bus line 12 still 15
minutes from our school with my purple hard-on.

Pam took the jacket that she had angrily thrown off earlier
and laid it over our two laps. She whispered something I
didn't hear. I leaned my head down to her lips. "Is that
your thing?" she whispered. She placed her hand over my
erection in case I had any doubt about the object to which
she referred. I nodded. "Can I feel it?" she asked.  I
looked around and saw that no one was paying attention to us
any more. Twelve year-old attentions span are not long. I
nodded to Pam again.

She traced the outline of my prick through my trousers with
her index finger and then sort of poked at it from various
angles. My forty-something mind was reveling in the feel of
this awkward girl's first fumbles toward sex. I reached
under her coat and placed her hand on my cock and rubbed it
up and down. She got the message immediately and made a few
passes over my turgid member. It was all I could do not to
groan.

I whispered in her ear. "Do you really want to feel it?" She
looked at me confused.
"Do you want to feel it outside of my pants?"



She casually looked over her shoulder and then to the left
and in front of us. She looked at me wide eyed; maybe even
doe-eyed. Then she gave me a quick nod.

I casually reached over to my zipper and very slowly undid
it. I was wearing jockey shorts and rather than try to
negotiate the opening, I just pulled the whole thing to one
side and freed my pounding prick. I quickly found her hand
and brought it in place.

She tried rubbing it. That wasn't too effective because it
was no longer bound by my slacks. I put my hand under hers
and showed her the jacking off action. I got my hand out of
there and let her try. She was quite ineffective, sometimes
too hard, then too soft, then too low. Still, my arousal
level was incredibly high. "Try it with both your hands," I
offered.

Pam shifted her hips and casually dropped her right hand
under the coat. My hands were outside of the jacket and I
held them in prayer posture. Then I rubbed them forward and
back against one another. She got the message and started
rolling my penis back and forth looking at my face for
confirmation. I nodded. She kept right at it. If there was a
hand job badge for girl scouts, I was going to vouch for
her. We were still more than 5 minutes from school.

I leaned to her ear one more time. "Do you know what happens
next?"

She shook her head.

"A little fluid will leak from the tip. It clears the way
for the real stuff. You might be able to feel it now if you
put your finger on the tip of my thing."

She did just that and then withdrew her hand with a dab of
precum on it. She smelled it and then tentatively tasted it.
The sight of it nearly put me over the edge.

"Semen gets ejected from my penis. It is wet and sticky," I
explained. "Do you want to feel it when I cum? that is, when
I have my orgasm?"

"Does it stain?" Pam asked with her lips right on my ear.
"My older sister told me that it stains if it gets on your
clothes."

"Yeah," I confirmed. "We need a napkin or something."

Be prepared say the Boy Scouts, but Pam was no slouch at
making do. She opened her Snoopy lunch box and took out a
Scott's fourply dinner napkin. This would make one hell of
an advertisement, I thought.

"I'll hold it in place," I whispered. "You go back to that
prayer position rolling motion. That's really great."

What a trooper that girl was. She was back on my prick
faster than I could believe was possible and she had perfect
technique. No slow learner, she. Suddenly I could hear Fred
Astaire - I'm in heaven, I'm in heaven.

Once more I whispered in Pam's ear. "If we keep doing this,
it's going to happen. Are you sure you want it to?"

Not stopping was the only reply she gave me. The school came
into view and the dam bust loose simultaneously. Despite my
promise to keep things clean with the napkin, I know that
her hands got at least a teaspoon full of cum. The napkin
probably got a tablespoon's worth. I was frantically
cleaning up as the bus came to a halt in front of the
school. Pam took her hands out from under the coat and
simply rubbed them together in front of her nose. She looked
right at me as she licked her two index fingers
simultaneously. I just stuffed the napkin into my shorts and
zipped up. It was all I could do to hold off from pushing
her down on the floor and fucking her ragged. My mind was
spinning.

Pam took my chin with her hand and brought my gaze to her.
"Thank you," she said in a normal voice. "That was nice what
you did earlier." She brought my lips to hers and kissed me.

"That was nice what you did just now," I said after breaking
the kiss. "I hope you appreciate just how nice."

Pam just smiled and stood up. I realized it was our row's
turn to get out and quickly cut off the traffic from behind
us and motioned for her to go forward. She gave me a little
curtsey and walked down the aisle. I retreated to the
present.

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