Archive-name: 3plus/timeb1.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Timebranches 1





This story is intended to contain fifty percent plot and fifty percent 

....  This is what was intended, not necessarily what happened. 



Warning:  At a minimum, all four possible male/female combinations 

of three people will be covered, so you will probably be offended. 



Part I.

 The balcony overlooked a wasteland of grey grass and lonely 

scarecrow trees.  Two figures lounged there: a woman, her black hair 

spilling over the white arm of the sofa, in  a man's lap.   A hand up 

her skirt, he stroked her wetness through silk.  Tensing and relaxing 

her thigh muscles, she sighed,

  "Ever wanted to walk outside?"

  "No, just sitting here looking unsettles me sometimes, even on this 

side where you can't see the ruins."  Sliding his hand around behind 

her, under the silk, and stroking between her cheeks with his longest 

finger, he said, "What I do want is to take you back inside and then 

take you in backside."   She raised her head and kissed him, her 

tongue probing deep as his finger probed deeper.

  "Not yet," she said, "You know I've never given that part of myself 

away."

  "Mmm, if you're not ready..." He withdrew his finger a fraction.  

  "Oh, you and your toys and your friends have made me more than 

ready," she replied,  "Especially Cytaea.  She could spend a week 

stroking me, even on that silly canopied antique she sleeps in."

  "She never actually sleeps in it, unless you've exhausted her so she 

can't move to her waterbed," he said, giving her left breast a gentle 

kiss.  With well-trained muscles she squeezed his finger, gently slid 

him out,  and slowly stood up, saying, 

  "I didn't have a man between my lips, upper or lower, until I was 

twenty.  I'll keep my tightest place  even  tighter.  But here's an idea:  

let me watch Javael pound you, then you can get between my virgin 

cheeks." 

  "Not Javael," he said, reaching  beneath her skirt and sliding his 

palms up the backs of her thighs, "Javael is one of my biggest.  

You've seen him swinging his tool in the playroom."   Sliding hands up 

under the silk, he grasped her cheeks, slid fingers in, and forcefully 

spread her open, " He would be very..."   

  "...hard to find room for, " she gasped, rising on tiptoe.

  "Indeed."  He released her, stood, and held her close.  "But pick a 

prick that won't pickle me, and OK."  For a minute they embraced and 

gazed through the one-seventh second time-shear, a miniature 

aurora, shimmering at the threshold of vision, which separated the 

house from the land outside.  Bare feet whispering on oak flooring, 

they walked back inside.

  "Sound's like the party's started," she whispered, nearing the 

playroom doorway, "Quiet, let's see who."

  They were by the fireplace, she on hands and knees in the soft deep 

carpet, loose pantaloons down at her knees; he was behind her.  

Sweat flashed in the firelight on her ebony skin as he stroked  her 

back and pushed up her blouse.  Reaching down to hold her heavy 

breasts, he glided his hands under an unhooked  red lace bra which 

fell loose and fluttered in rhythm with his thrusts.   She threw her 

head back as he squeezed, closing her eyes and cooing a soft "Ah!"  

Her partner had not taken time to remove all his clothes either, his 

shirt was open and his pants were down around his knees, uncovering 

a hairy torso and muscular buttocks that clenched hard and released, 

clenched and released.  Shoes and some other clothes were scattered 

on the rug or draped over a glass-top end table next to the hearthrug, 

but that was not what the pair at the door were concentrating on.

  "I don't recognize him,"  she whispered, watching as the man 

reached one hand down between his furiously pumping partner's legs 

and thrust his body hard once, twice, three times.  Her back arched, 

her shoulders, hips tensed, she cried out, and he gently slowed his 

pace.  "But oh, he's good.  That wasn't her first orgasm, either."   For 

a time,  he stroked her lazily, their pace gradually quickening, and 

then he grasped her hips, pulling her tightly to him, and leaned over 

whispering quickly.  She nodded in response, and began to thrust back 

at him, harder and harder.  He gripped her tighter,  barely thrusting 

at all, working hard to keep the two of them from losing balance or 

bouncing apart.  In seconds, their  moans were audible the length of 

the room,  and after a dozen thrusts so rough that the watchers each 

put a protective hand to their crotches, they collapsed onto the rug.  

She gently slid him out of her pussy and rolled over.  They embraced 

and kissed deeply.

  "He's Davys Cary, from a North American timeline, and I expect you 

know her.  Let them rest a few minutes and we'll make 

introductions."

  "U.S.A.?"

  "No, Federated Republic.  For him, America means Point Glacier to 

the canal, Channel Islands to what you'd call Okidara.  He's a driver 

from Mexico City, I'm surprised that they can even communicate."

   They waited a few minutes, touching each other, then announced 

their presence with some loud conversation, and strolled into the 

playroom. 

  "Darling, our guests have begun to arrive already."  She turned to 

them and smiled, "May we join you?  Oh, but first I think we should 

be introduced."

  "Davys Cary and Kaela Mrata, may I present Zhenie Narviel," he said, 

as they sat down cross-legged by their guests. 

  "Pleased," said Davys, lazily stroking a pair of chocolate cookie 

nipples, "and, Ms. Zhenie, I'd happily suggest a lover's square, but 

this Mali beauty says mouthwork is taboo in her line, so if you could 

suggest something?"

  "Oh you poor man," she said, getting to her feet and going to the 

table, "you wait right there."  She rang a small hand-bell which stood 

on the table.  Then she turned around and bent over, her short skirt 

rising, obviously for his benefit, and slowly lowered her silk briefs.  

She was just stepping out of them as the servant entered.  To the 

tuxedoed young man she said, "a washbasin, towels and washcloth, 

please."  As he left, she stretched to loosen back muscles, and leaned 

down to stroke Kaela's shoulder, "May I cut in?"  Sitting next to 

Davys, she stroked his stiffening penis. As they changed partners, 

the servant returned and placed towels and a basin with warm 

scented water by the hearth.  Zhenie rolled Davys onto a towel, 

dipped a washcloth, and began to gently wash his genitals.

  Kaela stretched and sat up, knees wide, pressing the soles of her 

feet together, smiling as Eman watched her lips spread, revealing a 

very wet clitoris.  "It's just forbidden for unmarrieds, Eman.  I have 

many tastes, some that might even make you squirm, so long as I 

don't taste juice, his or," she watched Davy's hand go up Zhenie's 

skirt, "hers, for that matter.  But it'll take time for me to get used 

to watching others do it."  She stood up and began to dress.

  "Barefoot," he said as she reached for her shoes, "it's one of our, ah, 

taboos.  Maybe you'd like to visit the lower chambers, then, and see 

what you'd like to taste?  The servants will see to your shoes."

   She quickly finished dressing as Zhenie dropped the washcloth in 

the basin and  wrapped a towel around Davys' stiff pole. He sighed 

and closed his eyes as she stroked him dry.  Eman helped Kaela into 

her jacket and, seeing Davys' cockhead between Zhenie's lips, which 

then descended unhesitatingly to his root, suggested that they leave.  

In a last look over his shoulder, Eman saw Zhenie straddling Davys, 

lowering her pussy down to his tongue.

   "Let's go see Cerisse," he said, walking toward a stairway at the 

end of the hall, "I assume you like women, in general."

  "Oh, yummy!  But I may just watch.  I had a long trip, and a good 

workout just now."

  "No problem.  She's due for an inspection, anyway.  I hope you'll play 

along."

  "Of course."  

They walked down a hallway to where an oriental woman in a dark 

bodysuit waited by a door.  She stood as they walked up.

  "Cerisse is presentable?" he asked.  The woman nodded towards the 

door.  He knocked.   A short-haired woman in a bright colored tunic 

and trousers opened the door.  She wore no jewelry but a thick 

leather collar,  with two small gems set in it.  They entered a large 

clean brightly lit room with a king-sized bed and a high padded table 

only slightly smaller than the bed.  Two walls were lined with 

closets, but otherwise there was nothing else visible in the room.

  "Strip, cunt." he said.  Then, as she teasingly began to unbutton her 

tunic, "No striptease!  Inspection, slut."  She slipped her tunic over 

her head, and in seconds had her clothes folded neatly on the bed and 

was up on the table on her knees, head down, pussy spread as wide as 

possible.  He ran his hands over her body, sometimes roughly, 

sometimes pausing to knead or pinch, not missing a spot, even 

opening her mouth to examine her teeth.  "All in order, not even a 

speck of belly-button lint on the bitch.  Would you care to have a 

look?"  

  Kaela rubbed her hands together and smiled.  First she ran a knuckle 

up each of Cerisse's legs, then gently along her pussylips.  Abruptly 

she stopped, grasped her lips and stretched them violently apart 

provoking a gasp from the woman on the table.  Cerisse gaped open 

and they could see deep into her wetness as Kaela rubbed each lip 

between thumb and finger.  "A quality twat," Kaela commented, "but I 

think you ought to shave her more often."  She removed her hands and 

wiped them on a kerchief.

  "Indeed?" he said, reaching between her legs and mauling her bare  

mound for a second or two.  "She doesn't shave herself, of course, as 

in the Barber's Paradox, so somebody else on this corridor will 

require punishment, but," he went to a cabinet and withdrew a 

switch, "she is also responsible for keeping herself presentable."  

Pushing down on her back with one hand so that her lips would 

protrude further between her legs, he began to whip her buttocks, 

thighs and lips.  Tears of pain seeped from her closed eyes, but Kaela 

could also see powerful vaginal muscles working, drenched in juice.  

Ten strokes later, Eman laid the switch on the table and took Kaela's 

elbow, escorting her out.  After the door closed, Kaela remarked, 

somewhat alarmed, "Won't that cause some scarring?"

  "No," he replied, "Medical imports some amazing stuff from U.S.A.- 

or Ethiopian-dominated timelines.  After she washes the switch and 

puts it away, she will have her welts tended to."

  "I see.  I wonder if we should go back to the playroom now, or wait 

a bit longer?"

  "Wait a bit."  He paused.  "I do hope Zhenie didn't offend you, 

gobbling a prick like that so quickly."

  "Oh, no.  I just worry that I'll make someone here uncomfortable."

  "Nonsense.  We're not like straights who rag on gays who rag on bi's 

for being indecisive. Et settera.  Et settera."

  "Good.  Now I think I'd like to find my room and be tucked in for a 

nap, it's been a long day."

  "I have just the thing," he said, bending down to whisper in the 

attendant's ear.  She left and returned swiftly with three men in 

tuxedoes.  "They know about your preferences," he said, kissing her 

and turning to go.

  "Are they to your taste?" the attendant asked her, indicating the 

men: a European, an African, and a second European, a large man with 

strong shoulders and long fingers.

  "Delicious," she replied, chuckling at the attendant's choice of 

words.

 "Would you like a bath?  Or a massage?  Or anything else?" 

  "Massage would be lovely,  nothing else.  But these tuxedoes!  I 

would like to feel more than just hands."

  "Of course."  Two of the men trotted off, and the third led her up to 

her guest suite.  By the time they arrived, both men were there, 

standing naked at either side of the turned-down bed.  She walked 

over to the bed and sat down, savoring the sight of stiffening 

penises.   These two men undressed her as the third slowly and 

sensuously peeled off his tuxedo, and then lay prone on the bed.

  "No," she said, "turn over."  He did, and she lay face up on top of him, 

her head cradled on his shoulder and his penis rising between her 

legs.  The two other men massaged her expertly.  Just before she 

dozed off, she stroked the big man's penis and murmured, "One of you 

sleep by me, and all three of you be here when I wake."



  Eman returned to the playroom, arriving as Davys Cary, muffled in a 

silk cloak, was led out by a servant carrying his clothes.  "Special 

request?" he asked, looking at the woman's enormous chest.

  "Yes," Cary replied, "Zhenie said hospitality of the house, so I asked 

for the biggest (natural)  pair here.  Don't worry, I won't wear her 

out, I've about worn myself out today."

  "Mmm," he mused.  "If he says he's tired and wants you on top, dear," 

he called after her,  "don't smother him."   "Now where is Zhenie," he 

wondered.

  "Right here," she said, walking in with a short, blond man in a 

tuxedo.  "I think I've found the man for you."  Eman turned around to 

see Zhenie unzip the mans fly, reach in and pull out cock and balls.  

"I'll get him ready for you," she said, licking her lips and bending 

down to run her tongue up and down the stiffening organ, urging it's 

head out of the foreskin.

  "I assume you're better prepared than just that," he smiled.

  "Of course," she replied, straightening up and taking a tube from a 

pocket of her robe, "so let's get to it."  She sat down next to a low 

padded table and patted it invitingly.  He walked over slowly, 

dropping garments as he went, and stood before her nude.  She 

twirled her finger, and he turned.  Stopping him when his back was 

to her, she told him, "Bend over darling."  He did, and, without 

needing to be told, reached back, grasped, and spread his cheeks.  

Seconds later he felt cool hands sliding into him, probing lubricant 

deep past his loosening anus.  Removing her fingers, she patted the 

table again, "On your back, so I can see how your balls tighten when a 

man comes inside you."   As he lay down, she slowly greased the 

erect cock of the nude man who now stood beside her.  Eman gripped 

the backs of his knees, and watched her position the man's cock at 

his anus.  As the shaft slowly filled him, he felt a hand on his balls 

and gentle fingers on his cock.  "I'll make you squirt," she whispered, 

"and the next time we're together, you can squirt anywhere inside me 

you want."  She stroked his cock and cupped his balls firmly as the 

blond thrust into him.  The internal and external stimulation was 

almost too much.  He wished she had slipped off her robe, but he 

knew she had thought of that and decided not.  He concentrated on 

the touch of her hands, and grew very hard.  She pumped his 

hardness, feeling his scrotum tighten as the greased penis slid in to 

the hilt, out, and in again, faster and faster.  She quickened her pace, 

and both men groaned.  "Ah, how exquisite," she said, watching their 

bodies grow damp with perspiration.  "Feel his balls bounce off your 

ass," she whispered, "think how the sperm will shoot from them into 

you.   I like seeing your ass spread by another man.   Squeeze your 

tunnel around this stud's cock and give the boy a good time.  Now!  

Give me some hot come!"  The words sent him over the edge.  Sperm 

spurted, splashing warm on both heaving chests,  an instant before 

the penis inside filled him with liquid heat.  She kissed him and 

licked her fingers.  Both men flopped to the floor exhausted as she 

got up to leave.



End of part I.  Everything in this document is true except this 

sentence.

--