Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Time Travel, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Trying to remove a cupboard a discovery was made of a portal from the 21st Century to the late 18th Century. Could this be where the last owner was shot? Charles decides to discover who the murderer of the last owner was and in doing finds a new partner.



A house in the country; what I always wanted, away from the noise and bustle of the city. I always loved the fresh air and quietness, when I used to visit my grandmother. In fact this house was only a few miles from where I visited her. Now that I am closer I must visit her again.

Close by is a small village and five miles away a market town where time seemed to have stood still, especially the village of about ten houses, a small multipurpose shop that had an old petrol pump still outside. Unfortunately they no longer sold petrol, but the red pump with the Shell sign was a reminder of days past. I suppose it was too costly to come out here and remove it, so now it stands on its lonely vigil.

The house I bought was in need of repair, also it was said to be haunted. It has stood empty for three years after the previous owner was found with two lead balls in his chest. How the pistol balls got there was and still is a mystery the Police have yet to solve. All this intrigue and the fact the house needed much work done to it was why I bought it. Having won a large amount of money, I intended to work on it rather than retire and do nothing, for why work when you have ten million pounds in the bank.

It was a four-bedroom house, far too large for me, with all the bedrooms upstairs. The kitchen downstairs was huge with a stone slab floor. There had been a range fire installed at one time, the water pipes were still protruding from the wall. This would have to be the first item installed for this was the only cooking, heating and hot water supply for the whole house.

Most repair work I can do myself, but when anything that is connected to water I am a walking disaster area, so unfortunately this task will have to be done by a recognised plumber. This was why I was standing in the kitchen at the present, waiting for the delivery and fitting of a large AGA cooking range. One that fits into the recess that had been specially built in, how long ago I have no idea, for the house had been built at the turn of the century, the last one, not the recent one.

I had brought all my personal effects with me and stored them in the large shed adjoining the house, which still contained personal effects left by the previous owner. Why you ask had they left these items, no one knows, for the house had stood empty for three years and the county had taken possession and sold it, as no next of kin could be found. Through the years vandals had got in to the main house and slowly stripped it of its furnishings and fittings. Somehow they had left the big shed alone and had remained untouched just the way the previous owner had left it.

The electric and telephone had been connected, all I needed was the range and I would be able to move in and start the changes I had in mind. I could have stayed in a hotel but that was in the town, which was too far for me to travel back and forth to, no, I was going to live among the mess until I had it finished.

All the downstairs rooms have been completed with the exception of one small room off the kitchen, which must have been for a servant originally, but had poor shelving installed along the sides. The upstairs rooms had the walls stripped of years and many layers of wallpaper and then redecorated. It had been a Herculean task at times, but now my house was becoming my dream home. One of the bedrooms I had converted into a bathroom, but a company who specialises in that did that task. The reason, water, my boggy-man, but they made an excellent job of it. All I had to do was the passageway, then I would feel a lot better, it has taken me over seven months of continuous work to reach this stage.

I decided to focus on the small room off the kitchen, which I was going to make into a dry goods pantry. Fitted in the end was a wooden cupboard, which had to come out, if I were going to achieve what I had in mind. I tried removing it but it wouldn't budge. I couldn't see any screws on the sides so it must be screwed at the back. Since the cupboard was deep I had to step inside. Once I did so the doors behind me snapped shut and the back opened, taking me into a small room with a floor to ceiling window. On the outside my car wasn't parked outside and the large shed wasn't there. Also it was raining heavily, yet only minutes ago I was outside and the sun had been shinning.

The scene didn't look like anything I had viewed around the house. The road; there was no road only three ruts. Then I noticed there was no water splashes on the window, it was crystal clear. Was this a picture, no, I could see the leaves on the trees being whipped by the driving rain and I could see the rain splashing into the puddles on the ground.

As I looked down there were brown splotches on the floor, each side of the window were cupboards, outside clothes on the left and undergarments and high boots on the right. High boots, it suddenly sunk in, who wears these high boots nowadays? Lying on a shelf was two soft leather bags; I picked one up and found it to be heavy. When I opened it up it must have had at least one hundred various guinea gold pieces with George III's head on them. In the other bag was a mixture of silver and copper coins all the same vintage. These were all before 1820 when the currency changed to sovereigns.

On the shelf were two flintlock holster pistols, fifteen inches long, plus a bag of large lead balls and small bags of powder. I opened the powder bag and realised that these were new and never from the period where the pistols came from. This room puzzled me; everything was of a design two centuries old at least. I accidentally put my hand out and to touch the window and there was nothing there, my hand went straight through. I quickly withdrew my hand and jumped back in fright and just stood staring out through the transparent opening.

Then to my further amazement, a coach pulled by four horses and two riders at the rear appeared on my left and passed out of view on my right. The driver, passengers sitting on the roof and the two riders behind were all dressed in old-fashioned clothing, the riders wore large capes, which covered the rear of the horse as well. Was I going out of my mind? I left the room the way I came and as I stepped through the front of the cupboard the door at the rear closed. I dashed outside into brilliant sunshine, then ran to the back where my car was parked and from what should have been the back of the storeroom I could see the surfaced road that goes to the village.

When I should have been working I was thinking on what I had seen. Surely the brown stains were made by blood? Wasn't the last owner shot with round lead balls? Were they the same that were beside the two holster flintlock pistols I saw in the cupboard? It appeared to me that the man had passed through the window where my hand had gone through and been shot. How and where did he get shot? What was he doing there to be shot? All those questions were going through my mind; I knew I would never get an answer, well not sitting here.

Once again I went into the room and watched through the opening that looked like a window, I just sat there and watched. The rain had stopped and now the sun was shinning. I must have been sitting there for at least an hour when I spotted a man walking up the road. He came behind the bush and had a piss. It was then I noticed that he had a flap on his trousers, not a button up. His jacket was short only waist long and double-breasted. He was wearing high boots with his trousers tucked in them. His hair was in a ponytail and he had a large leather satchel over his shoulder and across his chest, with a stiff coat folded over the satchel.

As he was about to leave another man approached, but he was barefooted and wore a smock with embroidery on it and baggy calf length duck trousers. He too had his hair in a ponytail and as he passed he raised a closed fist and touched his brow and said something to the first man. I couldn't hear what was said but it looked like a salute that was given. I had seen that form of salute somewhere before, was it a movie or somewhere else, I just couldn't remember.

What I had seen was two classes of people for they dressed different. The first man looked prosperous and the other looked like a peasant. All this was intriguing me, yet I couldn't pluck up the courage to go through the opening. I did put my foot through and a hand, but quickly drew them back.

All that night I tossed and turned, I had made up my mind I would attempt to go through, but if I were, I wanted to be armed and armed good. Now it isn't as difficult to get your hands-on an automatic pistol especially if you have the money. I had gone into town and was sitting in the bar when I casually mentioned in a passing conversation I would like to get hold of a handgun, for protection, since I live in so isolated a house. As I was getting into my car a man whom I hadn't seen in the bar approached me.

"I hear you're in the market for a gun - revolver or automatic?" He asked.

"An automatic, something that will stop a man good and proper."

"Smith and Weston 45 be all right, I'll throw in a couple of hundred rounds as well?"

"How much?"

"250!"

"200!"

"No 250 - remember I'm giving you the ammunition as well, plus two extra mags."

"Done!" I replied.

"Give me ten minutes, meet you in the pub," he said scurrying off.

I walked back into the pub and had another beer and true to his word, he was back in ten minutes. We went out the back, he handed me the gun still in its box, still wrapped in brown greasy paper and five boxes of fifty rounds each. I handed over the money.

"Hi, you have given me five boxes?"

"So, I can't count, when you run out see me, I'll get you more, but you have to pay for the next lot," he said smiling as he walked away.

Hell he looked too smug, has he sold me a pup? I can't very well check it out here, so I placed it all back in the plastic bag he brought it in and made my way home.

After cleaning all the preservative grease off and checking that everything worked I loaded a magazine, took it out to the back of my house and tested the weapon. Everything worked and I managed to hit what I was aiming at, which was as much a surprise to me, but then I was only fifteen yards away from a 44 gallon drum. If I were going to shot at anyone, I think that would be about the right distance to make sure if he were hit he would stay down. I was pleased with myself as I returned to the house.

I had decided that I would try to see what was on the other side of that opening, so once again I returned to the room with the pistol tucked into my waistband and hidden by my pullover. To say that I was nervous as I started to pass into the unknown would be an understatement. First I saw my leg disappear then I was a lot happier when I felt my foot on solid ground. Well not quite solid ground, grass, and then I took the final plunge and the rest of my body followed. Now I was standing looking at the same scene I had seen from the opening. I turned and where the opening had been was only two remnants of a gateway. Only about a metre or less sticking up above ground and a heap of rubble behind it. No structure at all, just a weed and bramble tangle.

Nothing seemed different the air smelt the same, but I knew that I wasn't in my own time; I just felt it in my mind. This was enough for now; I turned and retraced my step, back into the small room. I let out a sigh of relief when I was back on to familiar surrounds. Not much of an exploration, but I felt that was enough for now.

I waited for dusk; taking a small torch I once again passed through the opening and started walking towards where the town was. Well I hoped that it was there, for I hadn't checked the year the town had been founded, but knowing this country the town being a market town would have been there for a long-time.

I hadn't walked far and my shoes and trouser bottoms were muddy even though I tried to keep out of the wheel ruts. Then in the distance I saw the dim yellow lights of the town. It appeared to be much larger than the town I had just visited earlier today, but that may be was just an illusion. I had slipped over my shoulders before leaving, one of the cloaks that were hanging up in the cupboard and I was glad I did for it started to drizzle with rain.

There was only the sound of muffled voices as I passed close to the houses as I entered the town. The mud was everywhere, but some residents had placed planks of wood to walk on. It wasn't until I got closer to the centre that the streets became paved with cobblestones, which made walking so much easier. In front of me were two coaches outside an Inn, for now the sound of voices was much louder, mixed with laughter and the sound of a pipe playing from within.

The glasses on the inn windows were like the bottom of bottles, thick and impossible to see through, but just showed there was light inside. There was no one in the coaches and the horses just stood there with heads lowered tethered to post rails. As I stood close to the door of the Inn two men came out and stood not five feet away from where I was standing in the shadows.

I took particular attention to the way they dressed. I had wondered what an object was which was in the cupboard and I saw one of the men remove one from around his neck. So this was what the object was, a silk neck sock as it was called. Both had on high boots, one was wearing tight trousers the other baggy ones, so there were two different fashions. The one with the extensions on his boots swung a cape and fastened it with a large clasp and chain at the front and walked around the corner of the building. A few seconds later he appeared mounted on a horse. Waving to the other man and spoke for the first time, "Take care Michael, for footpads are abound on the High Road." It was then that I saw that he had two pistols attached to his saddle, one either side.

So it seems that some people go armed, so I didn't feel so bad, but my weapon was so more efficient than the ones they carried. At least I had eleven rounds, which could be fired as fast as I pulled the trigger, but my S&W was so different and would surely draw unwanted attention - must do something about that. As I stood in the shadows and watched the two coaches load their passengers, the manner of their dress and mannerisms, I was beginning to get a feel of this time. One thing I did note was that all the people I saw were far smaller than my six feet three; I think the average height would be about five feet seven or eight. The other thing I noticed or should I say smelt was that they all smelt of sweat as they passed me, I wonder how often they washed, for it was a sour unwashed smell.

After the coaches left, I left also and made my way back, relieved when I stepped through into the room once again. Now I had seen how they dressed and I must admit that their manners were far better than today, the way they helped the three women passengers get settled in the coaches. First I had to see if any of the clothing in the cupboards fitted me.

All the clothing was far too small; I needed these clothes if I were going to be able to move freely in the time through the opening, what time period I still wasn't sure about. There were two things I needed, that was a tailor to make the similar clothing as that hanging in the cupboard. The second was a cobbler to make me at least a pair of boots of a size suitable for me. Also I wanted to speak to a gunsmith, who could alter the flintlock pistols to fire modern ammunition. How does one go about these tasks?

My luck continued to run good, I contacted a costume supplier and in exchange for the clothing I had, plus a small donation he would supply me with a replacement of every item, to suit my size. He needed a week, it was originally going to be a month, but with an extra donation that time was reduced to a week.

I returned to the public house and I saw the man who had supplied me with the S&W standing in a corner. I signalled I wanted to speak to him and he came over.

"Surely you don't want more ammunition already?" He asked.

"No I need to speak to a gunsmith, do you know one?"

"You're speaking to one."

"I want two old flintlock pistols converted to fire modern ammunition."

"Oh hell governor you don't want to ruin two good guns that way, I take it they are in good working order?"

"Perfect working order!"

"Bring them and let me see them, better still bring them to my house and I'll tell you what can be done," he said writing his address on a beer mat and handing it to me.

"When?"

"If you are that eager I'll be in, in an hour's time."

"I'll go and get them, and meet you in one hour," I said finishing my drink and leaving him sitting there.

In one hour I was in his workshop behind his house, where guns of all types were in a glass case with a chain through the guards.

"This is my workshop; all the gentry bring their guns in for repair. I am after all a legal gunsmith," he said, after seeing me looking at all the weapons. "But I get my hands-on some under the counter deals, ones that can't be sold openly."

"Oh my! These are in perfect condition and would fetch a good price," he said as I handed over the two saddle holster pistols.

"Can you convert them to fire a 9mm or something of that calibre?"

"No I won't convert these, I have two similar, but cheaper version of these guns, that I will swap with you for these and convert the others to fire a modern bullet. There is plenty of space to install a tube magazine beneath the barrel; I always wanted to try it. I'll do it for a straight swap; I only need a couple of days, for I already have the drawings to do the conversion. See me in three days, no better make that four days, in case I run into some snags," he said with that smile again on his face.

"Great, just what I wanted," I said. Now I felt a bit better not having to worry about all that flint, powder, wadding and lead balls.

For the next few days I concentrated on finishing the decorating and painting, trying to take my mind off the small room. But at least twice a day I returned just to see what was happening on the other side of the opening. It was on one of these visits and now the cupboards were nearly empty that I discovered the horde of more gold guineas in a small wooden chest under a loose board in the floor of the right cupboard. What had the previous owner been doing to be able to horde such, I was sure was a small fortune even in those days of so much gold coinage. Yet another mystery about the dead previous owner's activities was being revealed.

When I went to pick up my pistols I saw that they weren't exactly like the ones I gave him but thicker and shorter in length.

"I know that these pistols are based on a later model, these were Government Issue, but with the thicker furniture, I was able to install a 10 round tube magazine. You now have a 9mm automatic pistol that even has a longer range than the S&W I sold you. Your pistols were made by Heylin of London a renowned gunsmith. These had the Tower Crown and 'GR' markings, which I've machined off. Now why do you want these two weapons, I could have sold you a 9mm for a quarter the value of one of these pistols you've swapped me."

"I just wanted two modern pistols in an old-fashioned stock," I lied.

"Look if you get any more of these pistols I'll give you a good price for them. Collectors are eager to buy any good quality flintlocks."

"Can you sell me some spare ammunition for these?"

"Here, take four boxes, I've come out of this deal good enough already, for you to be paying for bullets." He said handing me four boxes of 9mm ball.

The following day I had a telephone call from the costume tailors telling me everything was ready to be collected.

That evening I dressed in the outfit, which felt tight and awkward. The jacket felt too short and the flap on the trousers just didn't seem right. The high boots though comfortable when on, were difficult to get on and off, but that was something I had to persevere with. I had to get used to wearing the clothes, so for the rest of the evening I walked around with them on. I even had to get used to the half hunter pocket watch. My pocket watch was a Smith's for I couldn't get hold of a John Walker who was a famous London watchmaker. Looking in the mirror I felt a right burke. The next morning I again dressed in the period clothing, which was becoming more familiar.

Placing my S&W in the shoulder holster the gunsmith had given me I stepped through into my new world. Turning right this time I continued walking, which was surprisingly easier in the high boots. I came to where there was a small village in my time to find a coach-house. This was going to be the most difficult task, entering this place in daylight. I had to face the people sometime and this was as good a time as any.

In the bar that looked similar to some country pubs in my time, except behind the counter were wooden barrels with taps and instead of glasses there were pewter ware tankards hanging from hooks from the shelving above the bar. Nowhere was there spirits on view unless they were in the casks.

"What would be your pleasure Sir, ale or rum? The publican asked.

"Ale please," I answered.

"Single or full?"

"Single please," I answered not knowing the difference.

"That will be one hay-penny," he asked placing the brimming tankard in front of me.

I took one of the halfpennies from the pouch I had placed various denominations and placed it on the counter.

"You'll be a stranger, in these parts?" He asked, at least I understood him.

"Yes, from the colonies," I answered, not knowing what else to say and something to account for my different manner of speech.

"You are welcome to stay here, we get many gentlemen staying here, our beds are clean, free from lice and you have the bed to yourself," he said.

"I am just taking a walk today, I already have lodgings," I answered.

I sat at the scrubbed wooden table on a scrubbed bench stool and watched four men play dominoes. What the game was I couldn't follow. After half an hour I rose to leave.

"Take care Sir there are footpads who will rob you for a halfpenny," the innkeeper called as I reached the door.

"Thank you I will take care."

I walked along the track and at the top of a hill I looked over the landscape, which rolled out to the horizon. Sprinkled randomly were single and clusters of houses all emitting plumes of smoke spiralling up in the still air. Glancing down the other side of the hill there was a coach stopped; three men were pointing pistols, one up at the coach driver dressed in a livery and the other pointing at the main body of the coach. Slowly the door opened and a woman stepped down on to the ground. From here she looked elderly, but one of the men grabbed her roughly and threw her on to the ground.

I don't care what time period this was, no way was I going to stand back and let three ruffians tread an elderly person that way. I ran down the hill, fortunately that they had their backs to me, so by the time I was in pistol range they hadn't spotted me.

Levelling the S&W at the man who had thrown the woman to the ground, for now I saw she was elegantly dressed and no doubt a lady of some importance. "Right just lower your pistols and back off," I called out.

All three turned to face me, three of the dirtiest men I'd ever seen, they were worse than any homeless I'd seen in my time. Now I had three pistols pointing at me, but the one I concentrated on was the man who had mistreated the lady. "Just back off and get away from that coach."

"What manner of speech do you speak? What are you going to do with that little pistol, or is it a pistol?" He mocked.

"Believe me; don't even think of trying to find out?"

Then I saw a puff of smoke and felt the ball pass close to my face. Three times I pressed the trigger and he was pushed back and landed with his back against the coach wheel, with a hole in his cheek and two holes on his shirtfront. His two partners just stared at me as if deciding what to do. Then the one who had been pointing the pistol at the driver fired at me but it hit the ground just a foot from me. Knowing that he would have to reload I turned to the other man and fired without even waiting for him to decide. As he hit the ground the pistol fired and the ball went whistling through the trees.

Again I faced the man who had fired at me.

"How does your pistol fire without reloading," he asked throwing his pistol to the ground and holding his hands in the air.

"Pick up your partner and get out of here, if I ever see you again I'll kill you."

He ran to the man who I had last shot, helped him to his feet and with an arm around him, vanished up a pathway among the trees. The coach driver started to dismount and I went and helped the lady to her feet. It was then I saw she was indeed elderly, in her late fifties I estimated.

"You are not from this land, your speech is English but not of this land," she said with her gloved hand on my arm. "I am Lady Spencer-Smyth; I owe you my life young man."

"Are you well My Lady?" The coach driver asked speaking with his head down.

"Yes thanks to this young man, how can we ever thank you taking on those three ruffians all by yourself. I am entertaining some guests on Saturday, I would like you to come, say at seven, dress informally my guests would prefer it that way. Please say you will come."

'I'm sorry I don't know where you live?"

"Tornton House, this road leads straight to it," she said entering her carriage and when the driver mounted his high seat, drove off with a wave.

The people seem the same as in my time, good and bad; I suppose it has always been like this. I had decided I'd had enough and started walking back up the hill. I had barely reached the crest of the hill when a shot sounded and in front of me a lump of turf flew into the air. I turned but saw no one, but the undergrowth was thick here. One thing was certain this was a dangerous place to be walking alone, that was for sure. I increased my pace and made it back to the safety of my house without any other incident.

I scoured the Internet and found a supplier of lightweight body protection gave my sizes and asked the vest be sent express delivery. I didn't want a huge bulky one as the military and police wear, but one that could be worn under a shirt, the same as diplomats wear. The one I ordered was knife, spike, fragmentation, soft and hard pistol protection, more than suitable for what I wanted. When it arrived the next day there was also a neck and forearm protectors added, which I felt would also be handy. Now I felt less vulnerable.

The evening before, waiting on my body protection arriving I emptied the wooden cash box and counted the coins. I couldn't believe there could have been 2,300 gold guinea's in that box. Sure it was heavy, but gold is. Now how could my predecessor amass so large a fortune, for a large fortune it was? Ordinary people spoke of farthings and halfpennies, not in guineas; a silver shilling was considered a large amount of money.

At least I was getting my exercise by walking everywhere, what I needed was a base on the other side, somewhere where I could keep a horse. Not only was I carrying my S&W, but also I had the converted flintlock clipped on to my belt. Now let anyone try to hold me up, they'll be in for a terrible shock. I really felt secure with my body armour and carrying a rapid firing 9mm converted flintlock.

It seemed strange entering a house only lit with candles and smelly oil lamps instead of electric lights. Everything seemed so shadowy and dark. Lady Spencer appeared to be so keen to introduce me to her guests that she pulled me into the room where three elderly men were seated. Even though she was in finery, the three men were dressed in a similar manner to me, so I didn't feel so conspicuous.

"Three business colleagues of mine," she said without giving me their names. It was obvious that they were Jews, not that I have anything against Jews, but it seemed strange seeing them in this ladies presence.

"As you know women are shunned, if she is known to engage in business, so I have to be discrete. My friends are here to start a bank, for now factories are going up everywhere; there is a need for money, a need that has never been seen in this country before. Since we lost the colonies in America six years ago we no longer can rely on an income from there. Unfortunately, even if everyone knows the Jews are the main bankers they would rather deal with one of their own kind."

Now I knew the exact date I had landed in. The Americas gained their independence in 1783 and she said six years ago so this was 1789, the year of the French Revolution. She was right; there will be a demand for goods - war goods.

"Why are you telling me all this My Lady?"

"I was hoping you would like to be the figurehead for my friends and me?"

"Only on the condition I can come in as a partner, how much would I have to invest?"

The three men started talking in Yiddish and I had no idea what they were saying to one another. Then what appeared to be the spokesperson answered. "My name is Isaac Hillman; the least amount needed to become a partner would be 500 guineas. Have you that amount to invest young man?"

"I was thinking of two thousand, but I have no conception of banking. I would be placing my trust in your ability to increase my investment."

I think I hit him hard when I stated the amount, for immediately the three of them went back into a huddle; it was obvious that I had stated an amount that made them excited.

"That amount was beyond any amount we ever expected, we could only give you in the first year, ten maybe even fifteen per cent return."

"That is more than acceptable, in fact it's good. Now how do we draw up the agreement, I want this all put to paper and signed by all partners."

"Oh it will, in fact you will be an equal partner in the bank, we can't say how much we appreciate you joining us," he replied almost ringing his hands at the thought of getting his hands-on my money.

The money wasn't mine in the first place so why should I worry if it gets lost, but somehow I doubted it, not when you saw the three men in front of me. They were the type who would screw the last penny out of anyone who owed them money, typical looking bankers.

I never thought I would see a Lady of the Realm so excited as Lady Spencer was on hearing what was being transacted. Her bottom was wriggling on the seat as though she was sitting on hot coals.

"We will have the papers drawn up and here by Monday, can you bring your investment then. The quicker we get started the faster and greater our returns," Isaac said.

"If that is the case then you will need my name, its Charles Forsyth. You get the papers drawn up and we are in business," I said then as an afterthought. "One piece of information for you, Britain will be at war with France soon and there will be a demand for food, clothing and everything else an army and navy needs in a time of war."

"How come you have this information," he asked, while the other three just stood and stared at me.

"I can't tell you, but it will last many years," I said and realised I'd said enough, but being bankers I could see them counting their profits already.

I thought we were all here for a meal, but the three Jewish bankers left shortly after, leaving Lady Spencer and I alone.

"You are an amazing young man, and a very rich one it appears, yet you walk around the countryside. Most gentlemen of your worth would be riding in a coach or on horseback accompanied by a young woman, many young women," she said moving closer to me.

Now older women never turned me on in the past but somehow this woman just oozed sexuality, maybe it was just the way she was dressed. She rang a small handbell and a middle-aged woman appeared with a white bonnet tied with a great bow by her right ear, and wearing a black dress.

"Emma, dinner for two and make up the spare room bed we have guests tonight," she said, and then turned to me when Emma left the room.

"You will stay the night?"

"In a cold bed all to myself?"

"Surely you don't want to share a bed with an old crow like me?"

"Why not all the good tunes are played on old fiddles," I answered, to which she giggled. Hell this was easier than going to a brothel; she took it for granted I wanted to shaft her. I wasn't kidding myself, it was the fact that she thought I was rich that was going to open her legs for me. Maybe this time period was going to be better than I thought.

One thing about these people they go to bed early, after we ate, which was tasteless, hardly any spices were used and it tasted bland, we moved up into her bedroom. How I was going to cope without my usual evening shower, but then it had been a long-time since I bedded a woman, I can forgo one shower.

"You know my name, what do I call you?" I asked her as she was shedding her many layers of clothing.

"Grace, but I don't feel very graceful at the present moment, would you help me off with my clothing, or we will be all night getting these off." She said smiling, but looking at my modern underwear and the huge bulge in the front of my underpants.

She was wearing corsets, and two other laced up items I had never seen on a woman before, but she was soon standing as bare as the day she was born. Hell I thought, she had a good body on her, all hidden with the clothes she wore. This was going to be more pleasant than I at first thought. When I dropped my underwear her eyes really opened, I don't think she had ever seen a ten-inch cock before, but being a lady never said anything.

I was here for only one thing and that was to sink my cock into this willing body, for that was so obvious what she wanted. On the bed she just raised her knees, exposing her womanhood to me, gripping behind her knees to spread her legs for me. Here was a well-trained woman and as I inserted my purple head into that warm nest it was the most pleasant sensation I have had for many months.

As I slid all the way in she was thrusting her hips into me in little pushes and then when our pubic bones touched she wrapped her arms around me. "Charles you are a big man, never have I felt so full, please just let me get used to this feeling, it is so nice and you are so gentle."

Now why would she say that, was her other sexual partners rough, or was it the way she liked it. I would soon find out, but I needed this woman's support, for I intended to enjoy this step back in time. I hadn't to do anything though that could affect me in the future though.

I knew when to start pumping my meat into her when she started her gyrations and thrusts. I kept up a steady stroke, not thrusting too hard, just sinking in and out slowly getting the maximum pleasure from her quite tight but well lubricated pussy. I wonder what they called it in these times. Whatever they called it, it felt as good as it done in my time. Sure she was a lot older than any woman I've ever fucked, but it was pussy and she seemed to be a member of the gentry, so I loved it all the better.

There was no second thoughts in just spurting my load into this lovely warm envelop I was buried in and she seemed so happy too.

"Oh Charles, that was so nice, you will make all the ladies jealous of me. Do all men where you come from treat a woman as gentle as you did with me?"

"That is the second time you have said that, why?"

"My son used to press himself on to me, he was always rough and made me obey and do anything he wanted."

"Your son; you mean he committed incest and you done nothing about it?"

"Who was I to tell, he is the Sheriff of this area, and he is the law. What he did was no different to any other women, mothers, sisters or even grandparents. If the man wants to use you, what else is there to do?" She said.

"I know it happens where I come from, but not often."

"I don't believe you; it has been going on since man came on this world and will always happen. But it has been a few years since a man has looked at me. Charles it's me who has been given the most pleasure," she said giving a little wriggle to see if I were still embedded inside her.

At that stage I slipped out of her hot pussy and lay back on the pillow. Her bed must be stuffed with feathers it was that soft and comfy, as I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling.

"Grace, do you know where I could rent or buy a house, one that is isolated, for I hate nosey neighbours?"

"There is the house, by the haunted ruins, no-one likes going near there. It was let to a stranger like you, but three years ago he left and never returned. There is two black slaves living there, I let them stay for I knew no-one else will rent the place, well no-one from around here."

"Two black slaves? How big is the house?"

"Big enough, it has a stable and a little land. You can rent it or buy it. I will willingly sell it for 50 guineas."

"Surely it is worth more than that?"

"I was expecting you to haggle over that price." She said laughing at my questioning her price.

"Done, I'll buy it from you."

"I'll get my Factor to draw up the relevant papers, it's yours and I'm glad to get rid of it. Gerald will be so pleased that at long last it is out of our hands."

"Who is Gerald, and what is this thing about the Factor?"

"Gerald is my son, he will be here tomorrow, then you can meet him yourself. The Estate Factor he runs the estate for us, not very efficiently, I wish we had more efficient estate factors, so we landowners need worry less. I'll have him take you out to the house tomorrow morning. Now could I have this lovely cock back where it does the most good?" She asked, for she had been working her hand up and down my shaft as we lay there and I was hard and raring to go once again.

For an elderly woman Grace loved her cock, as twice more that night we became one, the more she got the more she wanted and I was glad when it was morning.

John Thompson the factor took me in a trap pulled by a trotter, the horse just glided over the road. We called into the coach house and had a tankard of ale before making for the house I had just purchased; well I still had to pay the money. We turned off into a small opening and in about a hundred yards from the road, pulled up outside of a house with a well-tended front garden. Two African women stood at the door as we approached.

It was obvious that we were not welcome as the first words John said was "Stand aside or I'll have you flogged," to the women.

As I passed I heard one of the women say "White honky," and I knew I had met someone from my own time, for I'm sure that wasn't an eighteenth century saying. I made no indication that I heard what was said but followed John through the house. Out the back in the stable were a horse and a two wheeled trap just like the one he had.

"Looks very nice, I'll let you go and I'll follow later," I told him.

"Take no lip from these black bastards, use the whip, that puts them in their place," he said as I accompanied him to his trap. Both the women heard what he had said. I stood and watched him until he was out of sight and turned and faced the women.

"Well who called him a white honky, I know you're not from this time so if you want to return to your own time, speak up."

"Thank God, at long last, oh I've been waiting for ten years on someone saying these words," the youngest of the women said rushing forward and threw her arms around my neck.

"Who is this woman?" I asked indicating the other African woman who's colouring was almost black.

"This is Umra she comes from West Africa. She was given to Simon as a gift by his Dutch friends."

"Who are Simon and his Dutch friends?"

"Simon was the man who brought me here, he was a slaver and his Dutch partners do the dirty work. Every six months they bring Simon's share, but I haven't see him for three years," she told me.

"He's dead, he died of gunshot wounds."

"I would love to shake the hands of the people or person who shot him, he was a real bastard. He brought me here blindfolded and until Umra came I was his slave and sex object, it was either submit or be sold as a slave in the America's."

"What is your name, no don't tell me. I'll get you back, tonight I promise you. Now where is this money that the Dutch brought for Simon?"

She showed me five very heavy bags containing gold guineas. I counted out one hundred and pushed them over to the woman, "Here take these, you will get a fortune for each one. Questions would be asked if you tried to pass a lot of them, so just pass one every now and again.

"Really, you're not kidding me?" she sounded surprised.

"No they are yours. Now does Umra speak English?"

"Yes she does, but she's shy. She's been badly treated by white men."

"Umra, I can't take you back with this lady, but I would like you to be my housekeeper here. I'll pay you a wage and I won't be beating you," I said.

"Thank you master," she said.

"No not master, Charlie! You are to call me Charlie," I said hoping to put her at ease.

"Now can anyone help me harness this horse and cart?" I said with a laugh.

"Umra can, you want to get her to show you, or otherwise you will stick out like a sore thumb here,"

I was shown around the house again by the woman, one thing I did notice there was two pressure lamps, something amiss in this time.

"Where did these come from?"

"Simon brought them. He used to bring Kerosene, but now there is none left."

Also I noticed something that was common in my time and would go unnoticed, water taps on the sink.

"Don't say you have hot running water?"

"Yes Simon brought a plumber here with pipes, taps, boiler, everything and had him install it. We have a shower in the basement, out of prying eyes."

"What happened to the plumber?"

"He left with the Dutchmen, he wanted to go to the America's, but I expect they threw him overboard."

I was glad the horse was docile and after ten minutes I soon got the hang of steering it, I will have to learn as I go along.

"You be ready to leave when I return, I'll be taking you back to your own time, but much has happened in ten years."

"I'll be waiting," she said all smiles.

The horse didn't trot like John Thompson's horse but it kept up a steady pace and once again I pulled up outside Grace's house. There was a saddled horse tied up outside, therefore Grace had a male visitor for women didn't ride horses with full saddles.

"Oh Charlie this is Gerald my only son," Grace said introducing me to Gerald.

He placed one foot out bowed and swept his right hand in front of him," Pleased to meet you sir, I believe you are interested in the house by the haunted ruins?"

I didn't know how to respond to his display so I remained standing.

"Yes and here is the 50 Guineas as agreed," I said handing Grace the small bag containing the gold coins.

"No that is far too much, he said taking the bag from Grace, opened it and handed me back twenty. Thirty is plenty, glad to get rid of it," he said and handed the bag back to Grace. "I'll have John Thompson get the papers drawn up. What is your profession Charles?"

"Banking and Estate management," I answered adding the last bit, for I think there is a good livelihood to be had from this area.

"Never heard of Estate Management before, everyone in this country looks after their own as far as I know?"

"Wouldn't it be better to get someone who specialises in it? It would save much time and money for landowners."

"I must talk to you more about this. Yes I like the idea," he said.

Gerald was wearing tight trousers with a leather fob with the watch hanging from under his short jacket. His high boots were two colours, like the ones you see at hunts. His shirt had ruffs and his throat sock was white like his shirt. He looked the prosperous landowner, in dress and bearing.

When Grace left us in the room he turned to me, "Are you per chance bedding my mother? Oh I don't object if you are, she just loves her cock." He said with a smile.

"I hear you dipped your wick there also."

"So she told you; you must have made her feel good for her to tell you that."

"Don't worry I won't pass it on, your secret is safe with me."

"Excellent Sir, I see we will become close confidents. I am very glad I met you, we will meet again, but I have to return to King's Lynn and it is a long ride." He said bowing to me again and then left.

When Grace returned I gave her my apologies and told her I would see her tomorrow to meet Isaac.

By the time I reached my new house I felt I was handling the horse like a veteran, but I left it to Umra to unharness the beast.

The woman and I walked back down the drive and on to the road. Just before I reached the entrance to the window I took a black hood, which I had found on the cart and put it over her head. It was loose, but she wouldn't be able to see out.

"Sorry I have to do this to you, but I don't want you to see where we are going. I will lift it off when we get there. It may be some time but it isn't uncomfortable now is it."

"No, I don't mind just as long as I get out of this place."

I took her hand and led her through the two stumps of rock, through my house and made her sit on an easy chair while I changed into 21st century clothes. Five minutes was all it took before I had her sitting in my car.

"Oh I know I'm back, it feels great to just hear the sound of a car engine again. I drove around a bit until it was pitch-dark and then I stopped in the middle of Fakenham, handed her a fifty pound note, "Here take this you will need it until you can cash in these guineas. By the way you are in the centre of Fakenham in Norfolk." I let her out and drove off with my lights out, hoping she wouldn't think of looking at my numberplate. In my rear-view mirror I noticed her back was towards the car as she looked around so I knew she hadn't taken note of the number plate. I drove back towards my own 21st century home, stopping at a garage to pick up two five gallon tins of kerosene.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Time Travel /