Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Rape, BiSexual, Superhero, BDSM, Spanking,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In this sequel to "Resurrection," our heroine discovers the wonders -- and hazards -- of time travel.
"Am I dead?" SG asked.
The corpulent figure on the alabaster throne frowned. "What is death?" he asked.
Answering a question with a question wasn't very polite, thought SG. But she needed his help, so she decided to answer him.
"Death is the absence of life," she said, like a schoolchild reciting a lesson.
"Nonsense," said the fat man. "Is this dead?" He took a ring from his finger and tossed it to her. It was made of silver, with an emerald the size of a robin's egg.
"No," she said.
"So, it's alive?"
"Then," said the fat man in a bored and superior tone of voice, "death cannot be merely an absence of life."
SG fell silent for a while.
"Let's start over," she said at last. "I confess I don't have a precise definition of death. But can you tell me whether I am dead?"
"If you were a native-born earthling, we could dispense with all this," he said. "Even the most irreligious earthlings have some sense that finis is not quite finis. But you..." He waved his hand as if trying to brush aside an insect, or an unpleasant thought.
"Am I dead?" she asked again, more loudly than before.
"No," he shouted, half-rising from his throne. "No, you are not dead, as much as I might wish you were. You are in a different dimension, and you have different attributes than you once had, but you are not dead."
SG folded her arms across her chest and felt her bare shoulders. She seemed to be solid, not a mere ghost.
"I know what you're thinking," the fat man said with an exasperated sigh. "You're thinking that you are still a physical, sentient being. Even a sexual one. But I must warn you that things are very different now." He paused, shifted his massive body and farted loudly.
"That crude contraption, Koko, didn't kill you. I'm not sure anything can. But you have taken a new form. What once was matter is now mostly energy. You will discover that you can race far into the future, or into the past. Once you get the hang of it, you will be able to move through space and time at will."
"Are you my guide?" SG asked.
"Good heavens, no," cried the fat man. Then he giggled. "'Good heavens' — now there's an interesting exclamation. Haven't used it in years."
"Well, if you're not my guide, who are you?"
"Oleander, the gatekeeper," he said.
She wondered where the gate was, then noticed for the first time that there were two arched doorways in the curved wall behind the fat man's throne.
"Which is the gate?" she asked.
"Both are gates," he answered. "One will take you back to that stuffy body bag, in that dreary motel room, where you will await the ministrations of your boring cousin."
"And the other?" she asked.
"The other will take you someplace else."
"Yes, but where?"
"Someplace different from that motel," he snapped. "I can't be more specific. The choice is yours."
It wasn't a very hard choice, she thought. Almost anything would be better than having to return to the helpless state she was in, dependent on Kal-El to figure out how to restore her to something resembling a normal life.
"I'll take the gate into the unknown," she said. "Which one is it?
"In such situations, I usually don't offer advice," said the fat man with a sly smile. "But for some reason you provoke in me a feeling of pity. The gate you want is the one on the right."
"Thank you," she said, as she headed for the doorway.
"But wait," he cried. "A gratuity is expected under such circumstances."
"I'm sorry," said SG. "I haven't any money."
"Oh, I have no use for money," he said. "It's your tender flesh I want." At that, his jaws opened obscenely, until his mouth was as wide as SG was tall.
At that moment, a sudden wind pulled her off her feet and carried her past him and through the arched doorway she had chosen.
Her "goodbye" was lost in the rush of air.
SG found herself sitting in a classroom with a dozen other young women and three young men. Pacing up and down in front of the class was a thin, bespectacled man not much older than his students. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt, a sleeveless sweater and khaki pants, and SG thought she had never seen anyone quite so dorky.
"It really is quite beautiful," he was saying. "I wish you could see it. I don't understand why artists — well, some artists — think that beauty is their exclusive domain. The world as revealed through physics, from subatomic particles to the cosmos, is more beautiful by far than anything ever created by painter or sculptor."
"Or poet?" asked a dark-haired girl sitting next to SG. She smiled impishly.
"Yes, more beautiful even than poetry," said the young professor. His face softened for a moment, and he added, "But it really isn't fair for you to bring up poetry, Kathy."
Then a bell went off in a hallway, and the students started gathering their books and papers.
"Read Chapter 3," said the professor, "and try your hand at the problems on the website. I know none of you are math majors, but they really aren't that difficult."
He stuffed papers into a battered leather briefcase as the students filed out. When he looked up, he saw SG.
"You're new, aren't you?" he asked.
"I guess so," she said.
He reached back into the briefcase and pulled out a sheet.
"What's your name?"
She wasn't sure how to answer. Finally, she decided that what had been good enough for Marston was good enough for whatever college she now found herself in.
"Sallie. Sallie Gale."
"Sallie Gale, huh?" he said. He looked down the class roll. "Uh, let's see — Finney, Flannigan, Grabowski. Well, it seems you're not on the list. Do you have your class schedule?"
"Not with me," she said, which was technically truthful.
"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Well, welcome aboard. You've missed two classes, but I think you can catch up. Just bring your schedule with you to class on Friday."
Suddenly, he seemed to see her for the first time. He gave her the kind of look she was very familiar with, then he blushed and fiddled with his briefcase.
"See you Friday," he said, then he hurried away.
SG smiled at his awkwardness. There was something rather charming about him.
In the hall, students were heading to their next classes. They weren't dressed the way they had been in 1956 or '73. Some of the boys wore T-shirts, baggy pants and baseball caps turned backwards, but others were dressed in jeans and shirts with collars. The girls mostly wore jeans, too, but there was less conformity than she remembered from her last two exposures to college life.
She looked down at her own clothes. Short khaki skirt, white tennis shoes, loose silk blouse with a big floral pattern. She wondered who chose them. The ring Oleander had given her hung on a silver chain between her breasts.
"Hi." It was Kathy, the girl who had sat beside her in class. "What do you think of him?"
"Who?" SG asked.
"Dr. Kase, of course. I think there's something so-o-o-o sexy about him. And we're so lucky. I mean how many students get to take a physics course from someone on the ten-most-promising-scientists-in-America list? And we aren't even science majors."
She paused and looked at SG with sudden alarm. "You aren't majoring in math or physics, are you?"
"No," said SG.
"Oh, thank goodness. They said this was a physics-for-dummies course, just for humanities majors. You know, to promote cross-cultural understanding and all that."
"Right," said SG, who had no idea what Kathy was talking about.
The two young women walked slowly toward the big door that led out into the quadrangle.
"What's your next class?" Kathy asked.
"I don't have one," said SG.
"Good. Let's go get a Coke."
SG decided to stick with Sallie Gale as her name. It was innocuous and all-American. She added that she was a transfer student from Marston College, which was true, in a way. Kathy had never heard of Marston.
"What dorm are you in?" she asked.
SG thought quickly. "Well, I don't have a room yet. Admissions and housing didn't communicate. I mean, they cashed my check, but things are sort of screwed up."
Kathy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's amazing. All these geniuses on the faculty, and they can't get a simple housing application straight. Well, you can spend at least tonight with me. My roommate barely checked in before she had to go back home. Her father had a heart attack. I guess it was when he opened the tuition bill."
"You're very generous," SG said. And very pretty, she thought.
After dinner, they watched television in Kathy's dorm room. SG had seen color TV before, but never a picture so clear. And she was astounded by the kind of shows on the air: comedies about gay men living with young women, jokes about the size of breasts and penises, crime dramas with the kind of language she had been taught to shun.
"They can say things like that?" she asked, when a street punk told a cop to "fuck off."
Kathy looked at her in surprise. "Of course they can. You haven't been watching much television, have you?"
"No. Or reading the newspaper much, either," said SG, hoping to preemptively explain any inappropriate references or questions that might pop up in her conversation.
But Kathy wasn't interested in conversation, or television. She had been sitting in a second-hand armchair, while SG was stretched out on the floor. Now Kathy joined her. They lay on their sides, face to face, their heads propped up on their hands. Kathy leaned forward and brushed her lips against SG's.
"Do you like that?" she asked.
SG answered by rolling Kathy onto her back and kissing her passionately. In seconds, they were tearing off their clothes.
Kathy was an expert lover, with a gift for sensual teasing that SG found irresistible. When she licked SG's pussy, it was like a concert pianist playing a charming, childish ditty.
After three orgasms, SG decided to return the favor. She slid her tongue down Kathy's belly and into her crotch. And suddenly, she saw — knew, experienced — the last time Kathy had made love. She felt the sensations Kathy had felt, heard the voice of the man who was on top of her, smelled his body.
She sat up.
"What happened?" Kathy asked. "What's the matter?"
"I don't know," said SG, her face registering her confusion. "It was as though... I can't explain it. I saw you with a boy. I felt it. I felt him on top of you... of me. His name was Eric and he had a tattoo of a horned toad on his left shoulder."
"How the hell do you know about Eric?" Kathy demanded. "What kind of game is this?"
"It's not a game. When I began licking your clitoris, I suddenly tapped into something. Your memory. Your experiences."
Kathy was on her feet, furious.
"Get out of here," she shouted. "Get out."
SG dressed quickly. She felt devastated. But she hadn't meant any harm.
"Is Eric fucking you, too?" Kathy asked coldly as SG prepared to leave.
"I've never met Eric," SG said. "Please, do one thing for me. Think of a number while I'm kissing you. A big number, too big to guess."
Kathy looked at her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.
"You pull this stunt and you want to kiss me?"
"Please," said SG.
They stood far enough that they had to lean forward to kiss. Neither girl touched the other, except for their lips.
Then SG pulled away and said softly, "Fifty-three thousand, two hundred and eleven."
"Holy shit!" Kathy said.
This must be one of the "different attributes" the gatekeeper had mentioned, SG thought. She now had a talent for reading other people's minds through sexual contact. So far, it had worked with oral-genital contact and mouth-to-mouth. She wondered if there were other possibilities.
She and Kathy spent the night exploring. SG learned much about her attractive host. And Kathy learned that this strange and lovely blonde was a sexual superstar.
SG had decided, even before she and Kathy finally fell asleep, that what worked with Kathy was worth trying on Professor Kase. She didn't know why Fate had brought her to this college campus, but she was certain it involved learning about space and time. And the dorky professor was the one to teach her — not slowly and tediously in the classroom, but in an orgasmic flash.
She didn't waste time. The next morning, she went to the administration building and found Dr. Kase's schedule. He would be free that afternoon from 2 o'clock on.
At 2:15, she went to his office. She had bought a special T-shirt from the shop in the student union building, and she wore it under her silk blouse.
She knocked at his door.
"Come in," he called. He sounded irritated.
She opened the door and faced an office with a very bad case of clutter. Books and notebooks were scattered everywhere. One wall consisted of a shiny white board covered with equations written with a black marker.
Kase himself was sitting in an old-fashioned swivel chair with a book and a calculator in his lap.
He looked over his glasses at SG. He gave no sign that he recognized her.
"Can I help you?" he asked, in a tone of voice that said, "Can you disappear quickly?"
"I want to learn everything you know about the relationship between time and space," SG said. "I want to know about time travel."
Kase sighed. "Time travel is impossible," he said. "Teaching you everything I know about time and space may be possible, but I really haven't the time." He smiled in spite of himself. No time to teach about time.
"Okay," said SG, pulling off her blouse to reveal a T-shirt, several sizes too small, with a picture of Einstein and his iconic equation: E=mc². "Let's skip the teaching and get to what I'm really here for. I want to have sex with you. Here. Now."
Kase put the book and calculator on his desk.
"You must really be desperate for a good grade, because I'm not exactly the studly type," he said. "What's worse, I have ethics. I don't fuck students. I don't trade A's for sex."
"I'm not asking for an A," said SG. "I'm not even enrolled in your class, as you discovered yesterday. In fact, I'm not a student at this college."
"So what exactly do you want?"
"I want to have sex with you, here in your office, right now."
He looked at her a long time without speaking. She really was quite lovely. And she filled that T-shirt in a way that gave new meaning to Einstein's theory about the curvature of space.
"I really can't..."
Before he could finish his sentence, SG had wriggled out of her skirt. She wore the skimpiest of bikini bottoms.
"You don't have to take the initiative," she said softly. She moved toward him, and he almost fell over backward in his chair.
"Just relax," she said.
He looked anything but relaxed.
She knelt before him, looked into his eyes and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Really," he said, "this is highly..."
She kissed his chest, then ran her tongue down his belly to his belt line. It was an amazing experience for both of them. Kase had had sex only once before, with a prostitute, and it had been a quick, slam-bam-thank-you-ma'm affair, with no preliminaries. This was deliciously different.
Meanwhile, the instant her lips touched his flesh, SG was overpowered by his memories and speculations. An entire undergraduate semester of hydrology flashed through her in a nanosecond. His recent paper on black holes and singularities was stored in her brain before her tongue reached his navel.
"Let's get those pants off, big boy," she whispered huskily.
He raised himself in the chair, fumbled with his belt and finally slid his pants halfway down his thighs.
She finished the job, pulling down his underpants to reveal a penis of modest dimensions but filled with enthusiasm.
She sucked slowly, sensually, guided by her extensive experience. He moaned and, unsure what to do with his hands, finally placed them on her head. Then he was thrusting upward, into her mouth, and making little sobbing sounds. "Oh, yes, yes, yes," he cried. "Oh, God, yes."
He came in an eruption of equations.
SG was dizzy. Cum dripped from her lips, and numbers whirled through her mind. It was the most exciting sex she had ever had.
Kase lay sprawled in his chair, his head hanging over the back. He looked like a dead man — a dead man with a goofy smile on his face.
Kase wasn't dead, but the experience was so overpowering that he spent the next three days in bed at his apartment, trying to make sense of it — to master it with reason.
SG also needed time to sort out all that she had learned. Kase's sensual and emotional experiences, many going back to early childhood, had been transmitted to her, along with his scientific theorizing. She discovered that he had been an only child, that he had an imaginary playmate named Eustace, and that his puppy, Lex, had been killed by a delivery truck.
She also learned that he had a secret crush on Kathy, that he had written poetry when he was an undergraduate, and that Kathy had discovered some of his poems in an obscure college literary magazine.
What most interested SG, though, was Kase's complex relationship with Dr. Pilger Altezeiten, professor of ancient history and polymath extraordinaire. Dr. Altezeiten was perhaps the university's leading academic figure — certainly the only one with an international reputation as impressive as Kase's.
The two men were very different. Kase was only 32. Altezeiten was over 70. Kase was a rigorous rationalist. Altezeiten had an equally keen mind but was at heart a romantic.
They admired and liked each other but disagreed on a wide range of subjects, not the least of which was the possibility of time travel.
As best SG could understand from what she had learned through her intellectual cock-sucking, Altezeiten was convinced not only that time travel was possible, but that it had already occurred. Beings from the distant past and equally distant future already walked among us.
Kase thought this was New Age rubbish.
SG decided it was time to get it straight from Professor Altezeiten.
He was easy.
Altezeiten was, in fact, a dirty old man. He was delighted when a very attractive young woman rang the doorbell of his condo and asked for a private meeting with him. He was even more delighted, and not the least bit embarrassed or resistant, when she began stripping in front of him — all the while chattering about how much she admired his work and how eager she was to learn from the master.
In seconds, she was completely naked, except for her tennis shoes and her emerald pendant. With European courtliness, he suggested they retire from the entrance hall, where someone outside might see her through the beveled glass on either side of the front door. He led her to his "recreation room."
This room was filled with exercise equipment and chrome and leather devices SG had never seen before.
"You want to learn," he said. "I want to teach. But I am old-fashioned. I am not a democrat when it comes to learning. I must be the master. And that leaves, for you, the role of..."
"Slave?" SG suggested brightly.
"Exactly," said Dr. Altezeiten. "You are a very intelligent student."
In no time at all, SG was bent over a leather bench with her butt raised and exposed, her wrists tied behind her and her head firmly held by two padded arms of a vise.
"As they say nowadays, no pain, no gain," said the professor. With that, he whacked her behind with a slender bamboo cane. It made a surprisingly loud noise, but SG found that the sting was not very painful. In fact, the tingle that followed was quite pleasurable.
"Shall we continue?" he asked.
"By all means," she said. But it was difficult to speak with her head in the vise, and while whipping might be a great turn-on for the good doctor, it didn't put her in direct physical contact with him. How would she learn what she needed to know?
Her speculation was interrupted by a much more vigorous blow, this time from a 12-tail leather flogger. It hurt. The second and third blows hurt even more. She yelped and assumed that once he heard her protest, he would release her. But he seemed to have become too involved to stop.
The blows continued, and so did her cries of pain. These he finally stopped by stuffing a ball-gag into her mouth and tightening the vise on her head.
Her muffled protests excited him even more.
"Yes," he said. "I'm sure it does hurt. But we haven't broken the skin, so I don't think any permanent harm has been done. Let's keep it up, shall we?"
With that, he resumed flogging her. He grew stronger with each blow, as if the aging process was in reverse.
At last, as tears streamed down SG's face, he dropped his pants, put on a condom and shoved his prick into her already well lubricated pussy.
"I see you've been enjoying all this," he said cheerfully. "The vagina speaks truths that the mouth will not utter."
He fucked her with the savagery of a man half his age. SG waited for the great revelation, but it didn't come — even though he did.
He collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath. His dick slowly shrunk, but he was in no hurry to withdraw it.
"Is that all?" SG wondered. She could have broken her bonds at any time but had refrained for fear of sabotaging her experiment. Now it seemed she had put up with pain and indignity for nothing.
He released her slowly and methodically. The ball gag was the last restraint to be removed.
She knelt on the floor — her behind was too sore for sitting — and rubbed her wrists. Altezeiten looked down at her with an expression of concern.
"You seem sad, my dear," he said. "Did I disappoint you?"
"No," she said. "Well, yes, in a way. But not sexually."
"What other way could I have disappointed you but sexually?" he asked, mystified.
SG looked down, embarrassed. Then she screwed up her courage and said, "I was hoping to learn your thinking about time travel."
Altezeiten stroked his chin. "Time travel? I thought from your behavior, you were interested only in fucking. I mean, you came here and stripped and..."
"I know, but it's complicated," SG protested. "The only way I could learn your thoughts is through sex."
"But that is absurd."
"No. It isn't. I've already found in two other cases that I could learn about a person, about his or her experiences and thoughts, by having sex with them. I can't tell you their names, but I found out about the secret love affair of a young woman by having sex with her, and I found out a huge amount about space and time and physics from a teacher."
"My young friend, Dr. Kase?"
"No, I won't tell you their names," SG insisted.
"Well, you don't have to. If the subject that interests you is time travel, then it must be young Justin Kase. No one else on campus is as well qualified, as a scientist, to discuss such matters. But I find all this incredible. Why should I believe you learned anything at all through your sexual encounters, assuming you actually had such encounters?"
"Here's why," said SG, and she launched into a detailed description of a conversation Kase and Altezeiten had had two weeks earlier on whether there were "worm holes" in the cosmos and, if so, could they be used to travel instantaneously from one end of the universe to the other.
"You were so excited about this that you spilled your glass of kir," said SG. "A waitress named Karen cleaned it up. You flirted with her."
"Ah, you must have been sitting near us in the café," said the professor.
"Okay. How about this? Last October, you and Dr. Kase took a sailboat out on the lake. No one else was there. And you got very excited about going back in time, to the Middle Kingdom in Egypt, and learning all their secrets of embalming and mummification. And Dr. Kase laughed and said you had a morbid streak. And you said..."
"Justin told you all this," Altezeiten said sharply.
"No, he told me none of this. He gave me this knowledge unintentionally, when we had sex. I was hoping to learn from you, too. But nothing happened. That's why I look disappointed. I am disappointed."
He began to believe her, in spite of himself. There was something about her. It was almost as though he had known her long ago.
"For the sake of argument, let's assume all you've told me is true — that you somehow absorb knowledge through sex. Why, then, did this process fail with me?"
"I don't know," said SG. "While you were flogging me, I figured there would be no transfer because we weren't in direct contact. But I was sure that, once you penetrated me — well, that there would be a flash of words and images and ideas. The way there was with... with the others."
"Aha! I think I see the problem," cried the professor.
"What is it?"
"I was wearing a condom," he said triumphantly. Then he quickly added, "Not that I mistrusted you, but in this day and age — well, you understand."
"I do," said SG.
She was quiet for a moment, then she said, "All I ask is the chance to give you a blow-job, an unprotected blow-job."
He had never before had a young woman ask permission to suck his dick. He had never even imagined such a situation, and he prided himself on having a very active imagination when it came to things sexual.
"How can I refuse?" he said. "This time, let's go to the bedroom."
She followed him upstairs through rooms filled with dark, antique furniture. The bed, however, was simple and modern: a futon covered with pale blue silk sheets. At the four corners were short, stout wooden posts bolted to the floor. Manacles were attached to each post.
"I will lie on my back," he said. "I want you to attach these restraints, then do whatever you want. Within reason, of course. I am not a young man."
"I will be careful," said SG.
He removed his clothes, folded them and placed them neatly on top of a bureau, next to a small bronze statue. It was an Egyptian figure, of a man with a dog's head. He held a scepter in one hand and a book in his other, clutched to his chest.
"I am naked unto mine enemies — and my friends," Altezeiten said with a smile. For a man his age, he was in good shape, thought SG.
He lay on the futon, and SG secured him.
Then she knelt between his legs. His penis was flaccid, so this would require some work. She leaned forward and rubbed his belly and thighs. Then she began to sing, in a voice she didn't recognize as her own and in a language she had never heard. It was a throaty, sensuous voice, and though she recognized not a single word, she knew it was a song about sexual passion.
This incantation had a powerful effect on Altezeiten's prick, which began to rise, like a cobra rises to the notes of its master's flute.
Altezeiten began to squirm on the futon. It was as though he was in agony — or in the throes of ecstasy.
SG ceased singing and took his prick in her mouth. Words and phrases in strange languages flooded her brain. Images appeared, too, murals and sculpture and great temples and palaces.
"Time travel," she thought. "I want to learn about time travel. Back, I want to go back, to the Middle..." She stopped in mid-thought. Ages? Was it the Middle Ages that Kase and Altezeiten had talked about?
And suddenly she felt herself whirling through darkness, drawn by a force more powerful than gravity, flying to a destination far, far away.
Altezeiten gave a cry of surprise and disappointment. "You're gone! You're gone! You've abandoned me."
He tried to sit up, but was held back by his restraints.
"The lady vanishes," he said to himself. "And I must stay behind, waiting until Betsy comes to clean on Monday morning. Won't she be surprised?" He laughed a deep, hearty laugh, and his eyes glistened with tears.