Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, .
Desc: Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jake Johnson had been busting his ass at the steel mill in lone star Texas to build up a little cash for a hunting trip. When he discovered he could go bear hunting in Alaska for less than half what it cost to fly to Africa for a lion hunt. He bought a new pickup truck and a camper trailer and looked for the ALCAN Highway. One thing he didn't plan on was the temporal and spatial relocations that poped up, and they just spiced up the whole deal.
Finally, it was time to get going on this trip. I'd been working my way up to it for three years. Working all the doubles I could get at Lone Star Steel to pay for my equipment and supplies, and guns. You know, firearms. It was a hunting trip of course.
At first, I'd thought about going on a "canned" hunting trip somewhere in Africa, but the turmoil over there in several places put me out of the mood for it. Hell, who wants to go hunting where you might end up in a war zone? Besides, I didn't want to go shoot a mangy lion or some shit like that. And that's another thing. Who wants the hassle of trying to get your weapons shipped to Africa? I nearly laughed every time I thought about walking up to an airline check in with a couple of rifles and a pair of heavy duty .44 Magnum revolvers.
Hell, for the price of an African Lion Hunt I could buy a new four-wheel drive pickup and drive to Alaska for a bear hunt. Not only that, but I wouldn't have to fuck with hiring a bunch of porters to haul all the crap I'd need to take along so I could eat along the way. I'd also get out of hunting in front of a bunch of game beaters.
Sure, I'd saved up for years for this hunt, but damn. I could go for a grizzly bear for around ten thousand bucks, for an African lion the price was twenty-five thousand, and that didn't even count getting to Africa. When I really thought about it I took the advice of a movie title. "Out of Africa", as in, "Stay, Out of Africa."
Saving up for an African Big Game Hunt was a fool's errand for me. Just the thought of how many sixteen-hour shifts I'd have to work sealed the deal. I was going bear hunting and that was that.
Hell, a new pickup and a trip up the AlCAN Highway sounded a hell of a lot cheaper to me. I even bought a small Airstream camper. Mostly, I bought it because I wanted one anyway, but also because it would be cheaper for this trip.
You'd think the guide places would shy away from a guy trying to save money on a big hunt, but it wasn't the case. Sure, they'd hit you with a try at selling you an airline ticket so you could fly in, be driven around, and then fly out later.
Once they realized you weren't going for that shit though they'd switch you to talk to someone who knew what was what and the person would work with you. They'd even check out google maps for you and send you a URL for a saved version of a map right to their front door.
When I got the web address for the saved map I was a little let down. I didn't see one fucking thing about the AlCAN Highway. Most of the traveling was through the US and Canada but none of it was on anything named the AlCAN Highway. Maybe I just didn't know what it was called.
In a way it made sense. No one in Alaska knew how to find the "Goat Shack Road" down here in Texas. Never mind that it was easily the roughest trail through the woods anywhere near International Paper's holdings around their Texarkana Milll. It was six miles of hell on earth even with a four wheel drive vehicle equipped with giant Monster Mudder tires and a Warn winch on the front bumper.
Also, when I'd asked about the best rifle I could buy for hunting Grizzly the guy simply told me to buy the biggest one I could afford and he told me to make sure it was semi-automatic. I had a feeling he'd have said fully automatic if he thought there was a chance in hell I could get hold of one.
I'd wanted a Barrett M821A for a couple of years now anyway so it was what I bought. I also bought another Ruger Superblackhawk to match the one I already had, a Forty-four Magnum, natch. As long as I was at it I ordered an ATN Yukon 2.5x50 night vision scope for the Barrett. I knew damned well I wasn't going to be hunting bear after dark, but as long as I was paying so much I went for the night-vision capability too.
When I got hold of my camper I spent three days loading my crap into it. I threw in every firearm I owned and bought the extras I've already mentioned. I had to order a special reloading press for the Barrett's long as a well rope cartridge dies and of course the powder was oddball, not to mention trying to find the .50 caliber bullets. At least the new RCBS press I bought would be able to do the job for all the other cartridges I wanted to reload too. It did look a little stupid for reloading the .44 and .357 mag stuff though. Hell, even the .35 Remington cases looked tiny in the damned thing. Still, .35 Remington was nothing to sneeze at as far as knockdown power was concerned.
Finally I was set to go, almost. My last stop in town, after picking up my truck from the mechanic who'd added the 150 gallon auxiliary fuel tank, was at Brown's tire shop where I changed the dipshit road tires for a pair of spur grips for light mud hole duty and I also bought four aluminum 12" wide wheels and a set of 36" tall Monster Mudders for putting on later. Monster Mudders weren't the best for highway use. Hell, I'd wear out a set of them on the five thousand mile, one way, trip to Alaska.
I packed up my hunting clothes, my sleeping bag, and plenty of food, filled up all my fuel tanks, and hit the road. I knew I was in for one hell of a drive, but I could handle it. Six years as an Over the Road truck driver left me confident I could find any place with a road to it, sooner or later.
Seventy-two hours later, give or take, I pulled up to the guide place and was I ever a surprise for the people there. They had me down for the trip all right, but they had already sent the guide they had reserved for me off with someone else since I hadn't called them from the airport to come and pick me up.
Strangely I 'd had a premonition some shit like this was going to come up and so I played back the recording I'd made of my last phone call with them and it was easy to hear we'd gone over my arrival time and method over the phone.
After they admitted their foul up they said they could send me out with another guide. I told them not to bother and asked if they could direct me to a good lawyer in town.
"What for?" the headman asked.
"What for? So I can start the lawsuit. You told me yourself Jenkins was your best guide, told me he'd be here waiting for me to show up and then sent him off with someone else while I was driving six thousand miles to get here." I said.
"I'm real sorry mister," he said.
"Not half as sorry as you're gonna be when my lawyer gets through with you. I ain't some fat cat off on a lark. I'm a steelworker for God's sake. I had to work 116 double shifts to pay for this trip and now you've ruined it because you thought I'd be late. Hell, if I remember correctly I paid in advance so you already had your money."
The guy was getting a little sympathy out of me with his hangdog look until his wife started in on his ass. She gave him a serious cussing for pulling this shit and she didn't hold back from going on about how she'd told him he was fucking up when he did it. Turns out he'd sent Jenkins out with one of his bankers.
"Ma'am, would you mind telling me the name of the banker and the name of the bank? I'll just have the lawyer sue him and the bank too." I said.
Hell, she wrote it all down for me. She even told me the name of a good lawyer and said she'd be right behind me for a divorce.
"He pulls this shit all the time and then wonders why he can't get any repeat customers like the other guides, but will he listen to me? Take a wild guess. I'll tell the lawyer I'll testify too. That damned banker knew all along he was taking your guide. Jim even let him have him for half his normal price," she said.
"Sarah, you're going to ruin me," he said, trying the hangdog look again.
"Nope, you've ruined yourself. When it comes to divorce court I'm gonna tell them you've been fucking your customers so hard you ain't even got time to give me any anymore," Sarah said.
"You'd better give this man his money back, if he'll take it," she said.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about a simple refund. I'll just call Visa and they'll reverse the charge since you didn't provide the services you promised. I'll let the lawyer take care of that for me though," I said.
Just then a man came in and Jim's face lit up.
"Jenkins, what are you doing back so soon?" he asked the guide in question.
"Your dumbass banker friend shot himself in the foot from walking around with his shotgun ready to fire on a rocky trail. It was the biggest damned mess I've ever seen. You got any idea what double ought buckshot will do to your foot when it's fired from six inches away? Even the paramedic that came in the helicopter said he was going to lose at least one foot and maybe both of them." Bill Jenkins said.
"Thank God, you're just in time to take Mr. Johnson on his Bear hunt," Jim said.
"If you think I'm going out on another hunt right away you've got your wires crossed. I know I was supposed to take Mr. Johnson out today and I told you that when you sent me out with your fucking idiot banker. I told you I was taking two weeks off after the banker and now it is after the banker and I'm taking two weeks off.
"I'm sorry if it has you fouled up Mr. Johnson, but he's the one who screwed your pooch, not Me." he said.
"But Bill, he's gonna sue us if you don't take him out," Jim said.
"What do you mean, us, paleface? I didn't promise him a damned thing and you're the one who made the deal with both of us. You're on your own this time, dumbass," Bill Jenkins said.
"That's it, you're fired, Jenkins," Jim said.
"Fine with me. Just last week I got in enough time to draw unemployment, and in case you've forgotten I made you put my time off after the banker's trip in writing. Just try to tell the unemployment office you fired me for cause and see how far it gets you," Bill Jenkins said.
"Damn man, I ought to thank you for this education, but I still think I'll sue you for damages. I will say this for you though, you're the biggest fuckup I've ever seen," I said, and walked out of the office right behind Bill Jenkins. He was waiting for me.
"Look Mister, I'm real sorry about this, but I have to take off for a few days anyway. Seeing that banker blow his own damned foot off just got to Me." he said.
"I understand and I pity you for working for Jim," I said.
"Well, like he said, I ain't working for him any longer and it is turning out to be a better day already. What are you going to do now, fly back to your job?" he asked.
"Nope. I already took my two weeks vacation from the steel mill and I've got to get some fun out of this fuckup. Would you mind telling me where we were going to hunt?" I asked.
"No, I'll be glad to. Do you have a cell phone?" he asked.
"Yep, sure do. Why?" I asked.
"So you can call 911 if you get in a fix by yourself. Better yet, I know a sort of guide you can get to go with you. She's an Inuit woman, and she knows that territory. She was raised there. She can find you a bear to shoot and she can even gut it and skin it out for you. She don't do much guide work since she don't even own a pickup or a car, but I see you have your own rig and she'll do a good job riding along with you. At least you'd have someone to look out for you if you get hurt," he said.
Would you introduce me to her?" I asked.
"Sure, just follow me," he said.
It was about twenty miles and I'll swear we drove up to a fucking Igloo. He tapped his horn when we got there and a woman came out of it. Hell, woman nothing, it looked to be a girl of about sixteen. I know what you're thinking. A fat faced creature, but she wasn't. She was a little on the thin side and since it was in the spring and a warm day she had on jeans and a cowboy shirt,
The first things I noticed were the bulges beneath the twin pockets. They were substantial.
"Howdy, Bill," she said, as she came to where we were standing.
Hello Chika. This is Jake Johnson with me. Jim, down at the guide place, fucked him over. I was supposed to take him out starting today, but Jim sent me out three days ago with his banker and that asshole shot himself in the foot with double ought buckshot from his twelve gauge. I had to call in a medevac chopper and the whole deal has me off my feed. He blew one foot damned nearly completely off and fucked the other one up pretty bad.
"Anyway, Mr. Johnson wants to kill a bear and I had a good place staked out already. Would you consider taking him out?"
"Sure, but does he really want to hunt or does he want to fuck? It don't matter much either way, but the fucking cost extra," she said.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say I just wanted to hunt, but I asked myself why I'd want to say a stupid thing like that. She was pretty as a picture and she obviously had nice titties.
"Could we do both?" I asked.
"We sure can, Jake. I get a hundred a day for guiding, or a hundred a day for camping out and fucking. If you want to do both I'll go for a hundred and a half a day," she said.
"When can we leave?" I asked.
"We can go anytime you want to, but have you ever done it in an Igloo?" she asked.
"No, I've never," I said.
"See you around, Bill. I'll take it from here," Chika told him and then took my hand and led me to the Igloo's entrance. Hell, I could hardly hit my knees fast enough to follow her inside.
I was a little surprised when we got in there. I'd expected the place to be at least a little bit cold, but it wasn't. The floor was covered completely, with bearskins and soon enough she started throwing her clothes around too.
I was nearly salivating over what she revealed and she was egging me on by wiggling and jiggling lovely parts in my face. Soon enough she was buck-naked and urging me to get my clothes off.
"Well come on. You got your show and now I want mine. I'm not really a full time whore, but I do make the offer I made you to men who look handsome, and you qualify. You're a big something too. About six two and two thirty aren't you?" she asked.
"That's me, exactly," I said, as I pushed my jeans and drawers off.
"Oh, nice. You've got a big one," she said, reaching out to take hold of my already hard dick.
Unlike previous "pay for pussy" women I'd been with, Chika wasn't a bit ashamed to kiss me and she sent her tongue into my mouth just as she pressed her big titties into my chest. It was so unexpected and felt so good I was nearly trembling right away.
Before quick could get ready she was on her back on the Bearskins with her legs spread and pulling me toward her by her grip on my pride and joy. Chika was not only warm inside; she was hot, and slippery. I shoved it up her and she moaned low in her throat and showed me she had an internal grip to beat the band.
I only thought I was going to give her a pounding though. Her ass felt like it was on ball bearings with the way she pumped it up and back against my pole. I started counting backwards from a thousand to keep my mind off the urges I was already feeling, but it was a lost cause and I knew it. My only hope of getting her off before I checked out was the fickle finger of fate, or up her ass, as it were.
She wasn't expecting the trick and it set her off right away. She clawed my back like she meant it and the thought of it did the trick for me. I'd always wondered myself why men felt the compelling urge to saw logs after a rousing fuck, but I didn't wonder much right now as I settled my head down between her magnificent titties and then did my best to roll my weight off her. I didn't even have the strength left for that and I know damned well I was asleep before my well-used dick even deflated.