Chapter 1: Dinner With the President
Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Mult, Consensual, Magic, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Humor, Extra Sensory Perception, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Spanking, Light Bond, Orgy, Harem, Interracial, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Petting, Fisting, .
Desc: Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 1: Dinner With the President - Continuing the story of Wendy and David.
"Grab on to me, girls!"
I wound the watch ... a lot. Ok, ok, I admit I panicked. You try staying calm and aloof when there's a maniac, determined to see you to your death, shooting holes in a perfectly good aircraft ... your aircraft.
Now, we're standing on a thin column of slightly dirty air 15 thousand feet tall. 'Slightly dirty' is a relative term. The air around the column is as pristine and clear as only air that's never had an airplane dumping carbon or a coal fired power plant spewing fly-ash in it, can be.
That doesn't make 'slightly dirty' air any more solid, gravity still attracts. Oh, right ... gravity.
Kimberly and Rachael let go of me, grabbed the 'D' ring, pulled the cords from the packs, the pilot chutes deployed, dragging the main chutes tied to them aloft.
There' was an audible 'pop'... 'pop' and both girls were jerked away from Wendy and me like a giant hand had grabbed them and stopped their fall. In split seconds they were tiny dark dots gently swinging under ladies handkerchief parachutes.
Wendy thought, 'Will you get on with it?'
'Oh, right, gravity.' I thought back to her.
I reached for my 'D' ring and dropped the watch ... oops ... not good. I made a swipe at it but missed. It's tiny and I have a lot more air resistance due to my larger area ... Hmmm, I wonder?
Using the formula g = 9.8 m/s² (meters per second squared; which might be thought of as "meters per second, per second", or 32 ft/s² as "feet per second per second"), approximately.
Generally, in Earth's atmosphere, this means all results using the formula will be quite inaccurate after only 5 seconds of fall (at which time an object's velocity will be a little less than the vacuum value of 49 m/s (9.8 m/s² × 5 s), due to air resistance).
For a body, me, encountering a thick atmosphere like the Earth's near sea level, 15 thousand is near sea level, terminal velocity is reached exponentially between 8 and 15 seconds, after which a steady velocity of very approximately 100 m/s is maintain...
'What are you doing, you idiot?' Wendy wondered.
'I'm trying to figure out how fast I have to fall to catch the watch.' I reasonably replied.
'Catch it? You can't even see it.'
'I most certainly can ... it's right ther ... oh.'
'If you fuck this up!' Wendy irrationally thought. 'I'm going to kill you!'
'You won't have to. Gravity will take ... oh right.'
'Pull the fucking "D" ring.'
"pop" "pop" ... thud! "oof" I think we were a tad close to the ground when we pulled our ripcords.
Wendy landed about 30 feet from me. She unbuckled, unstrapped, unharnessed and dumped her 'chute. I had done the same.
She ran to me, I threw wide my arms to embrace her...
WHACK! She hit me?
SLAP! She did it again?
WHAP! WHAP! Twice?
WHAPPITY! WHAPPITY! WHAP! WHAP!
"OW? I'll 'OW' your ass! Don't interrupt me, I'm busy. Where was I? Oh..."
KICK! Oh God, She remembered her feet. That had me dancing on one foot.
KICK! I fell down.
KICK! She's no gentleman ... kicking a man when he's down!
THUMP! She jumped on me!
SLAP! SLAP! Not the face!
Oh good, she's running down.
THUD! THUD! THUD! Someone taught this wild woman to box!
"YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU-YOU. YOU!"
She helped me to my feet, threw her arms around me, crying and laughing, hugging and squeezing.
"I love you. What would I do without you? I'd be lost" And then she gathered herself up and started whaling on me again. "You complete idiot!" ... interspersed with kicks and slaps and...
"LOOK OUT BELOW! I CAN'T STEER THIS DAMN THING!"
We looked up ... Kim and Rachael were headed right for us. We ran. They missed ... PLOP! BIG cloud of dust, PLOP! 'nother cloud. We ran back. The hugging and squeezing commenced.
It is a known psychological fact that women respond to survivorship in a sexual manner. A brush with unsuccessful death makes them horny as hell.
The hugging and squeezing turned to hugging, squeezing and kissing.
The hugging, squeezing and kissing had tongue added...
and there were clothes flying and bras popping and panties slicking down long shapely legs and tongues licking dick and pussy and pussy fucking dick and dick fucking doggy and Wendy deep throating me and Kim sucking Wendy slit and Rache sucking Kim slit and me nibbling Rache clit and sperm and pussy juice decorating the air, bodies and ground ... there were possible positions tried and impossible positions succeeded and every combination there of ... for hours and hours. The natives standing at the edge of the dust cloud started fucking and generally copying what we were doing. There was a huge orgy going on and on and on and so forth!
We finally recovered clothes and decorum.
Rachael and Kim suddenly recalled who had the dick and who owned that dick and the apologizing commenced. There was "Sorry" this, "Sorry" that and "Sorry" the other, with crying and bawling and hugging and squeezing and Wendy saying "It's OK" and "I understand" and "No need to..." all going on continuously and concurrently and I couldn't understand half of it. I turned to walk away and most of the natives bowed down and prostrated themselves ... when did they get here?
One chiefly looking big guy was still standing and began yelling and shaking his fist and shaking a big feathered rattle gourd at me ... another not quite so big guy, all in feathers and paint, started waving a painted stick with a rattlesnake head on the tip in front of my face ... he reached down into a pouch he had slung from a strap and hauled out a handful of some kind of pepper powder, I could smell it from where I was standing. He was getting ready, working himself up to throw that powder in my face.
I reached out and broke his stick in two. The look on his face was priceless.
The big guy stopped shaking his rattle. From the grounded natives came a collective gasp. I grabbed the pepper tossers hand and flung the pepper in rattle-shakers face. I shoved the sharp end of his broken stick in pepper tossers belly, reached in his pepper bag and rubbed pepper in the hole from the stick ... instant convulsions and death.
Mr. rattle gourd shaker was trying to wipe his eyes of the pepper. he took a big breath and pepper dust got inhaled along with the air. Instant convulsions and a terrible death. He coughed his lungs out ... literally...
Wow! I don't think I want to try that stuff on my food!
The remaining natives tried to get closer to the ground. I got my canteen (I might be an idiot but I'm a prepared idiot.) off my belt and rinsed my hands of the remaining pepper and took a big drink. I was low on body fluids ... remember? Another big combined gasp from the natives. This is looking like a movie set from one of the many B grade Pacific Island movies I saw at the drive-in with Wendy when we were teenagers in high school ... if it weren't for the two contorted dead bodies I'd be looking for the camera and director. That made it all too real.
Wendy and the girls have finally noticed what's been going on ... about time, don't you think?
Speaking of time ... where's my watch? We're going to need it if we're going to make it on time for the Kennedy's dinner.
I looked up at the sky like I was expecting to see my watch falling and I noticed something that took me a minute to recognize and a few more minutes to believe. The girls noticed my prolonged skyward stare and looked up.
Etched across the sky was a smoke trail that went over the ridge to the east. This ain't happening. Nope ... IMPOSSIBLE! Can not be real! We had never had an object we weren't touching come with us! Even then we were limited to size and weight. I ain't believing it. Besides, we were orgy driven for hours ... weren't we?
'Weren't we?' I suggested to Wendy.
'I certainly thought so, ' she replied.
'Me too, ' thought Rachael.
'Yeah, ' sighed Kim. 'It was wonderful.'
'We'd better go see.' Wendy thought.
We all turned to the east and started walking.
We came to the edge of a fairly steep cliff. Down in the valley below was the plane ... from here it looked undamaged ... except for the natives trying to kill it with spears.
Wendy hauled out her .32 LadySmith and took an impossible shot straight out from the cliff at one of spear wielders ... I'll be go to hell if one of them didn't fall down. It had to be half a mile. Eventually, we figured it out. It was a Long way down and it really wasn't more than 400 yards from the cliff to the unconscious body. The thin air of Colorado helped a lot. As it was the bullet just bounced off the thick skulled spear stabber's head and knocked him out.
Still and all, a shot to tell your grandchildren about.
Now we had the formerly prostrated natives following us at a distance until the shot. That sent them back to the woods on the ridge.
We were looking for a way down when a little girl, no more than five, ran up to Rachael and held up her arms in the universal language of UP ... pick me UP. She did. Rachael hugged her and the little girl squirmed, Rache let her down.
She ran to each girl and was picked up, hugged, and put down.
This caused a murmur of approval and we were approached ... carefully, mind you ... but approached.
The girl ran into the crowd and tugged a pretty young woman, maybe 18, out and pulled her forward. Mother, I bet.
The little girl made formal introductions between the women and ran to me and held her arms up. I swung her up on my shoulders, she grabbed my ears and started guiding me to a trail that led down to the valley. The ear guiding was a big hit with her mother. Before we were half way down the women were great friends, known each other for years, even though they had no common language.
We arrived at the plane. My passenger wanted down. She ran over to the thick skulled spear stabber's unconscious body and started kicking and slapping him ... Not one of her favorite people ... I caught on to that right away. She worked him over but good. As much as a 5 year old can work over someone three times her height and 150 pounds heavier.
She was having a good time so I let her have at it. I examined the plane. Yup ... Curtiss-Wright C46 Commando. Looked just like the one we flew from Davis Monthan, except it didn't have the first hole ... the engine wasn't missing a cylinder ... the wings were fine. No scorch marks from burning fuel.
This ain't right! I pulled up the door latch and let down the steps and was just ready to climb in when I heard "Blam!" and a thud. I turned around and mister spear stabber was bleeding slightly from a hole between his eyes and Kim had the little girl in her arms saying soothing things to her. The girls mom was on the ground with the spear protruding from her belly. She was dying and she knew it.
We knew it too. So did everybody else. The dismemberment began. Those chert knives cut that son of a bitch into tiny little pieces.
Someone started a fire with a fire-bow and the others gathered wood and burned that bastard to ashes.
If there was a next great adventure, he wasn't going. The mother died watching his burning with a smile on her face. The rest picked her up and carried her over to the cliff.
It was full of holes. There were some holes that had rocks piled in the openings. The folks pushed her in a vacant, high up hole, and took Mr. Hole in his head's belongings and put everything in with her.
They piled rocks ... no they - Fitted - rocks in the hole and sealed it with mud soaked grasses. Every body looked at me.
I raised my arms to the sky and started to sing. Nobody but us knew what I was singing so it didn't matter to them what it was but it mattered to me. The girls started singing with the second line, in harmony.
How sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost,
But now I'm found.
Was blind but now I see.
We all started crying and carrying on. The people noticed the tears and moved to collect them off our cheeks. They flung them against the tomb.
I wonder what kind of mythology we'd started. Something special I bet.
First we floated from the sky. (they must be gods.)
A skywoman beat up on a sky man. (no woman touches a man.)
The sky people had great sex with several partners. (nothing new here.)
They introduced amazing sex practices. (lots new here ... sex and the women enjoyed it.)
The skyman killed a great chief using the magic of the shaman. (chiefs are all powerful.)
He killed a great shaman with his own magic stick. (the skypeople possess Greater magic.)
The skywoman knocked down a hated male from a great distance. (women can use weapons.)
The skywomen befriended a female child of the tribe. (Female children have value.)
A skywoman killed the hated male. (women can kill an abusive male.)
The skypeople mourned the loss of a woman of the tribe. (women have a special place with the gods.)
Heady stuff and we've only been here a half a day!