One-Hour Do-Over

by aroslav

Copyright© 2012 to Elder Road Books

True Sex Story: A witch at a Halloween party in 1984 changed my life when we discovered Daylight Saving Time ended at 2:00 and we had an hour to do it all again. And again. By midnight on Halloween, we'd rung the bell, closed the book, and quenched the candle. We were in love. Mostly a true story with a little creative license.

Caution: This True Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   .

It was 1984, remember? The year Big Brother raised his ugly head and we all laughed at him because we had Macintoshes. I know. Some of you probably don't remember a time when Steve Jobs was only a minor demi-god instead of an ascended deity.

I remember.

My fledgling graphics business was just getting off the ground and I was watching the publishing world change overnight. I was carting film from typesetter to printer when I first saw the billboard screaming, "Test Drive a Mac."

Of course, that's not what this story is about.

This story is about what happened when we went off Daylight Saving Time on that Saturday night before Halloween in 1984.


SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN a real witch for all I knew. She certainly had all the men at the party under a spell. She was blonde, had huge tits, and her black, floor-length dress was slit up the right to her hip and down her front almost to her navel. She'd made it obvious that those tits were swinging free. Especially when she danced.

You could only stare and hope.

That's what happens when you emphasize your assets and diminish your liabilities. Once my eyes had found their way to her face, I was surprised to find she was rather plain-looking. Her nose was a little too large and her eyes set wide-apart. But when she smiled—which was most of the time—her lush full lips and beautiful teeth were all you could see. Assuming you'd managed to keep your eyes that high.

I knew most of the people at the party from my prior association with the various theater groups in town. I'd pretty much quit theater when my graphic design business started to take off and I was seriously considering quitting my day-job, too.

I still did occasional shows, but I was able to pick and choose from the directors that I still wanted to work with. Both of them were at the party. I'd worked on shows with over half the people there tonight and had been at parties with most of the others. The blonde witch was new to me.

For me, the costume party was an excuse to dress in my tux. Tails, actually. I stood just under six feet and 180 with a tightly trimmed beard. At that time, I still had most of my hair and it was pulled back in a pony-tail beneath my top hat. Theater people tend to make the most of any opportunity to wear a costume, but I was a little chagrined that the only time I wore my bib and tucker anymore was as a costume.

My girlfriend—if you can call what we had left that kind of relationship—had chosen a matching ensemble as Victor/Victoria. By default, I became King Marchand. Unfortunately, the costume wasn't working in her favor when stacked up against the blonde witch. Belle was seriously regretting having played down her femininity—especially when it came to attracting the attention of Blake Donovan, our host for the evening. Belle had come to the party intent on seducing him, but like the other men there, he seemed captivated by the witch.

"Fuck the big-tit blonde and get her out of here," Belle growled in my ear. She'd just come up behind me as I was about to renew an old acquaintance with a petite actress I'd once done Plaza Suite with—both the play and the hotel. Research, you know.

"Too much competition?" I asked snidely.

"Just do it."

Once Belle set her mind on something, there was nothing short of a flat-out rejection that could dissuade her. She'd long ago found me easier to manipulate than most of the men she threw herself at. I was really beyond caring.


"I'm going to sleep with Blake tonight," she'd said flatly as we were getting ready for the party. "You'll need to find your own way home."

How on earth did we ever get to this point? Belle was ten years younger than me and I was too stupid five years ago to realize that I was just the first rung on her ladder. When I quit acting and directing—and dragging her into shows with me—her interest suddenly flagged. I'd decided to run my own private experiment several months ago and quit initiating hugs and kisses, just waiting for her to come to me. That was the last time we'd kissed. I realized that for more than a year before that, I'd been the only one to initiate any intimate contact or to ever say "I love you" first.

Now we still lived in the same house, split the bills, argued over what to have for dinner, and slept on opposite sides of the same bed.

The kicker was that we still behaved outwardly like a happy couple. Even at home, we were casual about each other and seldom had an argument more serious than whether the chateaubriand was on her diet. We still undressed and dressed in each other's presence. I still got hard as a rock when I saw her bare tits as she crawled into bed next to me. Then we'd turn our backs to each other and go to sleep.

Lately, she'd become more aggressive about her conquests, having even propositioned my boss at the summer picnic. He was otherwise engaged.

The sum result was that I came to the party looking for someone to go home with.


"And just how do you propose that I manage this feat?" I asked. "It looks to me like she's headed for Blake's bed in about thirty minutes."

"Just follow my lead and get rid of her," Belle said.

She took my hand and led me across the dining room. It had been cleared of all furniture since it was hardwood and was officially the dance floor. We danced close to Blake and the witch, looking like two gay boys in our tuxes.

"Blake! Have you met Jonathon? He just finished A Moon for the Misbegotten at Park Square," Belle smiled sweetly.

"Oh. Hi, Jonathon," Blake said. He gripped my hand warmly. "I saw the show. Nicely done."

I was proud of the fact that I'd delivered a credible performance as Jim Tyrone in the tiny theater. We'd received a good notice and Tess was on my acceptable list of directors from now on.

"This is Lynn," Blake said, introducing us to the blonde witch. "She teaches Theater and English at Southside High. She was in my production of Anything Goes at TRP."

"Oh my god! Was that you with the incredible voice?" I exclaimed.

We had season tickets to TRP because they always seemed to have great singers. I turned to look fully into the eyes of my new conquest and was lost. I've got blue eyes myself, but I'd never looked into eyes so deeply cobalt—so intense and piercing. I think she said something like "thank you," but I couldn't hear past the ringing in my ears. The blood was pounding through my veins as she placed herself in my arms and let me dance her away.

I spared a brief glance over my shoulder at Belle and Blake who walked out of the room hand-in-hand.

That was quick.


Midnight found Lynn and me in a secluded window seat with the party going on unnoticed around us. I was completely captivated by her. We discovered that the spot was quieter than the rest of the house, not being willing to go to a completely secluded room yet. We talked. Oh God! We talked.

And for the life of me, I can't remember a word of the conversation. It seemed like we just poured out our souls to each other, connecting beneath the words and then letting that inner communication take over for us. As long as I looked into her eyes, time was suspended.

I was closer in age with Lynn than with Belle. We both grew up on The Beatles and could recite almost every song lyric. Belle had once commented to me, "No. Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings?" Fuck her. For soft rock/jazz, Lynn and I both liked Donald Fagen in any of his guises. Aja and The Nightfly are still albums that I listen to over and over. Between the two of us we'd seen nearly every play and musical produced in our area over the past five years, but had never worked on one together. Of course, we'd both been working the semi-pro venues and neither of us had auditioned for the professional repertory companies. I was surprised that with a voice like hers she hadn't been recruited.

Somewhere along the line we stopped talking. I was just drinking in the color of her eyes, shocked and excited as they came closer and closer to me. I let my eyelids drift closed as she did when our lips touched.

Everybody has a word for what a first kiss is like. Electric. Breath-taking. Tender. Terrifying. Sensuous. Passionate.

Yes. All of the above.

That first kiss was just lips. No one was trying to force his or her tongue down the other's throat. We weren't trying to pet or get to the next base. We just had our lips softly pressed together, and neither of us was pulling away. I felt her hands wrap around my waist and mine pulled her shoulders toward me until the kiss of our lips was accompanied by the kiss of her breasts against my chest. She was soft and womanly and completely committed to that kiss. The rest of the room dissolved and we were alone in our own little world—a world that consisted entirely of the ten thousand nerve endings in our lips.

"You want to come up for air for a minute?"

We both jerked apart and I turned to find Belle standing behind me next to the window seat. Her neat bow tie was hanging loose and several studs on the formal shirt seemed to be missing. I hoped she had them in a pocket. Those were my studs. Lynn started to pull away, but my arms held her close. I just waited for Belle to say something.

"I assume you have your ride?" she asked. I glanced at Lynn and then nodded. "Great. I'm out of here. Goodnight."

With that, Belle pulled the car keys out of her jacket pocket and left.

That kind of broke the mood as Lynn pulled away a little and looked at me curiously.

"I guess she got what she wanted and is done for the night," I said.

"What did she want?"

"Blake."

"The two-minute wonder?" Lynn laughed. "Bet he didn't manage to hold off until he was in her."

"You're kidding. He's that bad?" I laughed. She nodded then sobered.

"I'm sorry. That was insensitive. Was that your girlfriend?" Lynn asked quietly.

"I guess. We live together."

"And she's okay with this? You were okay with ... that?"

"Let's say we've evolved an open relationship," I answered. "As far as I'm concerned, that's about half a step away from 'we've dissolved a relationship.'"

"You're not married, are you?"

"No, thank God. We just have both our names on the lease. When it's over, we just walk away."

"Then kiss me again."

This kiss was more intense. This kiss let me know that there was something beyond the darkness of my current relationship. It was starting at a Halloween party but it wasn't going to end when the costumes came off.


It was nearly one o'clock when we left the party. Her AMC Eagle was parked out front and we got in.

"This is a lot of car," I said.

"When you work in educational theater, you never know what you'll have to haul," she laughed. "I've put whole sets in this car."

"For a small show, I presume."

"What do you drive?"

"When I get to use it, I drive a little Mazda."

"The rotary engine sports car?" she asked, clearly impressed.

"No. The RX3 sedan. It is a rotary engine, though. Very cutting edge," I joked.

Before she started the car I leaned toward her and kissed her again. A nice thing about her Eagle—its bucket seats had no gap between them and no center console. I slid over so I was right next to her as we kissed. And as we were no longer in the midst of a crowd, the embrace became a little more intense. She didn't flinch when my hand crept up from her waist and cupped one of her full round breasts. We both moaned and her left hand rested on my thigh.

"I don't want this night to end," she said with her lips still brushing mine.

"Nor do I," I answered. "Your place?"

"Um ... roommate. We have an agreement about bringing people in without warning the other. Yours?"

"You've met mine. Unless she was planning to meet someone somewhere, it might be a little crowded."

"She looked disappointed when she left," Lynn said. "I don't want to end our night like that."

We kissed again, lost in each other's touch. A noisy couple shouted their goodbyes from Blake's front porch and we realized how exposed we were, parked along the street out front. She started the car.

"I know a place," she said. "I haven't been there in years, but I'll bet it's still available."

I didn't move over to my side of the seat, but stayed in the middle. She put both hands on the steering wheel as she pulled out of the parking spot and I put my left hand on her thigh. Her slit skirt had fallen open, so my hand was directly on her hose as I stroked up and down her leg. She glanced at me with an evil smile on her lips. She pulled up to a traffic light and as I leaned over to kiss her softly, she pulled her skirt all the way open so it fell to her left side. When she started up from the intersection, I glanced down and saw that she was exposed up as high as the slit skirt would allow. My hand trailed up the inside of her thigh until stroked softly across her cunt and her legs parted further.

"In a few minutes, darlin'," she said. "We're almost there."

We turned off the street down an unlit drive. I didn't recognize exactly where we were since I'd been distracted a bit from where she was driving.

"Where are we?"

"Cedar Lake."

"I thought it was all private property around Cedar."

"Just a few public access points and they aren't marked. Like this one."

"Wait. Is this... ?"

"The nude beach? Yup."

"Damn! It's a little cold for skinny dipping, though."

"That just means there shouldn't be anyone in the parking area. Voila!"

True to her prediction, the four parking spaces at the eastern edge of the lake were empty. The gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car rolled to a stop against a log. We listened to the tick-tick-ticking of the engine cooling. Then all was quiet. There was only moonlight and I found it hard to believe we were still technically in the middle of the city. The moonlight was enough for me to see her turn toward me. Our lips met again, and this time there was no restraint behind the kiss we shared. My left hand was still on her leg, but I reached toward her with my right hand and slid it beneath her dress to cup her tit. The feel of her bare skin beneath my fingers was ten times better than the gentle squeezes I'd given it while we were making out. Her nipple hardened beneath my palm and I flicked it with my thumb.

She bit my lip as her butt came up off the seat and her back stiffened with a gasp. I jerked back, but she grabbed my hand and held it against her breast.

"Sorry," she said, kissing the lip she'd bitten. "My nipples are ... really sensitive. That was so ... like ... almost like touching my clit."

"Okay?"

"Please," she said. "Please continue."

The fingers of her left hand petted my beard as her lips returned to mine. Her right hand slid over my rigid cock and it was my turn to gasp. I squeezed her breast gently, imitating the pulses she was giving my cock through my tux pants. If we kept this up much longer, I'd need to have them cleaned.

I started kissing down her chin, across her jaw, all the way to her ear. From there, I shifted my direction south again, covering as much of her throat with my little kisses as I could. The squeezing of my cock sped up until she gripped tightly as I licked her collar bone all the way to her shoulder, pushing her dress off her shoulder ahead of my tongue. At last I slid my tongue around her areola and up across her nipple.

"Ahh!" she gasped. I thought she was going to go through the roof of the car. She straightened out stiff with her butt lifted so high her pelvis hit the steering wheel.

"Oh sweet fuck! I love that," she moaned as she settled back to the seat panting. "Please, sir, may I have another?" She said it in her best English-accented Oliver Twist voice. I had to grant her wish. TRP had done Oliver! two years ago, but I was sure that was one role a girl with boobs like this would never have been able to pull off. My next attack on her breast was met with much the same response. I'd ever encountered a woman who could come from having her nipples sucked. I was in love.

While I was playing, she managed to get my trousers unzipped. I raised my lips from her boob and kissed her again while I used my saliva as a lubricant to rub around her nipple. Her right tit was still mashed between us and I longed to test its responsiveness. But Lynn had a goal of her own now. She reached beneath the seat and tripped the lever that allowed her seat to slide it back. I duplicated the motion on my side.

She started moving down my body, stripping off my tie and opening my shirt. Her hand worked feverishly on freeing my cock, but I wear briefs and not boxers. There was no way she was going to get my cock through that stupid flap they put in Jockeys. Nothing ever gets through that damn flap when you want it to. Lynn realized this pretty quickly, unbuttoned my suspenders, and opened the waist of my pants.

She was getting a frustrated with how hard it was to get me out of my clothes when I had most of her left side exposed. She pushed me back, unbuttoned my vest, and popped the rest of the studs through my shirt. Now with my chest laid bare to the cold night air, she kissed at my nipples, pressing her bare breast against my abdomen. Both hands dove under the waistband of my briefs. Freed from its confines, my rock-hard shaft was in her hands. It was my turn to gasp and straighten up.


I was married at twenty-one and stayed that way through college, my first job, and my MFA in Acting. My affair with Belle pretty much ended things, though. Patty went her way and I desperately clung to Belle, trying to prove that my infidelity was actually true love.

The thing is that during my marriage—all nine years—I'd never even suggested fellatio to Patty. I must have been the dumbest kid that ever escaped being eaten by his parents. Belle tried to go down on me once, but she had such a strong gag reflex that she didn't get more than the head of my cock in her mouth before she started choking. The lack of reciprocation had never stopped either Belle or Patty from enjoying me giving them oral pleasure, which I was only too happy to do.

But somehow, here I was in my thirties and I'd never really had a blow job. Damn it all to hell! What a waste of twenty years!

My buddy Ron, who seemed to have a new girl every few weeks once turned to me when we were having a beer and commented about his newest conquest. "She's really not much in bed, but she could suck the chrome off a '57 Cadillac." I'd never really understood what that meant until tonight. If you've never seen a '57 Cadillac, suffice it to say that it's got a lot of chrome, and two tits in front that are about the size of Lynn's.


I was ready for maybe a kiss on my prick and a handjob. Even as hot and heavy as we'd been going at it, I really didn't figure we'd fuck tonight. It was our first date. In fact, we hadn't even been on a date together; we just met at a party. In my experience, people didn't just hook up one night.

I sure as hell didn't expect to feel her mouth engulf my entire prick. I doubled over with the sensation, almost trapping her head where it was. My hands came down on her hips and as she continued to bob on my cock, my right hand somehow managed to slide around to the front of her pantyhose. She opened her legs as wide as she could under the steering wheel as I stroked her pussy. I could feel her heat and moisture through the nylon and her moan through my prick.

Then I found the miracle. There was a little hole where the seam of the gusset had come apart. I let my finger work its way inside, enlarging the tear as I went.

I dipped straight into her hot wet cunt. The girl wasn't wearing panties under her hose.

God in heaven! I was finger-fucking a witch who'd turned my cock into her magic wand. I was hyperventilating and there were light flashes shooting across my retinas behind tightly closed eyelids.

My finger eventually found its way to her clit as if self-guided. Lynn redoubled her efforts on my cock, moaning and sending vibrations through it at the same time. I didn't even think about warning her I was about to come. I just started shooting.

It felt like an hour, though I'm sure I couldn't have come for more than thirty or forty seconds. Lynn sucked the last of my cum out of me and threw herself back in the seat gasping for air and gyrating her hips against my questing finger. I leaned over her and grabbed hold of that wonderful nipple with my mouth again and Lynn started coming. I think she went closer to the hour than I did.

Eventually, she grabbed my hand and pulled my solitary digit out of her pantyhose. We sat there in the front seat of her station wagon gasping and clutching each other in an embrace that could crush lesser humans.

"Fucking hell!" she breathed. "That was incredible."

"I'm sorry I was so fast, Lynn. It's been a while."

"Yeah. Me too. Next time, right?" Next time? Oh yes!

"You've bewitched me," I said.

"Speaking of witching, look at the time. God, it's late. It's after two o'clock. I'm supposed to sing in church in the morning."

I looked at the dashboard clock. Only the fact that it had luminous hands made it visible in the dark car. Two-ten. I smiled and reached for the button that would let me twist the hands backward an hour.

"What are you doing?"

"It's not that late," I said. "Daylight Saving Time ended at two. Fall back. We get a one-hour do-over."

"A one-hour do-over? Now that is magic." She kissed me again. "We need a bed."

"I don't have a credit card with me. I wouldn't know where to go even if I did." She kissed me.

"I have a station wagon," she said.

We got out of the car, opened the back doors and let the seats down. She had a sleeping bag and a couple of blankets in the back.

"Were you prepared for this?" I asked.

"My parents drilled it into my head that winter is dangerous and as a single woman I always need to be prepared to survive on my own if I get caught in a snowstorm. October first, the winter supplies go into the back of the car," she said. "Sleeping bag, boots, extra warm clothes, candle, knife, food. I don't think they were anticipating this kind of survival, though."

We laughed and got in the car, closing and locking all the doors. We slipped our shoes off and stretched out on the sleeping bag. There was limited headroom, but we planned to be lying down most of the time anyway.

Lynn's dress, I discovered, was a wrap secured by two buttons. One was on the outside at her right hip. The other fastened the inside panel at her left hip. With both buttons released, I let the dress fall open and looked at the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.


Ron had a thing about describing every woman he'd ever been with in great detail.

"You know, there is just nothing like watching a woman undress in front of you for the first time," he said. "You never know for sure exactly what's under there until the clothes fall away. You get the shirt off and run your hands over those shoulders that you've never seen before. Then she loses the bra and you are faced with God's perfect creation—the boob. It never makes a difference what it looks like. It still sends chills down your spine because it's a boob you've never seen before. You can't wait to get your hands and your mouth on it."

Yeah, Ron. It's been a long time, but I understand now.

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