First Love "20, 19, 18..." The countdown had begun. Andrew's erection was already pushing up the slick green nylon of his jump suit and he absentmindedly rubbed it through the cloth. Petal had been with-holding herself from him for a month now and he was very much in need. He sighed, settled back into the control seat, took a deep breath and tried to relax. Gradually he felt the swelling subside, the hard knot in his stomach loosen. He opened his eyes. "12, 11, 10..." droned the metallic voice from the panel in front of him and he thought of the terrible fight Petal had provoked that night last week when he had left for the Centre to begin his final training... "You never told me about leaving a week early," screamed the harridan, legs apart, hands on hips, her lank blond hair in disorder, her mouth pulled down in a savage pout. Her shirt was open down the front and her big tits half visible, a deliberate maneuver to provoke him all the more. "But dear..." began Andrew, feeling a familiar tingle in his groin. "Don't you Dear me, you worm!" said his beloved. Her lip trembled, her eyes grew misty with tears and with devastating suddenness her voice took on a dangerous whine. "You don't love me any more. That's what it is! You just want to stuff your dick in me!" She sniffed. "I should never have married you! I should have listened to Joyce!" Joyce was Petal's older sister, a bitter woman whom Andrew had once courted and who detested him and attacked him whenever and however she could. She was also a sadist and almost criminally violent. Compared to Joyce, Petal was sweetness itself. "Aw, don't say that," moaned Andrew, placing a hand on her arm, but wanting to rip that shirt right off and have his way then and there. "Don't you touch me!" shrieked Petal, slapping the hand away and moving with a skill born of long practice from tears back to anger, her breasts now fully exposed and jigging around. "But you always complain about me being in the way!" gabbled Andrew, desperately. Silence greeted this. Not the silence of defeat, but that of disdain for an argument so patently hypocritical as not to merit an answer. "Well?" snapped Andrew, angry now and his own anger. Petal sniffed loudly and looked pointedly out the window at their neighbor in his kitchen, as if he indeed were a man and far better than the miserable specimen opposite her. "Answer me, dammit!" screamed Andrew, his nerves raw. Petal rose suddenly and stamped out of the room and he had one last glimpse of those wonderful tits in profile and moaned. "Damn!" muttered Andrew, knowing that he had lost again. A few minutes later he saw the woman in the house next door, in the kitchen, for the window had no curtains. She was talking to the fellow who lived there, a middle aged builder, who now reached out and stroked one of the woman's exposed breasts. She said something and immediately pulled off her shirt and bent and stepped out of her jeans. Quite naked, she bent over the table, side on to Andrew in his own kitchen, and the fellow stood behind her, dropped his trousers and slammed into her, making those big tits swing in time to his pumping. Fascinated, Andrew watched, as the woman's screams of arousal sounded clearly across the gap, then he could stand no more and unzipped and exposed himself then began vigorously pumping his now rigid organ. The couple opposite became even more frenzied, and then Andrew was coming and spurting a white gout of semen onto the floor and feeling somehow a total failure. "3, 2, 1, Zero!" said the voice, with a faint note of triumph as it uttered the last number. There was a jolt, a snap, a discontinuity that penetrated Andrew's very bones and he blacked out. When he awoke he was immediately aware of a change. Everything was tilted slightly to the left and the light that came through the ports was a rich greenish yellow, and moved, fluttered. Andrew shook his head and focused his eyes. Instead of the grim concrete walls of the Ops Room he saw leaves, big veined leaves. And sunlight, slanting down. Vague shapes that could have been tree trunks lurked in the shadows and a brilliantly colored beetle the size of his hand sauntered across a little mulch-strewn clearing in front of the machine. Andrew gaped, hardly daring to believe the evidence of his eyes. "I've done it!" he whispered tensely, and so he had. He had gone back one hundred million years into the past. "A small step for me, a great step for Mankind!" he misquoted and then giggled. Suddenly he felt fine and, for the first time in his life, he knew that he was completely free. Then he sobered. He had only a few hours in the past and he was supposed to observe, to speak into the tape, and to record his observations. The camera built into the hull would record the outside environment well enough, for it was set on continuous running, but it had a weakness. It was a machine and could not become curious nor have feelings, and that was why it had been decided to send a human observer. He accordingly switched on the recording mike and, in the best manner of a foreign correspondent, began. "Andrew Martin here, reporting from..." He paused and peered at the board, "...the year 96,500,045 BC. That is, if I can trust these dials!" He gave a short laugh then winced. That little remark would certainly cost him a reprimand. He continued then for a short time, giving details about the world outside and about his own thoughts and feelings. At the end of it all he switched off the mike. Two more hours to go. He settled back in the seat and frowned. Then he looked through the right hand port, then through the left, then through the front one, and as he stared morosely out at the jungle a thought arose unbidden in his skull, a thought that, in the normal course of life at the Centre would never have even dared to exist. Andrew eyed the big red lever next to him. It was attached to a small oval door at his side and was marked "Emergency Use Only." "Exit," said the display light over the door. "No!" he told himself as firmly as possible. The door, in any case, would surely be connected to some sort of recording device. "Oh well," he thought. "Just to fill in the time, I may as well check that the door is properly wired." A good scientist should always know his machine. Reconnecting the recording device so that the opening of the door would not break the current was the work of a moment. Breathing hard, Andrew pulled down on the red lever, watching the light marked "Door" on his control panel with great interest but it stayed safely dead. With his heart pounding he next swung the door open and stared out at the trees, the leaves, the soil. A fresh, pungent, compost smell, the smell of a turned garden bed, flowed in past him. He quickly scrambled out and pushed the door loosely back into place, hoping that the change in cabin temperature had not been recorded. He now glanced back at the capsule. Like a giant enamel egg it sat among the trees. The round hole that marked the camera lens was not visible, but this was as he had planned it. No one must know of his venture. They had told him time and time again of the dangers of tampering with the past. Now, how long did he have? He looked at his watch and found that he had one hour and 50 minutes left. Drawing a deep breath of the fresh air, he stretched luxuriously and sighed then knelt and scooped up a handful of soil, crumbled it in his fingers, held it up and breathed in its fragrance. He picked a leaf, rubbed it against his cheek, reveling in its smooth, cool surface. He looked up into the tops of the trees, where the distant sky showed blue and clean, so different from the sky of his own era. Suddenly he wanted to roll naked in this world and without thinking he undid his overalls, kicked off his boots and stripped. He lay back on the leaves, breathing in the rich oxygen of the air and feeling fine. He suddenly noticed that he was erect. Then he noticed that he was not alone. A throaty little laugh echoed round the clearing, and he looked up, suddenly tense. He saw the woman standing quietly under a nearby tree, gazing at him in a mixture of wonder and interest. She was quite small, about chest height, with long, pointed breasts and broad hips, her skin a light tan and her hair was black and cascaded down over her shoulders. Her pubic hair was a lush bush and her eyes were dark brown and very serious, though a little smile still played on her lips. She was also not supposed to exist in this era at all! Andrew knew he must do something, anything, to stop her from running away, but he could think of nothing. He stood up and as he did so, he became aware that his erection was now rock hard. But the woman did not run away. Instead she looked pointedly at his tool, grinned more broadly, and swayed forward, her breasts gently moving. She stood in front of him and said something in flowing, liquid sounds. She pointed at his genitals and began playing with her nipples, making them stand up quite hard. Now Andrew, quite out of control, began to pump his organ with one hand, making it fully rigid, and reaching out with the other to the woman. She became serious again and swayed forward, pushed his hand from his dick and began to squeeze it. She said something gently to him and then he was holding her in his arms and she was rubbing herself against his naked body. She knelt and looked at the large erection she held in her hand, inspecting it all over, then she drooled copiously on its tip and began to suck on it, taking it deep in her mouth, at the same time cupping his balls and then grabbing his buttocks and clawing at them. She paused, pulled her mouth form his penis and looked up into his face, her eyes glistening with excitement and arousal. The glans of his penis was fully engorged, swollen, its rim erect, the hole gaping and wet with precum. "Let's fuck," grunted Andrew and the little woman, understanding the tone if not the meaning, immediately fell on all fours, presenting to him. Her slit was a generous one and quite wet with her mucus. He knelt and poked into her delightfully tight little hole and eased into her, pushed past her tightness to her little cry of pain and then, poking the very back of her womb, he pulled back, then in again, going faster and faster to her cries of pleasure as she quickly climaxed, going into spasm around him. He bucked forward, sending her sprawling and shooting his load into her hot little prehistoric womb. He pulled out and they lay on the leaves of the forest floor for a while, her head on his arm as she gazed and gazed at him, her hand playing with his now flaccid tool. "Liked that did you?" he murmured, and she nuzzled against his neck, giving a little moan of satisfaction, and of arousal, for she now began to squeeze and pump his tool till it began to get erect again. Then she jumped up, making those wonderful tits shake, and pulled him to his feet. She began to lead him off into the forest. "Mustn't get lost," he muttered feverishly," but she took no notice. Soon they were so far away from the capsule that they could no longer see it and the woman now turned and tugged once on his penis, then, seeing that it was fully erect, she quickly faced a giant tree trunk, placed her hands against its rough grey park and stuck her buttocks out towards him, exposing her engorged and quite large piss lips. They were already dripping with her woman juice. He himself at this sight suddenly wanted her so badly that helots not time in but rammed into her, this time with a little more ease, and began a long, slow pleasuring, to the sound of her little cries of delight. Then she fell silent. Something, he felt, was wrong, but he kept going and came in two great spurts of his semen in her hot little body. Now he realized that she had gone quite rigid and was looking to her left. Slowly he turned his own head, and froze. Something the size of a dining room table was standing directly beside them. Something with a grey scaly skin and a big mouth. The mouth in question opened at this point and hissed loudly, revealing a startlingly blue tongue. "Shit!" said Andrew, his heart sinking. He pulled out of the woman and, still rampant and dripping, sidled to the left but the Thing, no amateur at this sort of game, sidled off too. It hissed again, daring Andrew to run. Out of the corner of his eye Andrew saw the girl glide off among the trees and hoped she would make safety. "Go away, ya mongrel!" said Andrew, weakly. The Thing swayed slightly on its heavy legs and continued to look at Andrew with great interest. He on his part looked desperately around but saw nothing he could throw. The ground, deep in its millennial mulch, offered no stone, no rock, no pebble. Andrew, still eyeing his new friend, did however spot an old log and cautiously reached for the nearest end, lifting it slowly. As he did so, however, the large hairy growth on the other end began to walk towards his hand. Andrew screamed and hurled the log, and the giant spider, as far as possible from him. The Thing, taking this to be an invitation to join in, surged forward with frightening speed, mouth agape and hundreds of needle-sharp teeth glistening. Before it could engulf the time traveler, however, a long column of grey flesh, equipped with an equally impressive set of dentures, flashed in front of the doomed gaze of the human and the original Thing was dragged, roaring in frustration, to the side. There was a crunching sound and the roaring stopped, to be replaced by a sort of wet slurping. Andrew heard no more for, as if of their own volition, his legs had surged into action, over-riding his idiot brain, and had carried him far from the scene of the attack. When he stopped to draw breath, neither of the huge animals was in sight, but then neither was the capsule. Certain that he had no hope, he stumbled forward. Finally, unbelievably, he found it, and climbed with desperate speed into his overalls, picking up his wrist watch and putting it on. It was almost time to depart! Screaming hysterically he threw himself at the door, wrenched it open and slumped into his seat. "5, 4, 3..." said the voice from the speaker. The door! He had not shut the door! But even as he leaned over and pulled at it the universe snapped like a giant elastic band and he blacked out once more. His first thought when he came to was to check the door and to his relief he found it shut. Outside, in the grey Ops Room, the white-coated staff were milling around the display panels along the walls and a small group, headed by Sanders, was cautiously approaching the capsule. No one suspected his adventure and if any of the technicians noted the fragments of leaf mulch on the capsule's floor, they made no comment. Technicians were trained to obey orders and not to ask questions and for this Andrew was profoundly grateful. Debriefing procedures took the rest of the day but Andrew was able to go home that evening. His health would be monitored for weeks to come, but that was all. As far as the Project was concerned, his part had ended and other Chrononauts would now take his place in the capsule. The sun was setting as Andrew turned the key in his front door. He looked the gathering night and shivered as he thought of his close encounter with the giant lizard, then he stepped inside. Petal was clattering around in the kitchen and filled with a certain trepidation at her presence he shuffled into the room. "I'm back, dear." he said, cautiously. "Oh good," she cooed, and turned to him. She quickly turned down the stove and came to him. "I can't wait to get this in me after all that time!" she added, putting a hand over his crutch and squeezing. Then she pulled him into the bedroom, where they both stripped in haste and where she made love in a most athletic way. The next morning when Andrew awoke, he discovered that Joyce lived with them now, and that she too had become quite biddable and was an even more exciting partner in bed than Petal. Petal had already risen and gone to work and Andrew, having the day off, lay idly in bed, thinking of his prehistoric woman. He began to play with himself, and was beginning to lengthen when he heard steps outside the bedroom. "Petal?" He called out, wondering what had brought her back so soon. But another woman now walked into the bedroom. "Joyce!" said Andrew in a strangled tone. He quickly pulled his hand from under the covers and stared at her as though seeing a ghost. She was wearing a light nylon dressing gown loosely tied at the waist and he could see her large cleavage quite clearly. She smiled at him, a little frown of puzzlement on her large face. ""It's only me," she said. "Thought I might give the returning hero something to wake him up." So saying she walked to the bed and pulled the blankets off, looked at his erection and grinned in satisfaction."Oh good," she said, pulling at the sash around her waist and in one fluid movement shrugging off her garment. Andrew suddenly remembered their courting days, and in particular one evening when they had been lying in the tall grass by the river and she had let him go the whole way. He remembered the moonlight on those big pendulous tits and her generous hips, her full belly and the feel of her large cunt as it sucked him in. He grunted to her now and she straddled him with her heavy thighs and grabbed his now rigid organ, positioned it, and sank down, engulfing him fully. She closed her eyes and began hefting her tits as she slid slowly up and down. Her face was big, strong jawed, her hair was short and mouse colored and curly and she had small blue eyes. An ugly woman in normal surroundings. She also had very large teeth, so that you feared she might bite you, but not now. Instead the whole thing turned Andrew on even more and he began bucking up into her. "Oh yes," she moaned, then, after they had continued like this for some time and she judged him ready, she pulled off him and lay back next to him, her knees raised and apart. "Come on," she grunted. "Finish me off." He fell on her and began slamming into her as she began bucking up and crying out in a long wail of climax, her mouth open and drooling, her eyes open and staring at him. He looked back into them. "I'm going to fuck you, slut, fuck you stupid," he grunted. "Yes, yes, oh yes, fuck me like a fat slut! Root me and root me mate!" He sped up, tightened his buttocks and shot his load into her big womb. Later he discovered that the norm was now for women to be like this and that somehow, as it were, their genes had been altered, making them much more like that little woman in the past. The important result was that Andrew never again had to walk round stiff and frustrated, for even in the office there was now a pretty little secretary whose normal secretarial work alternated with that of being the Office Helpful, as they called her, and this side of her job consisted in being on hand for any of the male staff who might want to mount her, or might simply need hand relief. She was small and dark and had large tits and reminded Andrew strangely of his prehistoric lover and he poked her frequently in the first couple of weeks of his return,. Not that Andrew had much cause to use her after that first period, in this most perfect of all worlds, for now all women seemed to welcome any advance, and just a glance and a nod to a nubile woman in the train who took your fancy was enough, or perhaps a smile at the matron beside you, and a hand on her thigh. If she did not feel like playing the two-backed beast then, another woman might have seen the exchange and would offer her services. She would then usually follow you into the many little booths that dotted the city, where she was happy to welcome you onto her broad belly. Andrew did not know how all this had happened and was wise enough not to make enquiries at the Centre.