“When time-turning, you must be careful not to run into your other self. Wizards who do that have met with awful things.” That was the warning Professor had given me when she handed me the time-turner, and for most of the fall term, I’d been very careful. But now it was December. I’d been double-studying, two-timing classes, and making every possible educational advantage of the time-turner hanging around my neck. But I was tired. Emotionally exhausted. I needed something else, something more, all right, I needed someone.
Even with the extra time I had, I knew I didn’t have the time for a romantic entanglement. But what I did have was a pass to the restricted section in the library. And there, I learned a bit more about this magical device that let me relive hours at a time. It seems there was nothing inherently bad about a wizard meeting her younger self; it was merely the shock of being unprepared for the meeting. I, however, was the most prepared witch I knew. I could handle it.
And so I plotted a little romantic interlude.
It was late one night. I’d been studying on my bed, the curtains tightly closed and sound-proofed to maintain my concentration. My brain was ready to take a break, but my body was still raring to go. I stripped off my nightgown, laid back against the pillows, and stroked my breasts, thinking some more hands would be nice. Then I let my fingers work their way lower, brushing the little thatch of hair between my legs, stroking at my lower lips, and feeling the dampness well up as my little nub came out to play. “Yes,” I said to myself, “more hands would be nice. Indeed, another mouth, one that could reach, might be even better.”
I licked my fingers and rubbed my nipple, then put my other hand in my mouth, and stroked my pussy. Then back into my mouth, tasting myself, and back to my pussy. It felt good. Real good. I was getting hotter, but I was still all alone, dreaming of being with someone else.
Someone who looked like me.
“I’ve got a time-turner,” I thought. “Why couldn’t that someone else be me?”
And that thought got me even hotter.
Then I felt the bed bounce. I opened my eyes, and looked at myself.
The other me was a little more disheveled, her hair was kind of damp and unkempt, and her eyes were filled with unsated lust. But I knew it was me, me from the future.
“How far?” I asked.
“One turn,” she said. “An hour and a half. Enough time to drive you to the heights of aching desire, and enough time to finally, finally satisfy me.”
She fell on me, and we kissed, deep and long. Her mouth tasted odd. It took me a moment to place it: my pussy. Her mouth tasted like my pussy.
She pulled back, stared into my eyes, and said, “You trust me.” It wasn’t a question. I knew she’d just experienced what I was about to. I didn’t even have to answer. Holding my hands, she stretched my arms out above my head, then reached down to nip at my neck, and at my nipples.
“For the next hour,” she growled, “you belong to me. I own your body, and I’m going to play it like a musical instrument. Your body is going to sing, and bring me incredible pleasure.”
“And what about my own pleasure,” I asked.
“In due time,” she replied.
It only got me hotter.
She turned me over, spooning me for a minute, and kissed the back of my neck, underneath my hair. I shivered. It was wonderful. She ran her hands down my body, over my breasts—tweaking my nipples briefly—and on down over my belly. She stroked my labia, flicked my clit once, and then pushed away to rub my back and knead my ass.
I needed to do more. I rolled back to face her. I kissed the tip of her nose, her mouth, the hollow of her neck, and down to her breast, where I suckled, licking one cone while fondling the other. I didn’t have to hear the moans in her throat to know I was doing it exactly as she liked: it was exactly the way I wanted it done to me. Then I continued kissing lower, teasing her belly button with my tongue, and then down even lower.
I pulled back just before reaching her pussy, realizing that I was about to kiss a pussy for the first time. Sure, I knew it was just masturbation: she was me, identical in every way, except an hour and a half older. She knew what was coming, while I could only imagine. But still, there was something that held me back.
She opened her eyes, leered at me, and said, “Come on, you belong to me. I’ve already done this, and I can absolutely guarantee you’re going to enjoy it. You know you want to, and I won’t tell anybody,” we both laughed at that. She reached for my head, stroked my ears, and then pushed my head down between her legs.
I knew the aroma. The taste was only a little different than I was used to, because I was getting it directly, rather than on my fingers. And it was good.
She moaned, she thrashed, she held my head tight to her.
I licked her lips, darted my tongue inside, and then sucked her clit into my mouth. I reach up with my fingers, stroking her lips while I licked them, gently parting them to get my tongue in deeper, and it was wonderful. I buried my face in her, getting almost as hot as I could hear her.
She groaned, squeezed her thighs around my head, and shuddered. “Oh, gods, I’ve been waiting two hours for that!” she screamed.
I think she may have passed out. Eventually, she relaxed her thighs, but continued to hold my head. “Keep going, love,” she said. So I did.
She came again, and then a third time, and then she relaxed.
“Oh, my,” she said. “All for me, and I haven’t done a thing for you. Lie back, and let me do something for you.”
I was aching to come, so I did what she said.
“Close your eyes,” she said. And I did.
I felt her rummaging on the bed, and then heard her cast a body-binder spell. I couldn’t move. I was aching for an orgasm, my face covered with my future-self’s juices, and I couldn’t move.
Then I felt her moving on my body. She pinched my nipples, breathed on my pussy, stroked me lightly, tweaked my clit, nibbled my ear lobes, rubbed her pussy on my face. I was getting hotter and hotter, closer and closer to coming—
And she stopped.
“I know exactly how close you are to coming, my dear. It’s not going to happen.”
I groaned inside, as my body cooled down from the peak, just a little. Then she was back to the teasing and tempting and pushing, and again I was climbing higher and again she stopped just this close.
I came back down a bit, down to a simmer from a roiling boil.
She released me from the body-binder, and I frowned at her.
“Don’t be like that,” she said. “Remember, I know exactly what you’re going through, and you can believe me when I tell you, it’s all going to be worth it.”
She made me go down on her again, and I attacked her pussy with a vengeance. When she came, I conjured four cuffs, and tied her spread-eagled to the bed. Forget the body-binder spell: I wanted her to struggle against my hold on her. Magic’s great, but sometimes, the non-magical does the job better. Then I dove right back in, and drove her to even higher heights, until she screamed at me to stop, that she couldn’t come any more.
I rose up, leered down at her, and fingered to her one last orgasm.
As her body relaxed, I released to cuffs.
“Now it’s my turn,” I said.
“Yes, dear. That was wonderful, and it is now definitely your turn. But I’m exhausted, and it’s been an hour and a half.”
I realized she was right. She wouldn’t be any good at making me cum, now, but that was okay. I kissed her, and said, “Sleep well. I know I’ll need it later.”
I turned the time-turner once, and it was an hour and a half earlier.
#
The younger version of me was lying there, stroking herself, looking—I have to admit—pretty damn good. Bushy, unmanageable hair, to be sure, but I realized we (well, I) had a great body.
She looked at me with instant recognition. “How far?” she asked.
“One turn,” I said. “An hour and a half. Enough time to drive you to the heights of aching desire, and enough time to finally, finally satisfy me.”
I pounced on her, kissing her hard. She tasted sweet, almost fresh.
Then I pulled back, stared into her eyes, and said, “You trust me.” It was more of a command than a question. I grabbed her hands, and stretched her arms out above her head. She looked great like that: breasts standing up, nipples at attention, eyes half-closed in lust. I nibbled on her neck, and then her nipples.
“For the next hour,” I said lustily, “you belong to me. I own your body, and I’m going to play it like a musical instrument. Your body is going to sing, and bring me incredible pleasure.”
“And what about my own pleasure,” she asked.
“In due time,” I replied, thinking I’d been the plaything for so long, now it was my turn to get exactly what I wanted.
I flipped her over, and spooned her for a minute, feeling her relaxing into my control. I stroked her body, enjoying the feel of breasts in my hands. Then I fondled her pussy, flicked her clit, and then pushed away. A brief back rub lead straight to kneading my ass, and she was moaning for me.
She turned over, and started kissing me. My nose, my mouth, my neck, and then her lips trailed down to my breast. When she got there, it felt like she was trying to swallow my whole breast, licking and sucking me, while using both her hands on my other breast. I shivered, and moaned. I faded out a little, and then noticed her tongue was tickling my belly button, and then moving down past my hips.
Then, suddenly, she stopped, and lifted up.
I looked at her: my innocent little younger self.“Come on,” I said, “you belong to me. I’ve already done this, and I can absolutely guarantee you’re going to enjoy it. You know you want to, and I won’t tell anybody.” I stroked her ears, and then grabbed them and gently pushed her head down between my legs.
She hesitated only briefly, and then she was making love to me with her mouth. For an inexperienced pussy licker, she was very good. She licked and teased, stroked and nibbled my nether lips and clit, and drove her tongue inside me, and it was heaven. I squeezed my thighs, holding her head in place, and screamed as I came.
I didn’t quite pass out, but I just lay there for a while, drifting in post-orgasmic bliss.
Eventually, I relaxed my thighs, releasing her head only a little.“Keep going, love,” I said.
She brought me to another orgasm, and then another, and it felt like all my muscles had gone limp.
When I finally opened my eyes, I looked at her. “Oh, my,” I said. “All for me, and I haven’t done a thing for you. Lie back, and let me do something for you.” She did. “Close your eyes,” I told her.
I reached for my wand, and then quietly cast a body-binder spell. She froze in place, immobile, her face glistening with my juices. She looked just like a living sex doll, one I couldn’t wait to play with.
I stroked her unmoving body, pinched her nipples, looked closely at her pussy and stroked it. Then I pinched her clit, nibbled on her ears, and realized this was the time to use her. I climbed up and rubbed my pussy all over her face. I was getting close to coming myself, but I remembered that she, too, was very close. And it wasn’t time for her orgasm.
I stopped.
“I know exactly how close you are to coming, my dear. It’s not going to happen.”
I let her cool down for a bit, just looking at her body and rubbing my hands on my own. There’s definitely a difference, feeling only one side of the stroking versus feeling it on both sides. As much as I enjoyed playing with myself, it’s definitely a lot more fun playing with someone else.
Eventually, I couldn’t hold off, and went back to stroking and fondling and playing with her body, driving her closer and closer to orgasm. But once again, I knew exactly when to stop, to keep her teetering on the edge.
This was fun. But I was building back up myself. I needed more, and I wanted her to give it to me.
Eventually, I released the body-binder.
She looked up at me, and pouted.
“Don’t be like that,” I said. “Remember, I know exactly what you’re going through, and you can believe me when I tell you, it’s all going to be worth it.”
I could see acquiescence in her eyes, and guided her head back between my legs. After a pause—she was arguing with herself, but in the end, she knew she had to give in and do what I commanded—she attacked her pussy with gusto.
I came, hard, and flopped back onto the bed, ready to let myself sleep. Instead, I was suddenly stretched out. Cuffs on my ankles and wrists kept me spread-eagled on the bed. I’d almost forgotten this was coming.
No rest for the wicked, I thought. Her mouth and hands were right back on my pussy, pushing me to several more orgasms, until I cried out, “No more. Stop! I can’t come any more.”
She smirked at me, a knowing smile, and fingered me to yet another orgasm. It was almost painful, yet the cum was great.
Eventually, she untied me.
“Now it’s my turn,” she said. She was disheveled, sweaty, and I knew she was aching to come.
“Yes, dear. That was wonderful, and it is now definitely your turn. But I’m exhausted, and it’s been an hour and a half.”
She kissed me, and said, “Sleep well. I know I’ll need it later.”
She turned the time-turner once, and disappeared.
I wanted to get up, to clean myself up a bit, but I couldn’t even summon the strength to straighten out the bed. I just pulled the comforter over me, waved my wand at the light, and fell into the deepest, most restful sleep I’d had in a long time: the blissful sleep of the sexually sated.
Tied in to Love, Iron Rodd’s first (non-H.P.) collection of loving bondage tales, is now available in print and electronic editions from most major online retailers.
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08.03.14