A day in the life of David Williams Part 1

“Good evening. My name is David Williams. I wonder if I might have a word in private?”

She looked at me disbelievingly, as well she should.

“You’re not the David Williams I know… knew!”

“Actually I am but it’s complicated and perfectly simple at the same time. A contradiction I know but that’s life I’m afraid.”

I received the hoped for reaction to ‘that’s life’ and proceeded swiftly. “Maybe we could walk down by the river? Sit on the bench and not feed the ducks while I try to explain?”

She responded to the walk by the river and not feeding the ducks with a swift glance into my eyes. She stood, silent and clearly thinking things through. One of the many traits I so loved about her.

“I’ll get my coat. You will take the route we always took to the river. On the way you will prove to me that you are the David Williams I knew. If you are successful we shall sit on the bench and not feed the ducks. If you are unsuccessful then I shall continue walking and you can find your own way to wherever you are going, clear?”

It was perfectly clear and much more than I expected. She closed the door and I waited outside for some minutes. She eventually emerged.

“Sorry, I have been telling my neighbour where I’m going and that I going with a man who should be in his early twenties but looks as if he’s in his sixties. Just in case.”

“A wise move, sixties would be nice, try seventies. At least I knew you weren’t making a run for it through the back gate… I know there isn’t one.”

She gave me another surprised look and we headed down the garden path. The path wasn’t wide enough to walk side by side so I led the way and held the gate open for her. Again she gave me that look of surprise. As we stepped onto the pavement I held out my hand. Her hand moved towards mine then stopped. She let it drop to her side.

“I’ll need convincing. Get started, you’ve got about ten minutes unless you get us lost.”

To get to the river we could walk straight down the road to the bridge and turn left or right. A matter of a few minutes, even on a busy day. We’d never walked that way, not on one of our ‘walk let’s talk’ walks. Shopping was a different matter. Our route was through the old town. As we walked I set about trying to convince her of my identity.

‘We met two years ago tomorrow. That is important, please remember that. A mutual friend’s wedding at St. Mary’s church. You wore a beautiful summer blue sky dress to just above your knees and a very wide brimmed matching hat with matching blue shoes. I later discovered that your underwear also matched, perfectly. We got talking and quickly discovered that we lived close, less than half a mile apart. You were going to take the bus home. I was going to drive my hot hatch, lowered suspension, wide wheels and a race tuned engine. I offered a lift, you accepted. You crawled into the bucket seat and said…” I waited. She said nothing. ‘… how the hell am I expected to get out of this?’ I replied? …. she said not a word. … ‘I’d be more than happy to lift you out and carry you anywhere you desire when the time comes’.

We could have used the main roads all the way but where was the fun in that? I took the country roads and I scared the living daylights out of you. You squealed and laughed with excitement. You said you’d wet your panties. I suggested that you take them off and we could dry them at mine so you didn’t return home from a wedding with wet knickers.

You told me to slow down. I did. You unclipped your seat belt, lifted your bum, pulled your dress up showing me that you were wearing stockings not tights unlike all the other women at the wedding, including the bride! I commented ‘why on earth would a bride wear tights on her wedding day? The garter photo would look terrible! You replied…’ I waited again, … you said she was a prude with no sense of adventure. You slid your panties down and off, showed me the wet patch then put them in the cubby hole that pretended to be a glove box. You left your skirt up around your waist for the rest of the drive.’

She slipped her hand into the crook of my arm. I squeezed it against my body quickly then relaxed.

‘Your place or mine, I asked. ‘Yours’ she replied, ‘why?’ ‘Because you’ve got nosy neighbours’. She squeezed my arm. ‘You’re doing alright so far, keep going. Left or right here?’

Right would have been the sensible route but would have missed out the little cobbled alleyway with the overhanging houses. I led her to the left and pointed out the blue plaque on the wall as we entered the alley.

‘I lifted you out of the seat and threw you over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift. You pummelled my back with your fists calling me a ‘big, bloody oaf’ and telling me to put you down this instant. As you were laughing fit to bust I ignored you and carried you up three flights of stairs to my scruffy little bed-sit. I dumped you onto the bed. ‘Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?’ I asked. You rolled back and … we made love all night. The best night I’ve ever had with a girl. With hindsight I now realise it probably wasn’t so good for you. I apologise.’

“You missed out a bit! Didn’t the real David Williams tell you what I answered to your question?”

“You mean ‘something hot and strong that women like in bed?’ then you opened your legs and reminded me that you were wearing stockings and no panties, they were still in my car.”

“Yeah, that’s true but we didn’t make love all night did we? We fucked, like rabbits and just so the record’s straight it was pretty damn good. One of the reasons I kept you, if you are you, in bed the following morning. What time did we get up?”

“Just before two in the afternoon. You said that you were hungry but we didn’t need to waste time getting dressed. I made cheese and onion sandwiches with a tomato each. You complained.”

“Well what do you expect?… a cheese and onion sandwich? I ask you!”

“Sunday afternoon and I wasn’t expecting to entertain anybody in the foreseeable future when I went shopping. So, we could have got dressed and wandered around trying to find somewhere to eat. Would you have preferred that?”

“No, I wouldn’t and it was a very nice cheese and onion sandwich, by the way.”

“Thank you. We went back to bed and you stayed the night. In the morning you told me to ‘buy some proper food’ if I wanted you to stay Monday night. You returned to your bed-sit, changed and went to work. I shopped on the way home from work. You turned up with a suitcase full of essentials. I cooked shepherd’s pie. Apparently you quite enjoyed it. We had an early night and made love. I admit it was a bit frantic at times but I insist that we made love. We settled into a routine with you going to yours when your landlord was due to collect the rent. You made yourself scarce when my landlord was due. He would have doubled my rent if he knew there were two of us all the time.

We’d been together about six weeks when I received a letter from a girl I’d met when I was away at Uni. She was leaving her husband and could she stay with me until she found a job in the city. I showed it to you. You said that as long as I actually slept with you she could sleep in the spare bed and I could fuck her now and again if she wanted it.”

“Because if you fucked her then came to me you’d last even longer!” I’m not daft y’know. What happened to Jenny?”

“Jenny’s name was Joan. She’d given my address as her temporary address to the local Dole office. Her husband tracked her down. The guy on the ground floor answered the door, realised that Joan was still up in my room, with me and told him that he knew nothing but he’d ask the guy upstairs. Joan hid under the bed in case her husband demanded entry but Rob told him that she’d only stayed a few days and then left as she’d found somewhere more suitable. That evening she moved into your bed-sit and I visited her twice a week until she found work and moved on.”

Her hand slid down my arm and into mine.

“Now tell me something David wouldn’t have told anybody!” she demanded.

I had to think about that. I’d never told anybody anything about my love/lust life but she didn’t know that.

“You offered to suck my cock but warned me that you’d never done it before. A girlfriend of yours had and the guy had cum in her mouth. She was promptly sick. You threatened to throw up on my side of the bed if I so much as dribbled into your mouth. I told you when I was getting close. You continued. I told you three more times and you just went faster and harder. I tried to pull my cock out but you wouldn’t let me and I shot my load down your throat.”

“If you hadn’t tried so hard to pull out I’d have taken you out and finished you off by hand but you wanted to do the right thing. That really got to me so I decided I’d do the right thing. Wasn’t too bad actually.”

“We celebrated the first anniversary of our meeting with a Chinese in the restaurant in the town centre. You had sweet and sour chicken with plain rice and lychees to follow. I had the same but for the rice. I had egg fried rice. We shared a carafe of water. We went there for your birthday in September and mine in March. We also went for Christmas because neither of us wanted over cooked turkey with under cooked roast potatoes and boiled to death Brussels sprouts. We spent all of Christmas day in bed, fucking each other’s brains out and making soft and tender love. Boxing Day was spent walking along the river and around the park.

Something a little more mundane? That locket around your neck. I brought it for you to celebrate our first year together. The miniature inside is two squiggly lines. We both know it is us, in profile, about to kiss. You are looking up at me coz you’re a short arse and I’m looking down, coz I’m lofty. We also know that we were naked when I took dozens of photos with my motor-drive Nikon to be sure to capture the shot I needed to create those squiggly lines. Is the photo still in there?”

She gave me a look that said ‘of course it is Numskull!’ Which she reinforced with…

“Of course it is Numskull! I walked out on you, I didn’t stop loving you!”

My turn to give her a funny look.

“Yeah! Sounds bloody stupid doesn’t it? That’s because I’m bloody stupid.”

Reaching into my pocket I pulled out my wallet and extracted a business card size laminated photograph.

“Recognise this? It’s the photograph I used to make the image in your locket,” I turned it over, “this is the image in your locket at it’s original size. Now, how can I prove I’m from the next century?” I pulled out a £5 note and handed it to her.

“Feel it! Try and tear it in half. This is my bus pass, issued to over sixty fives. Even got my photo on it.”

Having failed to tear the note and taking a long, hard look at my bus pass she looked at me, totally confused.

“Three months ago, in your time I came home from work. You weren’t home. I waited all night expecting that you’d gone out with your mates. In the morning you still weren’t home. I realised nothing of yours was in the cupboards. I went to yours, somebody else was the tenant, you’d given notice a month previously. Your friends had no idea where you were. I realised that your leaving wasn’t a spur of the moment thing but I waited, staying in my bed-sit. I only left for work, and essentials. There was no sign of you anywhere, I moved on.”

We’d reached the bench where we wouldn’t feed the ducks. She sat and looked up at me, staring straight into my eyes.

“You asked me to marry you… twice. I turned you down both times. I wasn’t ready to marry and I didn’t want to loose you by turning you down for a third time. Instead of trying to explain I chickened out and ran for it! The girl in my bed-sit was a friend, we swapped bed-sits for a while. After a couple of weeks we swapped back. I didn’t want to come crawling back to you but I did want to be somewhere you might think of looking again. Sorry. … how come you now look about sixty and I’m twenty two? You’ve travelled back in time? How?”

“Like I said, it’s complicated and simple. That’s the tricky bit.”

“That clinches it, complicated, simple and tricky all in one mouthful! You’re definitely my David. Try simple and we can explore the complicated and tricky if necessary.”

“Simple?… I’ve travelled back in time to today, the day before the second celebration of the day we met. As we had split up this meeting couldn’t have happened and tomorrow you will have no memory of it. When I leave I shall return to this day in my time. You will have to take the long way. It’s not so bad, I’ve done it myself.” I chuckled. “when you wake tomorrow morning you will have little or no recollection of this meeting. If any it will seem to have been a dream or a nightmare depending on your current feelings. If you have nightmares then I apologise and promise they will fade quickly…”

“And if they are pleasant dreams?”

“They will persist for as long as you wish. Your future will continue exactly as it does, without any change or alteration. Just as mine did. On tomorrow’s date in my time our futures could coincide because my tomorrow has yet to happen and obviously yours, in my time, is years away.

I cannot change either the future nor the past, so I had to be here today and I cannot see you again, in the same context, until my tomorrow. You have to build your future without any interference from me. I’ve already built mine.”

“OK, I think we can stick with the ‘simple’ explanation for now. Where does the reality leave us?”

I pulled a pad of Post-It notes from my pocket and a pencil. I wrote details on the top post-it.

“On tomorrow’s date, in my time, at noon, I shall be at this location. These are my contact details, should you desire to be there but if, for any reason you cannot, you will be able to contact me. If, and I stress if, you wish to be there also I shall be very pleased to see you. For me it’s tomorrow, for you it’s a lifetime.”

I held up the Post-it for her to see. She reached out. I moved it away.

“These little scraps of paper haven’t been invented yet. You’ll have to memorise it.”

“Memorise it? For over fifty years? You are kidding me!”

“The reality is that you won’t need to memorise it. You won’t have any memory until this day and this time in my time because that is when I showed it to you, in my time.”

“But it’s gobbledegook.”

“Welcome to an early glimpse of the twenty first century. What would you like to do now?”

“You need to be back in your own time by midnight? How long does it take? How long have we got… time to say goodbye properly?” she giggled.

I took her into my arms and we kissed like the lovers we had been.

“C’mon, time’s a wasting,” she declared abruptly, “we can take the quickest way home, just this once.”

She almost dragged me to the bridge such was her pace. She stopped, suddenly and turned to face me, a pained look on her face.

“Suppose I don’t live until your time? I could get run over by a bus tomorrow!”

“You won’t. You are going to meet me in a pub, remember? Thought you had a good memory!”

“I mean sometime between now and then, Bonehead! Anything could happen.”

“You just weren’t listening were you? Numskull! I travelled back in our past from our possible future. You are here, we’ve kissed so that proves it. If you didn’t exist in my possible future you wouldn’t be here for me today, would you?”

I wasn’t upset to be called ‘Bonehead’ in fact I was delighted, ‘Numskull’ and ‘Bonehead’ were our terms of endearment back in the day.

“You didn’t mention that!”

“You asked for simple.”

“Race yer!”

She was waiting at the gate when I eventually arrived.

“Well you certainly run like a sixty year old!” she teased.

“Would you rather I exhausted myself chasing you or totally exhausted myself making you wriggle and squirm?”

She led the way into her bed-sit.

For those of you not familiar cheap accommodation away from the prying eyes of loving parents a bed-sit is a shabby room equipped, I use the term loosely, with a bed, a table and chair, two if you’re lucky and somewhere to prepare a meal and wash up after. Toilet facilities are shared. If you are very lucky there could be a toilet facility on each floor otherwise you all shared a single bathroom and got used to queuing with your neighbours while waiting for your turn.

I was lucky in that I had two beds, both single and two chairs. I also had the good fortune to be charged a lot more as there was only one of me. On the plus side I had a bathroom facility on my floor which is why the love of my entire life spent most of her time in my bed-sit rather than the pair of us in hers. She did have a slightly bigger bed though… not that we wanted to sleep further apart, you understand?

“You used to love watching me undress… has that changed? Err, over the years?”

“Absolutely not!”

Don’t get too excited dear reader, we’re not talking ‘Dance of the Seven Veils’ strip tease here, think more of a little boy sneaking downstairs early Christmas morning to open his presents before his parents wake up. Of course she did do the obligatory little girl party trick of removing her bra without displaying any bare flesh whatsoever. She turned away from me and started to undo the buttons of her blouse. I stepped quietly to one side a little and saw her smile reflected in the mirror on the door of her hanging robe just to the left of the Baby Belling on her bedside table.

With the buttons all undone her cleavage was visible but not her beautiful breasts. Sliding her hands carefully into the space she tenderly cupped a breast in each hand and started to massage in the way that all real women do after releasing the big girls from their day of confinement.

“Oh no you don’t young lady, that’s my job. It’s written!”

She looked at my reflection in the mirror.

“Where’s it written?” she laughed.

“In the treatise pertaining to sexual actions wot I wrote tomorrow,” I replied paraphrasing Ernie Wise, “It says quite clearly… ‘When releasing her puppies from their daily confinement, whilst in the company of a man, said puppies must to offered to said man for the purpose of restoring circulation.’ Last time I looked I was still a man. So restoring circulation to your puppies is my responsibility. Says so!”

“Definitely can’t argue with a paper of learning written decades in my future can I?” she asked with a big smile, “no peeking though,” she added as she carefully backed up into my waiting arms.

I slid my hands between her upper arms and her torso and cupped her beautiful breasts. Each overflowed in my big hands but I didn’t complain, more than a handful was never too much in my opinion.

“Oi! You’re looking!”

“No I’m not! Can’t can I? You’re facing away from me?”

“You’re looking in the mirror.”

“That’s not us!”

“Tis!”

“Tisn’t. Look I’ll demonstrate.”

I rolled her left nipple between finger and thumb quite forcibly. She moaned her pleasure as I knew she would.

“Which nip am I marmalising?”

“My left.”

“Which nip is he marmalising?”

“Her right. Silly me, I’m sorry, do carry on. No need to rush,” she laughed.

I didn’t rush at all. Remaining totally focussed on her left beautiful breast I moved easily between terrorising the nipple to gently caressing the outer swellings before tenderly cupping the glorious fullness and stroking my finger lovingly over the quivering flesh. She capitulated before me.

“Her left tit is feeling left out,” she giggled, “will you just listen to me? I’m as daft as you now!”

“I’m not daft, I’ve got a beautiful, half naked woman in my arms and two hands full of her delicious breasts. Would you like to show the girl opposite how to undo her skirt?”

“In a minute, my right boob needs some attention and so does her left tit. You’ve got a busy few minutes ahead.”

For the next five glorious minutes I played with and teased her fabulous boobs. I even mauled them a little, just to show I hadn’t forgotten what she liked entirely. I could have continued for a long time but she decided to move things on. Placing both hands on the waist band of her skirt she started to move it around until the zip and button were at the front. We both watched the girl in the mirror undo the button, take the zip slider carefully between finger and thumb and slide it down.

The skirt didn’t fall easily to the floor being trapped between her perfect bottom and the swelling in the front of my trousers.

“He’s obviously got a stiff cock just like you,” she teased as she moved her bottom away from my cock.

As she moved so the skirt around the girl opposite slid gracefully down her fabulous legs and pooled neatly at her feet.

“Oh dear! Looks as if she shaved quickly with cold water as well!”

“You shaved? In ten minutes… and left your knickers off to go for a walk with a man you didn’t know? I thought you were talking to your neighbour!” I laughed delightedly.

“David, Darling it might be over five decades in your time since we parted but it’s only a little over three months since I slept with you in my time. I would recognise your voice on a scratchy phone line from the other side of the world. I could pick out your eyes with their sparkle and mischief from a hundred different photos. I know every inch of your body. I know where the scars are, the tiny mole under your right eye. The scar on your left cheek. I knew who you were even before you spoke. What I didn’t know was how you’d managed to age so much in such in so short a time. Yes, I shaved for you because I know you love smooth and I haven’t looked after myself, down there since I was stupid enough to run away from you. Sorry I didn’t make a very good job of it,” she ended with a giggle.

“I could finish the job for you?” I teased.

“And when did you learn to shave a pussy?”

“Ummm, about forty five, fifty years ago.”

She reached for the kettle. Bed-sits didn’t have hot and cold running water back then. A cold tap and an electric kettle. The electricity was controlled by a meter and the charge for each unit was set by the landlord, it was never less than twice the actual cost. Landlords always ripped off the tenants.

“I usually put the mirror on the chair and stand in front, with the bedside light angled to light as much as possible. How would be best for you?”

I knew exactly how she’d done it. I’d watched countless times. I laid her on two towels on her bed, the hot water in a saucepan on the chair with her badger brush, shaving soap and safety razor beside. It was a true labour of love and took fifteen wonderful minutes. I even had her roll over so that I could remove any follicles from her bum. When I’d finished she stroked herself, exploring and making sure I’d done a good job.

“How am I going to explain that to myself in the morning?” she laughed delightedly, “are you going to fuck me now?”

“Goodness no! Got to make sure I’ve done a decent job at least. I’ve got a special tool, perfect for the job too.”

Her eyes lit up hopefully. She followed my every move as I tidied everything away. I glanced around quickly to make sure I’d missed nothing that might cause any issue in the morning then knelt beside the bed, between her wide parted legs. I placed her feet, one on each of my shoulders and instructed her to ‘lift your bum’. I could see her thinking about it, eventually the penny dropped and I slipped a folded up pillow beneath.

“Ooooooh kinky!”

I ignored her, placed my hands behind her knees and spread her wide before pushing her legs back until her feet were above her head. I dived in, mouth first pressing my nose into her engorged clitty and my tongue as deep as possible into her tunnel of love.

“My goodness! What ARE you doing to me?”

“Something I should have been doing fifty odd years ago! Want me to stop?”

“Nooooooo! Neverrrrrrrr!”

For the next several minutes I used my tongue and lips to explore every possible place where a follicle might have been missed, where a whisker had no right to be hiding and all places between. I was delighted to discover that the sudden previous drenching of my cock was entirely due to her being a squirter as she covered my face with her delicious juices fifty years later.

“Please stop, just for a minute, I need a rest!”

“No you don’t! I haven’t even got started yet!

I did ease up a little, allowed her to straighten her legs a bit and placed her feet back on my shoulders. When she’d settled I slid my big hands under her pert bum and lifted her dripping pussy to my face. Wiping my entire face with her honeypot while she attempted to wash off all my very pleasant work with even more love juices. Again she begged for a rest. No stamina these youngsters!

For the third round I brought my fingers and thumbs fully into the fray. From anus to clitty my digits knew no bounds. She squawked with shock and surprise as my pinkie pressed against her puckered rose. She clammed up tight for the first few exploratory strokes but when I slipped my thumb deep into her pussy her bum seemed to relax a little. She didn’t fight back and slow but sure my little finger entered her back door while the ball of my thumb pressed down seeking the probing finger. My nose ground hard against her clitty while my tongue did it’s very best to lap up her copious offerings of love honey.

By that time she’d given up screaming and shouting out her pleasures and relied completely on the upthrust of her hips, driving her pussy into my face with her hands, firmly planted on the back of my head, I had two thumbs in her pussy, two little fingers probing her arse and my mouth sucking frantically on her clitty. That her fists, clamped tight in my long hair prevented me withdrawing my services was very much a higher priority than any requirement of my need to breathe didn’t cross her mind. I didn’t complain, I knew I’d live to the next century otherwise I’d not be in my present, wonderful situation of eating her flooding pussy.

For my finale I used my index fingers, tenderly stroking the front wall of her swollen fuck-tunnel seeking out the little puckered area of her magic button, my pinkies taking turns to penetrate her anus, my thumbs just kinda hanging around holding her swollen pussy lips open and my mouth sucking very hard on her clit. It was crowded down there but incredible fun and from her reactions we were both really enjoying it.

It didn’t take a lot of searching to find probably the biggest little area of pleasure I’d ever had the delight to tease. With two fingers stroking tenderly across the area, fingers wriggling in her relaxed anus and my lips sucking on her clitoris I brought her to a crescendo of orgasmic joy and held her there as long as I could.

She collapsed into a heap. Her feet, once firmly planted on my shoulders slipped down my arms and flopped onto the bed. Her hands released my head and fell to her side, controlled only by the force of gravity. Easing my fingers from her swollen hole I kissed the entrance to her love-tunnel gently, her engorged clitty carefully and worked my way very cautiously up her naked body until I could kiss each softening nipple and finally her lips. She made a very tired effort to return my kiss.

I rolled over to lay beside her and carefully eased her into my arms.

“I love you sweetheart, always have, always shall,” I whispered into the darkness of the room.

She murmured something inaudible as her breathing shallowed. Snuggling closer she went to sleep in my arms. I moved not a muscle.

Half an hour later my watch vibrated… time to leave. I checked she was properly covered by the blankets, kissed her on the forehead and returned to my own time.

I didn’t have actual sex with her? No, that would have left my seed inside her which would be difficult to explain, even to herself.

Once I was at home I set about checking everything was absolutely perfect for the hoped for reunion in a little under twelve hours time. A matter of hours for me… a lifetime for her. Photos of our time together were placed strategically. Her favourite flowers watered and fed. I dusted and polished everything to within an inch of it’s life. I showered and, at five o’clock in the morning, pulled the blinds down in my bedroom and crawled into bed.

I awoke without the need for an alarm, breakfasted on a double helping of muesli and strong coffee, polished my shoes for the third time in two days, not having worn them at all and performed my ablutions. At eleven thirty I drove to the pub arriving at eleven forty five. At eleven fifty I ordered a coffee and at eleven fifty five I sat at a table where I could watch the ultra modern digital clock over the bar and the main door, without moving my head.

For those of you that are not familiar with the traditional British pub door I should explain that they open outwards. This is an historic feature allowing the pub landlord to evict unsavoury drunks from the premises by grabbing them by the scruff of the neck and the seat of their pants and, quite literally, throwing them out. Had the doors opened inward then damage would have been caused to the door in question. Nowadays it is common to only open one of the two doors, due to the cost of heating, the other remaining bolted. Unfortunately The Plough had opted to only open the left hand door, as you enter. This created a situation whereby it was not possible to see who was entering until the door was effectively fully open and the incoming customer was obliged to step around it.

At eleven fifty nine the door started to open. I held my breath….