Have Time Machine Will Be Lucy

The geek never gets the hot girl. Everyone knows that. Sure, Lenard does finally get Penny in "The Big Bang," but everyone knows that show is fiction. The geek may be good looking in his own right, or he may not be – but society has determined that regardless of his looks, he can never rate over a three. Even if his money can double that score, he will never land a babe above a 6. How do I know? I was always the geek.

In high school, I found myself fascinated by the sciences. I wanted to know everything. I excelled in my classes, and so was largely shunned by my peers. I had hormones just like everyone else. My body underwent the same change everyone else underwent, and I researched it to understand it. I was fascinated by the encyclopedia entry entitled "coitus," which reported that "the intense movements of the penis inside the vagina may lead to a mutual orgasm, which is generally very satisfying for both individuals." Do you want to know why I remember that 1980 encyclopedia entry? It was the closest I got to sex my entire high school career – unless you count my hands and the lingerie section of the Sears and JC Penny catalogs.

Girls tended to run away if they saw me coming. I had no natural social graces. I never got learn any, because I never got to interact with the opposite sex in a normal way. And so I stayed at home – sexually frustrated and repressed. I fit in the only place I could – in my classes. I excelled, and went off to college where it was more of the same. Do you know how many girls were even enrolled in my Physics department? Four. Two were physically nondescript, and I can't even remember what they looked like. One was a very sexually confidant thin blonde that only spoke to me once in four years – and that was to tell me how she was willing to sleep with the professor to get an A in his class. The other one – well she was the stuff my dreams were made of. I don't remember her name anymore, but she was olive skinned with a flawless complexion, endless green eyes, thick wavy hair, and a scent that lingered in the room when she left. She left shortly after I arrived. Often.

All of this is to help you understand what shaped me – what made me act the way I did. I had red blood just like any other guy. I was good enough looking that I was picked as a doppelganger for Richard Dreyfus. I bet my dick was bigger, too. I studied sex enough to become an expert with the few women that would have me. But I always wanted more. I always figured it would never happen, either.

After earning my PhD in Physics, I took a research position with a well-known University. I won't tell you which one because it is not important to the story. I also don't want anyone from there to figure out who I am, and lay claim to the invention that changed my life: teleportation across time and space.

I'd like to say that I studied the fabric of time until I understood how it could be warped and twisted at will. The fact couldn't be any farther from that. I got lucky. I was in the right spot at the right time to take advantage of the side effects of the apparatus my fellow Physicists were building in the room above me. They were unexpected, unusual, and completely unnoticed by anyone else. My colleagues were trying to isolate antineutrinos, but stopped the experiment when they were unsuccessful. I noticed that a banana on my desk was in a different spot and less ripe one day than it had been the last.

I told no one – but three months later, I had a working pocket sized prototype teleportation device that could move me and anything within 5 feet of me at will through time and space. I won't bore you with the details of how it worked, because you either wouldn't believe me or you would – and either of these would be bad for our story which involving healthy doses of teleportation and a significant bit of willing suspension of disbelief.

Any geek worthy of the name has thought of what to do if he can move through time: get rich. I decided that the best product to peddle across time was Viagra. Think about it. It's small, cheap, and a complete miracle in previous civilizations. Kings would pay almost limitless riches for its effects – for what good is being an all-powerful sovereign with the right to fuck the most beautiful girls in the kingdom if you can't harden enough to penetrate them?

I secured my stash of pills from a dubious online supply house that charged a buck and a half a pill. With the help of Google translate, I managed to print out a stack handbills that explained in great detail just what one could expect from my wares. I decided on ancient Sparta, the cradle of democracy. I stepped back 2700 years into the past – about a century before the monarchy dissolved into democracy. I picked this time, because the current 60 year old king had just married a young bride, and he had 10 more years before he would kick the bucket. Wikipedia is amazing.

I managed to find a market and distribute my handbills. They drew immediate attention. They were printed on the finest paper anyone had ever seen – and I was quickly summoned to the king. He was interested in my wares, and I gave him a sample, promising to return the following day.

That afternoon, I wandered aimlessly through the city, killing time. I followed my fancy through a different market until I came upon something I hadn't even considered – a slave auction. I had no idea how much was being bid, but the general idea was very clear. They bought and sold humans here. I resolved not to lose my teleporter – but I also began to question the wisdom of bringing back gold. I saw an old geezer smile in triumph and lead away his beautiful new girl with her hands tied behind her back, and I suddenly wanted in – in more ways than one.

The following day, I made my way back to see the king. They recognized me outside the palace, and ushered me in. The king gestured that he wanted more pills, and I showed him the remaining 2 dozen. He gestured to his money bag, wanting to know how much I needed. I shook my head, and drew a girl with her hands tied behind her back. I wanted a slave girl. Communicating this was surprisingly easy.

The king nodded, and his orderlies motioned for me to follow them. They led me to a regular slave market. We walked past stalls of working men for sale. Then we walked past middle aged women - nurses and domestic servers. They pushed past the scant privacy of cloth drapes hanging in the back of the courtyard, and to where the nubile young virgins were for sale.

There were two strings of girls for sale that day, tied neck to neck on ropes. They stood at attention as the orderlies approached. Their naked oiled bodies glistened in the sunlight filtering through the cloth canopy. Each girl had a thin rope securing her hands firmly behind her back. Additional ropes were pulled tightly around their elbows, forcing them as closely together as possible and forcing their chests to curve in the best cleavage displaying manner possible.

There were eight girls tied neck to neck on the near rope, watched over by a wizened old man. On the other string, a middle aged woman had six girls tied in the same way. Quite a few men were watching the spectacle – but they didn't seem to have the money to matter. The girls had obviously been prepped for buyers, with every hair on their bodies plucked and shaved. A sweet, floral perfumed smell permeated the air, but I had the distinct impression that I was viewing a couple of stringers of freshly caught fish.

The words that were exchanged were Greek to me, but the orderlies were fluent in universal gestures. They motioned to the girls, telling me to pick my favorite.

The best girls were in the front. They were plump and soft with rounded bellies and sagging breasts, the ideal of beauty at the time. Moving towards the back, the girls got thinner and more muscled – and decidedly hotter by my standards.

Towards the back, I chose a petite little dark headed firecracker with curly black hair and well formed perky breasts. While most of the other girls bound elbows were between two to six inches apart, hers were actually touching each other. This was a testament both to her sender build and to her flexibility. I motioned towards her, and the wizened old man chuckled and gave a meaningful glance to the king's orderlies. They grinned at my totally foolish choice. I could have any one I wanted and I was choosing this one? Nevertheless, the man untied her and pulled her to a couch. She did not resist as he pushed her over and gestured to her intact hymen. I couldn't help grinning. We shook hands. He draped a rough toga around her shoulders, and tied a short length of rope around her neck. He handed me the other end, and the orderlies paid the man. We followed the orderlies out of the market onto the street.

The girl and I walked silently out of the city, her bare feet plopping softly in the dust. No one paid us any attention. As soon as we were outside of civilization and alone, I reactivated the teleporter, and we stepped back into my city apartment. Her eyes got as wide as saucers and she gave a stifled scream. Then she sat slowly backwards and sank into the carpet. Her eyes darted from one side of the strange room to the other – awed by the incredible color and luxury she had never dreamed of. I paid $750 a month for this apartment, so you can imagine its rather neglected appearance – but she had never seen anything so plush.

She may have been from a dingy time in history, but she was far from dingy. I removed the toga, and she stood naked in front of me. Only her feet were dusty from the road – so I took her to the bathroom to wipe down. She yelped again as I turned on the water in the sink – then stared in fascination. I let the water run 30 seconds to get warm, and then I dampened a wash cloth. She felt the warm, moist cloth, and her eyes widened again. It was a good look on her.

Her hands were still tied behind her back, and I wasn't ready to change that – so I began gently wiping her feet and legs. Ancient Greek dust wiped up like modern American dust, and my own personal Greek goddess was ready. I ushered her out of the bathroom and in to the bedroom, and then motioned for her to sit on the bed. She sat down gingerly, and I slowly lowered her over onto her back - her bound hands and elbows keeping those breasts jutting outward. She was clearly apprehensive, but made no effort to resist. I untied the rope around her neck, and began caressing her body. She did not resist, but neither did she relax. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

She had been smaller than the average girl on the stringer, but very petite by modern standards. Her belly was flat, her waist sculpted, and her breasts were well rounded and shapely. She had a flawless dark complexion, and her face was framed in black hair and featured wide, innocent black eyes you could get lost in. She couldn't have been a day over 21 years old in chronological age, although I smiled at the thought that she was technically well over 2700 years old.

I kneaded her right breast, and she began to inadvertently squirm. Her face relaxed slightly as her breast warmed under my hands. I shifted to the other breast. She let out a small sigh, and I let my hand stray to her hymen-sealed sex. I touched it ever so lightly. At first she recoiled – but I pressed on. She was moist and ready, so I disrobed, and straddled her. I kissed her facial lips as I penetrated her missionary style.

I'd like to report that we fucked like porn stars, but it takes time for girls to learn to do that. It also takes regular sex for guys like me to be able to last that long. Instead, as my shaft brushed her lower lips, every muscle in her body tensed. I kissed her oral lips again, and began my job. She winced as I assaulted her virgin passage, and I made slow progress. It took a full minute to bury my shaft to the hilt, and then I stayed motionless for the next half minute thrilling at her moist tightness. She relaxed the barest, tiny bit, and I began gently thrusting.

The intense movements of my penis in her vagina did not produce a mutual orgasm – but it made me cum. I moaned my pleasure as I pumped her full of my thick, warm essence. She relaxed more, and a slight smile played on her full lips. In her mind, she was now well and properly mine. I collapsed over her still bound form, my dick slowly returning to its flaccid state. Then I got off. She made no move to prevent the inevitable dismount mess on the sheets. She couldn't have even if she had known what to do. My cum mixed with her juice and virginal stain and trickled down between her thighs, over her tiny anal bud, and onto the sheets. I watched for several minutes, and my mind ran wild.

What the heck do you do with an impossibly hot slave girl you have just deflowered tied up in your bed and leaking your clotted cream onto the sheets? I decided to begin by washing her up. I got another warm cloth, and she visibly relaxed as I wiped up the mess. Then I helped her sit up on the edge of the bed, and I began to work on the knots that held her hands and elbows behind her back. The skin under the rough ropes was an angry red, and I wondered how long she had been secured like that. I know that I hadn't helped by keeping her tied up for the last three hours (or 2700 years) and then fucking her in that position.

I worked the knots loose, and then got some antibiotic ointment. I rubbed it into the angry rope burns, and she just watched, eyes speaking volumes of gratitude. Then I settled her back on the bed lying face forward. I began massaging her back, and she audibly signed. I couldn't keep my hands on her back for long. Soon I was exploring her neck and waist, and then her small but shapely bum. It was round, firm, and silky smooth with a lot of definition.

I had cum only fifteen minutes before, but I was already raging hard again, so I mounted her doggy style. I lifted her butt a few inches into the air and slipped a pillow under her to hold it there. I penetrated her easily this time, our previous offerings to the gods of sex making it easy going. She gave a small yelp of pain, but didn't resist or tighten near as much as before. It only took me a few seconds to empty again, this time firing far less into her but being no less vocal. I collapsed over her petite frame again, and this time it was 10 minutes before I could move.

What the heck do you do with an impossibly hot ancient Greek slave girl you have just deflowered and then fucked doggy style lying on your bed leaking your clotted cream onto the sheets? She had no idea how to act, and I couldn't even begin to tell her. I was suddenly overcome with love for the pretty little girl. I wanted to talk to her - to blow her little ancient mind – to impress her as a powerful wizard. She was going to need clothes.

Once again, I helped her clean up. Then I dressed, with her watching my every move with sharp, inquisitive eyes. I motioned for her to stay in the bed, and l found a measuring tape and instructions for measuring clothing sizes for a woman. She measured in at 34-20-34, and five foot even, making her a petite sized XS. She couldn't have weighed more than 90 pounds, which made her B to C sized breasts amazing. I left her sitting naked on the bed, and headed over to the local department store where I dropped almost $1000 on clothes for her.

I was nervous as I walked in the door – but she was still sitting on the bed where I left her. Unfortunately, the apartment smelled like shit. I looked around, and one of my kitchen bowls was on the ground at the foot of the bed, a wash cloth draped over it. She had no idea what a toilet was! I picked up the bowl, motioned for her to follow, and shook the knobby brown turd into the toilet. I took her hand, and pressed it down onto the lever. She jerked back as the machine flushed, involuntarily covering her mouth with her free hand in astonishment. Then I sat on the crapper, and dropped a deuce. I showed her the TP, wiped myself, and then made her flush it all down. Modern life lesson one – how to shit.

The next lesson was how to dress. I can't say that I am an expert, but I managed to help her into a bra, panties, and a short skirt. We got a top over her head. Then I pulled out sandals. At least she knew what these were. Her eyes got big again and she gasped aloud, then clutched at them and pulled them tightly to her chest. She literally knelt, and kissed my feet. When she looked up, her eyes were full of tears. I lifted her face and kissed it, and she kissed back. Then she put on her sandals – and I remembered that many ancient cultures forbade slaves from wearing shoes. I had half a mind to take the sandals back, but then I thought better of it. She had a lot to learn, and I wasn't going to get worked up over ancient cultural norms. I was looking forward to showing her around.

Now I know what you are probably thinking. Won't this be dangerous? You don't speak the same language, and slavery isn't exactly permitted in our modern society. What if she gets away. Dude! Just relax. I had a time/space teleporter - remember? Besides, she had (and still has) no idea that slavery is illegal, and she couldn't talk to anyone about it to find out.

When we came to the apartment from ancient Greece, we teleported in. My little goddess had been amazed by running water. Now we were going to learn about cars. I held her hand and guided her out the door into the hallway and then to the elevator. I hit the down button, and she stared as the call light flashed. We heard the elevator approach and she tensed - unsure of what to expect. I'm sure she was shocked when the door slid open, but she allowed herself to be guided into the elevator. She looked wildly about as the doors closed, and I gave her a moment to cool off. Then I hit "B" for our basement parking deck. To me it was a slow elevator. She, however, had no idea what to expect. As she felt the elevator begin to move downward, she clutched wildly at the railing, hanging on for dear life. I watched her and chuckled. She looked back at me, terror clearly evident in her face. She was more afraid of that elevator than she had been when I deflowered her. I guess the poor dear had been expecting the deflowering party – but this wizardry was beyond her.

The door slid open again, and she relaxed, glanced out, and yelped in surprise. The hallway she had just entered from was now a dimly lit parking garage, and she was sure she was standing in the presence of gods. I laughed again, took her hand, and led her over to my car.

I could spend a long time detailing her first car ride – but that probably isn't what you are interested in hearing. She thought the car was comfortable, and the seat belt was stupid. Then I started the engine. She screamed all the way out of the parking garage – one hand clutching wildly at mine and the other grasping her "stupid" seat belt. I was only a few blocks from the interstate, so I took the on ramp. Traffic was relatively light, and I got up to highway speed. She sputtered with amazement, and began repeating some kind of incantation. She had probably never gone faster than a human can run in her whole life, so 70 mph was outside of her comprehension zone.

I didn't torment her for long. I pulled off the ramp and into the drive through. I ordered burgers, fries, and Cokes. Then I drove to a nearby park and took a nearby picnic table. She nibbled at a salty fry. Then she tried the burger. After several big bites and obvious enjoyment, I gave her the Coke. She couldn't figure out the straw, so I took the lid off. She took a big swallow, and then coughed violently. Carbonated beverages take some getting used to – but she was definitely going back for more.

After dinner, we headed back to the apartment. It was getting late, and my male appendage had resumed its rather stiff imitation of an oak shovel handle. Whether or not I loved this little girl, she considered me to be some combination of her husband and her master, with full rights to do whatever I wanted. I took her back, and introduced her to the shower and soap. I showered with her, demonstrating the soap on myself and then rubbing her down with it – cock straining for release. I toweled her off, and took her to bed, where I explored every inch of her body with my tongue. As I swirled my tongue around and around her little nub, she began to instinctively thrust back against me. Soon she was whimpering and rubbing her hands through my hair. It wasn't porn star stuff, but she was doing a pretty respectable job for a 2700 year old. She ground her pussy in my face, and her juices began flowing. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and then she began to moan. I pulled my face out from between her thighs, and penetrated her in one powerful thrust. She lay quivering underneath me, too inexperienced to know what to do. I gently took her higher and higher until she closed her eyes and screamed. I managed to hold onto my load, and considered what to do. I owned this girl, and could do whatever I wanted. I considered oral and anal, but then decided that what she needed right now was gratification. There was plenty of time for the other stuff after I taught her to love sex. With that in mind, I emptied myself deep in her tight little cunt. We cleaned her up, and then cuddled in bed. That was the first night I have ever spent with a completely naked girl – and I still didn't even know her name.