The first time it happened, I was confused and embarrassed. My husband, Michael, was sitting across the table from me in the restaurant. We were chatting about life. Nothing was unordinary about the place, the setting, the topics. It was pleasant, normal, comfortable, save perhaps the occasional roaming eye of our young waiter who seemed to have a thing for the full breasts of a married woman. His attention was not enough to make me feel awkward, but plenty enough for Michael to notice.
Here and there, Michael dotted a few sentences between us with gentle teasing about the apparent delight our young waiter seemed to take in me. I simply rolled my eyes or brushed off his comments with a wave of my hand as if he were being silly. I am no different than any other woman. It is flattering to be the object of other men's attraction, within reason; especially younger, fit, could-be-a-model waiters. But the chances were remote at best that I would feel any real sense of arousal.
So, it was confusing and embarrassing, not to mention shocking, when one moment we sat chatting like usual and the next moment I sat in what felt like a pool of wetness. In a flash of a moment, I felt the change.
At first, I thought I had somehow wet my pants or unwittingly spilled something. But, there is no way that could have happened without me knowing; not without at least a split second or two of conscious actions unfolding with the resulting consequences of my experience.
No. One second all was normal. The next, I had what felt like a full load of sexual fluid oozing between my legs. Michael and I had made love two days earlier. There was no way possible it could be... Yet, as impossible as it seemed, it was real.
I kept my thoughts, and wetness, to myself. I did not feel comfortable letting on to Michael. I did not understand what was happening, but I was sure that Michael would think it had something to do with the attention the waiter gave me. That was a topic for playful teasing. I was not feeling in the mood for being either playful or a tease at that moment.
When we got home, I immediately undressed to take a shower. As I peeled off my panties, I was dazed by the sticky mess embedded in the fabric and smothered in my flesh. I nervously studied the wetness. In seconds, I had no doubt it was a messy load of cum.
I quivered as I wondered how did it get there?! How did that happen? I began to wonder if perhaps something medical was wrong with me. I shuddered. I showered. I worried.
For two days, I held my secret. I considered going to the doctor, but I did not have the nerve. It was too weird, borderline perverted. What was I supposed to say? "Doctor, I discovered a load of cum in my panties that seem to come out of nowhere. Can you help me?"
Then on the third day, it happened again. Michael and I were home watching TV. He had chosen a movie, an erotic thriller, for us watch. Halfway into the movie, he paused the movie to get us drinks. After returning from the kitchen and giving me a cold glass of fruit juice, we continued to watch the movie. Then, moments later, it happened again.
Sitting there next to him, in a split second, I suddenly felt that same wetness out of nowhere. One second I was watching the movie, amused at how cheesy the gratuitous nudity was, the next I was smothered in a sticky load of wetness against my pussy and oozing between my legs.
I got up to go to the bathroom. "Everything okay, sweetie?" Michael asked.
"I'm fine. I just have to go to the bathroom."
He paused the video as I fast forwarded down the hallway. Then I hit reverse in my mind, desperately searching for anything that could make sense of what I again felt between my legs. Peeling my panties down. A sticky load of cum. Confusion.
I rinsed and quickly changed into the oversized tee I wore to bed. I knew Michael would have no objections to me sitting at his side wearing that as we watched the jiggling and grinding bodies of so many young coeds in the video. This was not the first time we watched such a movie. I knew what was to follow as the final credits rolled across the screen.
Then, about a week later, my world changed forever. I had yet a third experience. I could no longer keep my secret from Michael. I was scared. So, I opened up to him.
What I heard from him, the explanation he gave me, absolutely rocked my world. Even as I type this, I find it difficult to believe, even though I have been living under the influence for over a year now.
In short simple words, Michael explained that he had been working for years on a chemical mixture designed to produced a drug-induced, time-altering, sequence that allowed a person to inject themselves between the moments that made up the present. His work, as both a physicist and a high-level, top-secret,intelligence agent, had finally made a breakthrough. He had discovered, or more accurately created, a chemical substance that when taken allowed a person to "bend time."
"Time benders," he explained, "can slip between the slivers of time-consciousness. Like the gaps in those mini-blinds," he pointed towards our window, "real time has small gaps that are void and unexperienced."
I sat stunned.
"Time benders can slip into those gaps, those microfragments of time. These time benders can become embedded in those points of time as they choose."
I sat with a lost look in my eyes.
"Based upon dosage, a time bender can remain embedded for a span ranging from a very brief fragment or an expansive slot of time."
I still did not understand.
"Kathleen. I have been experimenting with you for the past month. At first, I slipped in between your time frames for mere seconds, making sure I could enter and exit by design. I only observed, then exited."
I was dazed.
"Then, I began to explore. Testing limits. Examining the scope of time available and what actions could be executed."
I mumbled, "in my time."
"Yes, Kathleen, in your time, but beyond the receptors of your awareness, spaced in the gaps of time that exist between your consciousness. You are completely unaware of my presence, yet completely integrated within it."
I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. "So..." I could not find the next word to speak.
"So," Michael continued, "I suspect that you have experienced some, um, perplexing memories and even some unexplained sensations?" He had a sly smile on his face as he looked at me intently.
I muttered, "Yes, you could say that."
His sly smile turned a bit more wicked as he countered, "Perhaps I could say a bit more than that."
I shuddered, "Perhaps."
It felt as if his eyes looked deep into my soul as he said, "Perhaps I could say things about thoughts and evidences that you have kept secret from me. Such things that reflect a level of arousal dripping from your wonderful body that I love so dearly."
All I could do was sit dumbfounded and nod to affirm his words.
"Perhaps, you have experienced pleasures you could not imagine in slivers of time that have left small traces of evidence?"
As if I were under a spell, sitting in a passive trance, I listened and nodded.
"Dare I divulge more details which may ease your mind, and perhaps torture it is well?" His words had a soothing tone, yet were dripping with danger.
He stroked my hair. He brushed his fingers along my neck and shoulders the way he knew I loved. Then his soft fingers slithered along the edge of the collar line of the tank top I was wearing. Slowly his finger brushed back and forth like a pendulum marking time.
"Perhaps you want to know, even need to know, what time bending activities might have occurred in your subconscious?"
As my body quivered at his touch, at his words, I silently nodded, giving him permission to illuminate me further.
His arms cradled me closer to him as he began to speak further. "You remember the night in the restaurant?"
I nodded.
"You remember that handsome waiter. How his eyes enjoyed you. How his thoughts manipulated you in his mind."
I did not move. I did not speak. I could only listen as a level of anxiety, even fear, gripped me.
"One moment we were laughing and giggling about the attention he was giving you. And then, the very next moment something happened, didn't it?"
