Times like these

If I had a time machine, I would find your eighteen year old self.
Not because I’m one of those men that believe in going after a women when she was “more in her prime” but because I want to see you at a time in which I was unfortunately absent.

I want to see the woman I’ll fall in love with when she was innocent. I want to see how she behaves when adulthood was but a fresh concept. I want to see her young face react to a joke – or see her eyes light up when she becomes aroused. How will your lips twitch when I tell you just what you’ve been waiting to hear from someone?

I would seek you out across the plains of time, watching you from afar as you cross the road, ready to catch the morning train to work.

What dress would you wear to work? What panties are hidden beneath your outfit? How would your ass sway as you walk? My cock grows just thinking about it.

See, it’s not so much that I want to take you. To violate you would be heaven, yes, but I would do that 5 years from now. No, it’s the thought of what your younger self would behave like being violated…what her taste in panties would be like…how your sweet younger cunt would look like..how it would taste. The possibilities drive me utterly wild.

I want to experience the end of your teenage years, I want to take that innocence because such a thing fuels me, it fuels that darkness. As I know you will read these words one day and grow wet, maybe even soaked. My, how delicious.

And then I wonder…I wonder how you would sound squealing. I know how you sound when I take the air out of you now but as a teenager in her high school outfit, I want to know how you respond when I squeeze your chest against me, Your sweet untouched nipples pressing against me. I want to hear the air leave you.

If I had a time machine, I would disrupt the universe just to taste your juices. And you know what’s terrible? I honestly couldn’t care about the repercussions because I would give it all away just to devour your mind, body and soul at a time in which I was absent.

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10 thoughts on “Times like these

  1. Loved this and the subs will swoon. I couldn’t agree more when I think about the important women in my life. If I had only known them at the right time, I would have given up my future for the sheer joy of the communion.

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  2. I would like to borrow that time machine so that I could revisit myself in a time when I wasn’t obsessed with the desires, the fears, the pain, the passion, the disappointments that life gives us in each wrinkle of time. I wish to remember what innocence even looked like … especially to a man.

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  3. I absolutely loved this post… I am rather new to your blog, but am so far very much enjoying your writings.

    Respectfully,
    bratt

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  4. A time machine, what a scary thought. You made it sound glorious, but following myself back to 18, that thought scares the bejesus out of me. I was so incomplete and unfinished then, the joy, pleasure and euphoria I feel now, was completely nonexistent then. The sentiment of your words and your desires are beautiful. Thank you for making me think today, it was scary and delicious, two of my favorite feelings. đź’‹

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  5. I am beguiled by a time machine for different reasons I guess. My Ella as a teenager? No thank you. I love what she is now, ripe, fresh, submissive. She has the intent and sophistication to consensualize her submission in a thrilling way.

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    1. Excellent point indeed and a point that poses some interesting questions. Would you like your submissive as she is now, with what she has learnt during her years as an adult or to go backwards to a time when she was younger. For me: the voice in the story was sort of looking back and thinking at how he missed that part of her life where she transformed and more wanted to violate her innocence. Thanks for the comment though, intriguing stuff.

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  6. For me, this would have been the night of my 19 birthday. I suffered from ongoing health issues at 18. It was quite serious and continued on through most of the year. At the time I had accepted my health
    could deteriorate so badly that I may not see my 19th birthday. I have an impossible time remembering the last couple of months, but by some miracle, my prognosis turned around maybe a month and a half before I turned 18. I spent the last six weeks of my 18th year regaining my normal health. I have a hard time remembering that period too. My 19th birthday is the first night I can remember clearly and feeling perfectly healthy. I was on the brink of discovering the first seeds of myself that would blossom into a person I hadn’t met yet, but who I’d soon learn is the person I’ve grown to know these last 22 years as me. As I began to discover her for the first time, that night and every single day of age 19, she became the foundation of my sense of self. People can’t imagine not knowing themselves, much less not having a self. Mine was lost and never refound. I finally a accepted the loss and opted to rebuild from scratch rather than attempt piecing together the remants of slivers and shards of anything recognizable as once useful or even a thing, much less a living person. A girl really. Hard to say anymore. The mess of remants resembles nothing more than glass dust and slivers of mirror so sharp, even disposing of the heap threatens bringing fresh blood unless one is extremely mindful of the task at hand. Is it even worth it? Sweep it into the darkest, forgotten corner and forget about it for another lifetime or two. I know where it’s at if I need it. The one I’ve got now suits me just fine. I’ve been customizing, upgrading, and building more each year, with a careful eye for detail. She needs some cosmetic work still and more tweaking, but underneath it all, you’ve never seen this quality of craftsmanship in your life. I know, because I built her myself. I’ve kept an eye on the details and never cut corners. Not where it counts. I’ve stayed true to myself and my original vision. She’s still a work in progress but anyone who looks closely can see the years spent etching out her details with such precision and depth. Some take for granted how much effort it’s taken over the years just to get her this far. She’s my greatest masterpiece, although still so much to do. So much work still ahead.

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