Beth Taylor, a fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old, semi-attached lesbian sat in her spartan apartment glancing through travel brochures. Since graduating from THE Ohio State University in the Spring she was determined to do more traveling than a clumsy NBA guard. Her options were even better now, in 2044.
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Like most her age she was conceived during the pandemic of 2020, the most cursed year of all. Her generation even had a name: quaranteens.

One positive to emerge from the lockdown was scientists had ample free time to invent and create based on the works of H.G. Wells and Doc Brown. This led to time travel which explains the brochures our hero perused. 

A company called 'Time Share, Inc.' had cornered the market in safe, affordable time travel. Like Beth's brother, time went both ways which were her dilemma.

She could go into the future to discover mankind's progress or go backward to experience first-hand what she had only read about in history class or seen in old movies and TV. She couldn't decide which direction to go. All for the low price of one-thousand Biden Bucks. 

She finally decided on the past since she was more familiar with those times. It was like going on vacation to a country that speaks English. One less obstacle to overcome.
 
She settled on America in the 1950s because she had practically memorized 'Happy Days', 'American Graffiti,' and 'Grease.' Billy Joel's 'We didn't Start the Fire' also provided a blueprint for the decade. She wished her current girlfriend, Lenore, would accompany her, but she was terrified of running into Lenny or Squigy. 

Beth had time travel fears as well, but at least hers were more realistic. She feared the hideous Morlocks from the George Pal movie, 'The Time Machine'. For the uninitiated, a Morlock is a subterranean beast resembling a cross between Phyllis Diller and Rosie O'Donnell. 

First, she had period clothes to buy along with old currency. Although time travel was perfectly legal, it was preferable to blend in with your destination because of something called 'Futurephobia.' 

After shopping at the Salvation Army Superstore she took the train to Time Share, Inc. headquarters to buy her ticket. While there she also read a pamphlet on the 50s which described the decade as very conservative politically and sexually.

That ruled out her original plan of walking down the 50's thoroughfare yelling, "Me so horny!" like a Vietnamese hooker.

She was already suffering separation anxiety about leaving her girlfriend of three weeks. Which is why she scheduled their rendezvous at Five Guys Burgers to savor the sweet Lenore and a bagful of freshly-cooked Cajun fries. (Possibly not in that order.) 

In their booth, they both promised to be faithful while apart with both fighting to keep a straight face. Beth even felt her nipples grow longer from this little white lie.

Lenore immediately observed the elongated nips and suggested grabbing their grease-dripping bag of fries and returning home for more pressing dietary needs. 

Lenore was different than other women who caught Beth's eye and/or pussy. She normally gravitated toward fem lesbians, but Lenore, while attractive, was more like lesbians found in exploitation movies about women in prison.

Her close-cropped brown hair made her look like a new recruit in 'Full Metal Jacket.' But for Beth, her girl surpassed any need she ever had in bed. Her fingers were as dexterous as a safecracker along with having the endurance of a kindergartener at recess.  Plus she rated a solid eleven on the important 'kink' scale.

No sooner than they returned home, Lenore inserted her favorite XXX DVD. It was 'Spankenstein' informing the salivating Beth what lay ahead. 

With her skirt now over her back and panties around her ankles, she lifted on tiptoes, assumed the position and wiggled her bare bottom as an invitation.

Lenore quickly accepted the invite with a quick slap on each cheek. Pink skin was her RSVP. She then switched to a fly swatter and began thwacking firmly. Beth felt like Jeff Goldblum in 'The Fly.' 

Lenore had an expert touch with the red, plastic implement. Her swats were not too hard. They were not too light. They were just right. Beth could now relate to how Goldilocks felt at a Three Bears porridge tasting.

With her bare bottom stinging deliciously Beth was gyrating all over the kitchen table, twisting-and-turning like a Hogwarts staircase. She was momentarily saddened when Lenore stepped back admiring her handiwork.

Beth's mood quickly improved when she noticed her girlfriend donning her favorite, well-used toy. The flesh-colored contraption had more straps than the luggage rack of the Griswald's Family Truckster. 

When she saw the eight-inch girlcock being lubed liberally she knew what her future held. Beth whimpered but didn't resist. She couldn't refuse since she had taken Lenore like this on their first date; if you call selling plasma together a date?

Beth reached back spreading her cheeks, awaiting the uncomfortable stretching of her rose. She didn't have to wait long. 

Lenore thrust her hips forward like Tina Turner trying to avoid a swift kick from a drunken Ike. After non-stop pounding Beth rubbed her clit on the corner of the table. Her climax hit like a steampunk calculator.

She then climbed off the table and kissed Lenore on her unpainted lips before tearing up. "I'm so sorry I can't repay your kindness but I really must get to Time Share or I might be left behind."

An understanding Lenore replied, "That's alright, Beth. When you return you'll be all mine. Be careful out there and watch out for those fuckers, Lenny and Squigy. Oh, by the way, what size collar do you wear?" Beth giggled, pretending not to hear and left quickly.

In the hallway, she breathlessly leaned against the wall and whispered, "Medium." Then on weak, trembling legs, she left for her great adventure.

At Time Share she was first required to suffer through a four-hour PowerPoint presentation. Time seemed to stand still. Next, she was required to surrender her cell phone since there was no service where she was headed, obviously. Still, this didn't sit well with a horde of teens who were giving up their phones while sobbing uncontrollably and chanting, "Privileged teen lives matter."

Next, it was time to inspect her time machine: a 1962 re-fitted Chevrolet Corvair. Its Flux capacitor already humming. 

The vehicle didn't run on gasoline but on magic. Kinda. The propulsion was provided by a powerful mix of Harry Potter's butterbeer and Hermione's vaginal juices. Beth looked forward to siphoning.

To jump time the only requirement was to get the Corvair over fifteen MPH, but that was no small feat considering its speedometer only registered seven. It was the automotive equivalent of the cartoon mouse, Slowpoke Rodriguez. 

The Stones song 'Time is on My Side' blared, providing ambiance. The travelers were then told to enter the cramped quarters.

Inside an excited Beth found more pamphlets; the most prominent being a list of time travel 'do's and don'ts.'  First, do not assassinate Hitler. His family was tired of the daily funeral expenses. 

Also, it was not recommended to buy Apple stock at bargain prices then sell them at today's prices. This fiscal tomfoolery had caused the stock market crash of 2037. 

The plummeting stocks turned billionaires into paupers overnight. Even Donald Trump fell prey. His family was forced to move into a tent which The Donald named 'Trump Teepee.' 

He told Fox News he had built the greatest teepee in history, better than any Indian. (Or as he said, "Injun.")

These rules didn't impair Beth's plans. She wasn't in this for fame or fortune. She only wanted a simple life away from the rat race. An innocent time like attending a Sunday band concert in Mayberry. 

No more concern over masks or social-distancing. No fatal car accidents because fools were texting and driving. Beth just wasn't made for these times.

The pamphlet also suggested one of the common myths regarding time travel, the space-time continuum, was a hoax. If one steps on a slug while traveling in the past, future civilizations won't crumble. But since this hypothesis was gleaned from Wikipedia, Beth planned to still avoid slugs.

Finally, it was departure time.

With the pit crew pushing the cheap-ass car down a steep incline to gather the necessary speed, the riders cheered like going down the first drop on a Cedar Point rollercoaster. Careening wildly, knocking mountain goats flying off the precipice who then landed in a plume of black smoke at the bottom of a ravine, Wile Coyote-esque.

Bells and whistles began their deafening roar meaning time travel had begun. Bright, multi-colored lights raced across the cracked windshield with Strauss's powerful 'Thus Sprach Zarathustra" pumping up the travelers. Kubrick would be proud. Traveling at the speed of light their trip was over almost instantly. 

Parking outside Hill Valley, Beth, and her fellow travelers walked into their past. Strangers in a strange time.

Beth quickly checked into her reserved motel and changed into her poodle skirt to go unnoticed. Glancing in the mirror Beth realized the origin of a poodle skirt because she looked like a dog in it. Back on Main Street she quickly found signs she had, indeed, gone back in time. 

The first thing she noticed was a newspaper with the headline 'Korean War Escalates'. This surprised Beth because she had never heard of such a war. 

It wasn't the strange headline that stunned her. It was the newspaper itself. In 2044 newspapers were as rare as getting the correct order at a Wendy's drive-thru. 

An Elvis song coming from inside the local soda shoppe lured her inside where she immediately searched for Betty and Veronica. Sitting at the counter, Beth was amazed at the variety of hairstyles: ducktail, ponytail, bouffant, and pompadour. At least there were no mullets. On the counter she noticed a flyer for a sock hop later at the 'Jerry Lee Lewis Center for Promiscuous Cousins. No age limit.'
 
Since she had been practicing dances like the jitterbug and stroll with Lenore she felt prepared to wow the locals with her Ginger Rogers-like moves. But she still had time to kill before tripping the light fantastic so decided to see more of Hill Valley. Stepping into the sunshine she was surprised at the number of people smoking. Even kids were puffing.

She later discovered in the 50s a child's growth was measured by its first word, first step, and first Marlboro. It seemed like every business had a radio playing the latest hit tunes. But for every Elvis, Roy Orbison, or Chuck Berry song there would be ten by Doris Day or Pat 'fucking' Boone. 

Beth silently wondered why she didn't visit the 60s to experience first-hand the British Invasion and the greatest album of all-time, 'Pet Sounds' by the Beach Boys.

On the Ben Franklin Dime Store window, she noticed a sale on English Leather which sounded like riding crop material thus the perfect souvenir for Lenore. Disappointment quickly followed. 

After venturing inside the cluttered store Beth realized English Leather was a man's cologne. A malodorous one at that.

With her sinuses and eyes burning she stumbled again outside and discovered she was next to a single-screen movie theater. Something she never knew existed. It was showing the classic giant ant movie, 'Them' along with 'Creature From the Black Lagoon' (in 3-D no less.) Beth almost came when she bought a fifty-cent ticket that let her see both flicks. 

There on the silver screen, trailers for next week's double-feature, 'Rashomon' and 'Seven Samurai,' sprang to life in beautiful black-and-white. Beth realized she didn't go to the past, she went to Heaven. When a Bugs Bunny cartoon played after the trailers she was certain the rapture was here.

After watching both films and guzzling three incredibly sweet old-school Cokes, the now-diabetic Beth walked outside, blinded by the light. Squinting, she observed huge cars barreling down Broadway. 

The Studebakers could easily seat eight passengers while still observing social-distancing. Some of these behemoths were equipped with more fins than a Jaws marathon.

As fascinating as the cars were, Beth was spellbound by all the activity along the cracked sidewalks. First, a young woman was mastering the hula hoop; her hips violently swishing side-to-side, gyrating like a lap dance at a titty bar. 

Additionally, young boys were skipping up-and-down the street with what looked like raccoons perched atop their heads. Locals would only point and smile at them. Are these folks unaware of rabies?

Walking to the dance Beth was exhilarated. Once inside, boogie-woogie piano greeted her followed by a myriad of rockabilly tunes. Even a surprisingly good one by Conway Twitty of all people. She glanced at the crowd. Too many girls wearing pencil skirts that desperately needed erasers. None of them showed any leg. 

The boys were no better with their sideburns, cuffed jeans, and hair slicked back with more oil than a Fry Daddy. The cigarette pack rolled up in their shirt sleeve was the cherry on top of their elegance. Beth hadn't seen this many ugly guys together since watching a Ramones documentary. 

They were talking loudly saying things like "hep cat" and "Daddy-o" and offering to trade "knuckle sandwiches." How did these juvenile delinquents ever get laid?

They did grab her attention while discussing a certain blonde on the dance floor. Her name was Peggy Sue (of course) and she was "hot to trot" and willing to indulge in "backseat bingo" for an RC cola and Moon Pie.

The ugliest guy (in a close call) informed his posse that Peggy Sue had entertained more troops than Bob Hope. This naturally caused Beth to look feverishly for her. Instead, she noticed a lovely brunette in pastel capris that hugged her bubble butt like a toddler clinging to his blankie. 

Somehow she was standing alone, swaying to a Platters' song. Beth introduced herself with a tender handshake.

"I'm Bobbi Sue," she replied holding Beth's hand limply.

Unfazed Beth pressed on, "Would you like to dance, Bobbi Sue?"

"But you're a girl?" 

"I appreciate you noticing. Now, how about that dance?"

"Are you one of them tomboys?"

Beth wondered if 'tomboy' was a 50s euphemism for lesbian so she nodded and led her potential conquest to the dance floor. Beth had trouble weaving through the others with her eyes locked on Bobbi Sue's tight sweater and Bardot-like pouty lips. 

Not to mention her impressive chest. You've heard of Betty Davis' eyes? This girl had Annette Funicello titties.

Beth was curious. "I can't believe you aren't here with someone. You're beautiful."

"Well, I'm considered a beatnik so I scare these squares. See, I don't dig all this boring music. I prefer jazz and smoking reefers with jazz musicians. Now, knowing that, if you don't want to dance I understand."

What Beth understood was that this girl was a free spirit. The kind willing to experiment like a freshman at Vassar. She replied, "I'm no fan of this music either. Would you like to go to my roo... uh, pad, and get better acquainted?" 

Bobbi Sue accepted the cheesy invite and off they went. Inside the motel room, Beth pulled a six-pack of PBR from the ice, offering one to her busty friend. She also moved closer, asking, "Do you happen to have any of the aforementioned reefer?"

Her friend giggled. "You talk funny. You ain't from around here, are you? I hope you ain't one of them commies McCarthy is looking for." She then produced the worst rolled joint Beth had ever seen.

Wanting to ease her mind without raising the specter of time travel Beth said, "I'm no commie. I like Ike."

"That's great cause I hate commies almost as much as I hate the future trash that visits here ever so often."

Beth realized the conversation was treading into dangerous territory and knew she needed a diversion.

They sat close together on the bed. When their hands touched while passing the seeds-and-stems loaded joint, Beth gasped. She knew she had to take it slow since Bobbi Sue was undoubtedly a tourist in the land of Lesbo. But after putting out a small fire on the bedspread from exploding seeds, she could wait no longer.

She kissed the brunette tenderly on her full lips, tasting Maybelline. When there was no resistance or 911 calls, Beth's smooch intensified. They hugged awkwardly before lying back on the smoldering sheets. 

With hands exploring, Bobbi was proving to be a willing participant. "Just relax, Bobbi Sue. I will never hurt you. I only want to make you feel good." Bobbi Sue didn't object.

Inspired by the skunky beer and even skunkier weed, Beth began nibbling on her neck. While writhing Bobbi implored, "Don't give me a hackey tickey...uh, tacky hickey or you'll be cruising for a bruising."

As nice as that sounded to Beth, she ceased nibbling and began undressing her new paramour. 

"We can be very patient, baby. You'll have lots of firsts tonight, Bobbi Sue. I'm gonna take you higher than Sputnik. Just trust me." 

After quickly removing her capris and sweater, Beth realized she should have started this earlier because Bobbi still lay there in a girdle, garter, granny panties, and a conical bra that had probably poked out more eyes than Moe Howard.

The Time traveler stood up, undressing which caught Bobbi's attention.

"I've never seen such beautiful undies, Beth. You must shop at Sears and Roebuck."

Curtseying, Beth lay on top of Bobbi kissing with a passion unknown in the 50s. Both now grinding together in heat. Beth's finger and thumb locked on Bobbi's erect nipple, twisting and turning like Chubby Checker. With her lips fastened on the stiff nip, Beth began suckling and Bobbi Sue began whimpering. Cause-and-effect. 

With her palm flat between the beatnik's legs Beth applied pressure to the sensitive spot before whispering, "Bobbi Sue, I'm going to eat your pussy now."

The panicked girl screamed, "Oh, my God! Are you a cannibal?" 

Beth had to chuckle at her naivete. "Yes, I'm Hannibal Lechter."

"You told me your name is Beth! Are you on the lam? Is J. Edgar on your trail?"

Ignoring this cross-examination as she kissed down Bobbi's taut tummy before lowering her plain cotton panties Beth said, "Now for the piece de resistance."

An excited Bobbi Sue exclaimed, "Oh dear God, you're French too? What have I gotten myself into? Hey, you aren't going to kiss me there, are you?" 

Beth nodded happily before indeed kissing her damp pussy thoroughly. She thought surely gay sex wasn't unheard of in the 50s with so many gay and bi actors in this, the Golden Age of Hollywood: Crawford, Stanwyck, Grant, and Brando, for instance. 

Even the biggest sexpot of all, Marilyn Monroe, allegedly had many girl-on-girl dalliances (those lucky bitches!)     

Parting her petals with her stiff tongue, Bobbi tasted sweeter than a Coca Cola float with two straws. With quivering thighs, Bobbi Sue practically elevated off the bed like Linda Blair. Her nectar flowed easily into Beth's waiting mouth, coating her tongue with manna from Heaven. 

Beth had forgotten her vow to Lenore. In fact, she had forgotten Lenore.

Breathlessly, Bobbi lay in confusion over what had just happened. "Are you the devil, Beth?" she asked before searching for Billy Graham's phone number.

"I can be devilish at times. Just show me some sympathy."

Bobbi didn't get the reference along with many readers. Misunderstanding, the startled girl screamed, "Satan, get thee behind me!"

"Happily," Beth replied flipping her novice lover over then parting her round cheeks, licking down her crease. So much for the slow approach.

Hysterical now Bobbi began crying, imploring Beth to stop. She yelled, "Oh, God, I hope my diarrhea doesn't come back!" And with that, Bobbi's first lesson in rimming came to an unceremonious halt.

They then cuddled and kissed as Beth's finger played inside Bobbi's sloppy pussy which was still oozing. Adding a second finger made Bobbi yell, hitting High C that shattered windows throughout town. It was later blamed on the Russians or weather balloons.

Reposed, the two kissed softly until Bobbi asked, "What do you call that thing you did when you kissed me down there?"

"Cunnilingus."

Bobbi playfully slapped Beth's arm saying, "You and those big words. You're a regular Jack Paar. But seriously, I'll never remember that."

Beth thought it over and said, "I know! We'll call it the 'Time Warp.'" She gave a smug wink.

Bobbi Sue's eyes sparkled. "Let's do the Time Warp again!"

They did. Bobbi had learned the steps expertly and even treated Beth to a glorious cum. Round two led to more kissing and snuggling. The intimacy caught both off guard. With damp, pleading eyes Bobbi whispered, "Promise you won't leave me, Beth. I know this is dirty and wrong but I need you in my life." 

The request caught future girl by surprise and she had no idea how to respond because she knew in weeks she would disappear. Her failure to answer broke Bobbi's heart. The best of times quickly turned into the worst of times. 

Beth, disappointed in herself, then kissed the salty tears before they drifted off to sleep holding each other. It felt like time was slipping away from the new lovers.

Beth appropriately awoke to 'Wake up Little Susie' on the crackling AM radio. She felt like crying when she realized she was alone. She did cry later after finding a dozen roses on the counter and then completely fell apart upon discovering a love letter Bobbi wrote and taped to the door. 

It rivaled anything Elizabeth Barrett Browning had ever penned. She knew she had to tell Bobbi Sue the truth and soon. Or even better, she could fake her own death instead. Who would have dreamed casual sex could lead to heartache?

Despite the rocky start, she still had two weeks left and she had it planned out. She was going to the 'Whites Only Library' after drinking at the 'White's Only water fountain'. It dawned on her the 50s were kinda fucked up. Which reminded her to get a polio vaccination but to avoid thalidomide. Plus her hacking cough was bothersome.

Beth had never smoked a cigarette in her life, but after just one day in the 50s, she was already up to two packs of Lucky Strikes a day. Luckily, there was no lung cancer in the 50s.

She was struggling futilely to forget Bobbi Sue. Beth felt she was being noble by avoiding her. Not wanting to hurt her. At least that was the lie she told herself in cold rationalization. Hopefully, the time would fly by, and soon she would be back to her time and whats-her-name. 

After two weeks of watching 'The Honeymooners' and 'I Love Lucy,' Beth finally told Bobbi Sue the brutal truth then kissed her a tearful farewell at the Corvair and off she went back to the future. But, a huge part of her heart wanted to stay and spend her remaining years making love with Bobbi time after time. 

It was too late now. The Corvair was already limping along to the strains of Pink Floyd's 'Time.'

Beth looked back only to see her girlfriend's image fading. She was tempted to leap from the vehicle but deep-down she knew she couldn't live in the past. 

Midway home the time machine began sputtering badly, finally dying. The date on the dash read 2020. Beth looked to the heavens and screamed, "No, not now! Oh, Kronos, why have you forsaken me?"  Inspired, she began singing Eddie Money's 'I Wanna Go Back', desperately needing Bobbi Sue's comforting arms around her one more time.

The techs at Time Share were able to solve the problem. The Flux capacitor kicked in giving all the fluxing of a lifetime. Arriving at the terminal Beth saw Lenore standing there smiling, a lovely rose bouquet and a Petsmart bag in her strong hands. 

The roses flooded Beth's heart with sorrowful memories, but Lenore deserved her happy face.

And that's what she got! Beth suddenly realized time really does heal all wounds. She rushed to Lenore as if they had been apart for a hundred years.