“Build a time machine? Check. Dye my hair blonde? Check. Travel back in time and eat out my eighteen-year-old self? Check. Check. Check-Fucking-Check!” The thoughts shot through her mind in rapid fire.

It had taken Marissa four years since the day she’d met her future self and rode her face to countless orgasms over a few days, to finally build and use the time machine her future self had promised her she’d build.

“So fucking worth it! I think, next, I’ll head to the future and see how thirty-five-year-old me tastes,” she thought.

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(PS - It’s funny because a standard trope in sci-fi about time travel is how the characters figuratively fuck themselves, but here, she literally does it.)