[ WP ] Time travelling tourists from the future are commonplace at significant historical events . You get home and find time travellers watching you for an unknown reason .

*Six weeks, and finally the house was going to be empty tonight - for only four hours, but that should be enough, * I thought as I raced home from work. 
 
 My phone beeped with a text - Jessica, saying `` We r leaving 4 the game now, Caroline is coming'' - *perfect, * I thought with glee, suppressing my annoyance at the phone speak I told Jessica not to use with me - *and Jimmy already said his game started. Nothing can stop us now! * 
 
 Then, another text - from my lovely wife. `` Where are you? I've rung you on skype twice now. It's cruel to keep me waiting like this, especially now that I've unwrapped your present; ).'' 
 
 My heart beat a quick tattoo, but I was driving, so I did n't respond. *Just this last turn signal, * I thought, and my house was in view - then, I was pulling in the driveway, passing by the sign our daughter painted - `` *The Morrison's*,'' with a little flower - opening up the door to our house, throwing off my tie, and then - staring at the people standing in my dining room, a mix of adults and teenagers, the latter of whom glanced up briefly, then return their attention to weird, futuristic-looking phones. 
 
 `` Uh...'' I said, emotions oscillating quickly between excitement for my wife and the sudden shock of these people, `` what the hell?'' 
 
 A man from the group stepped forward, and a holographic name-tag appeared above his head, written in a font that somehow managed to bastardize comic sans. `` Hi! ``, said'Jeremy' amicably, as if everything was perfectly fine, `` I'd appreciate it if you could just ignore us. Everything is perfectly fine.'' 
 
 I'd heard of this before -'nostalgia vacations,' they called them, people popping in from the future, but ironically completely apathetic to the situation - like tourists brainlessly watching beasts. The news was rife with stories about how they were impossible to get rid of. *But certainly*, I thought, *they must have gotten the time or place wrong* - and that's what I told them. 
 
 `` Oh,'' said Jeremy, turning to wink at the crowd behind him, `` I think we're at the right spot.'' The crowd giggled confidentially, covering their mouths like schoolgirls saying'penis' for the first time, and the occasional person stealing a glance at me. 
 
 *I ca n't deal with this right now, * I thought, my sexual excitement moving from being antsy to nearly overwhelming me, *I* ***need*** *to be upstairs. * 
 
 `` Listen,'' I said, `` If you *stay downstairs*'' - emphasizing the last two words - `` I'm fine with you sticking around long enough to realize that you're in the wrong spot, though I'd rather you do it sooner than later.'' 
 
 I turned to rush up the stairs, but the manners my mother instilled upon me suddenly popped into my head, and I turned in Pavlovian response - `` there are glasses in the cupboard over there, if anyone is thirsty for some water.'' I kicked myself for being an idiot, then ran upstairs. 
 
 My wife answered the skype call on the first ring, and then she was there, right across from me on the 42'' tv we used for such occasions, the skyline of Shanghai glowing into the early morning behind her. 
 
 `` Have you got it connected to the internet, yet,'' I asked in short breaths. 
 
 `` Yes,'' she said, `` it's blinking orange now,'' and she held up the flesh-colored, 3-d printed, mechanized dildo that was a perfect imitation of my penis, and filled with micro-motors all of my design. I held up my side of the connection - a print with much the same idea, but designed to her gender and beautiful shape - and pressed a button. The LED on my toy lit up green, and a few seconds later, I saw the LED on hers do the same. 
 
 It was absolutely fantastic. It was n't like being with her, of course, but it was so much better than what we had been forced to do before - stare at each other, miles away by plane but only inches by digital phone, wishing we could just reach that extra inch out of the television and hold each other. I quickly forgot about our guests, completely absorbed in her - and that's truly what it felt like, *in* her. 
 
 As we both climaxed, I heard cheers from downstairs. A few seconds later, my wife jumped on the screen, her cheeks somehow reddening more. `` What the hell is that?'' 
 
 `` Uh, I said, freaking out, `` I'm going to go now honey, I think I heard someone downstairs!'' I hung up, threw on jeans, and ran downstairs, where I found a giant holographic display of my room projected on our dinner table, my'device' still sitting on my bed. 
 
 `` And there you have it,'' Jeremy was saying, `` the use of the very first Morrison teledildonics device! Of course, this was just a prototype - and not a very large one,'' ( the crowd giggled ), `` but that concludes our tour.'' 
 
 `` WHAT THE HELL?!'' I yelled, as the crowd began to vaporize, Star-Trek style. 
 
 `` There will be refreshments and toys^at^the^bar,'' I heard Jeremy saying, and then they were gone. 
 
 On my table, I saw a card that had been left behind. `Morrison Dildonics`, said the card, with a flower and an older man's face on it - a *familiar* older man's face. I shuddered momentarily as the realization hit. *Did I just pimp out myself? *
