Deciding that you can't wait to get acquainted with your new self, you look around and see nothing but sand and more sand for miles. Perfect, not another soul was around, well, with the exception of your camel, but they didn't really count.
You pull your arms into the robe and start to shimmy out of it when it gets stuck at the collar. Pulling it down you realize that you were wearing some a cloth wrapped around your head and draped over your neck and shoulders. You pull it off and run your hands through your hair. It was much thicker and the curls much tighter than your own limp, mousy brown waves. You toss the headpiece aside and easily slip out of the robe. You throw it down onto the sand and look down.
You're surprised to find that the robe was the only thing you'd been wearing. You stare in awe at your toned torso, running your hands down your chest, playing with the abundant hair, slipping your fingers down the slight abs and around to clasp your firm ass. In between your long legs, among a bristly bush of black curls, hung a large, dark, circumcised, dick. You wrap one of your large hands around it and fondle it. Switching between tickling your sizable balls and gently tugging on your member, all the while your free hand explored every nook and cranny of your body.
You weren't gay, well, you didn't think you were, but there was something utterly hypnotizing about your body. The rich, brown skin glistening in the bright desert sun.
You ran your hands down the inside of your thighs, relishing in the tickling feeling of brushing against your leg hairs. And then returned your attention to your now throbbing member. You started pumping your arm, running your other hand up your torso, rubbing your beard, and finally running it through your thick curls. The feeling of being this man was completely intoxicating.
You arc your back and curl your toes as you reach climax, hot white cum spilling onto the hot golden sand. Breathing heavily, you wipe the sweat of your brow and crack a smile as you slip the robe and headdress back on.
Your head now clear, you remember your grandfathers pocket watch. You pat yourself down before realizing that you have no pockets and turn to the camel. Digging through the cargo, you come to the conclusion that you must be some sort of merchant. among some randomly assorted goods you see it glistening in the strong sunlight. You pick it out and open the clasp. Your thick eyebrows knit together in conclusion, the hands are stopped. You feel panic start to creep in, how where you going to get back to your own time? To your own body? But then you remembered Grandpa Milo's letter, he'd mentioned that the watch wold have rest in between "trips" for a couple of days.
You slip the pocket watch into a smaller compartment where you feel it'll be safer, grab the camel's rein and without a better option, start trekking toward the town.