The Serataron

The great disease dragged on and on. I decided it was time to take an action: I repaired with my girlfriend to her father's mansion. It was a large, lovely estate with an extra cottage at one end. Private, and secured by large hedges, it gave us ample time to walk and allowed us an unheard of privacy.

For provisions, we enlisted the help of a twenty-two year old named Tom. He spent his days making sure we had the food we needed, lots of drinks, and anything we should desire.

I move my father and mother with me into the cottage. With them, the whole estate held only these people: myself, my girlfriend Haley, her father Jack, her mother Lisa, my father Peter, and my Mother Marie. We also allowed Tom, when not engaged in his duties, to join us.

Convention dictates that I describe them, but literature tells me it is better to allow you to view them as you wish. I might see Haley one way, but you might view her, due to her actions, as completely different in your own minds eye.

For the first week, we went about our daily live, rarely interacting with each other.

The second week, everyone seemed to keep bumping into each other, annoying each other.

So it was Haley who suggested the stress relief. We would each night meet around a fire and tell stories. When it was nice out, the stories would be told around an outside campfire. When it rained we repaired indoors.

And this lasted for a week before the annoyance with one another continued.

That is, until my father said, "we need better stories."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"Sex stories," my father said.

I was shocked. Haley blushed. I couldn't tell how either of our moms felt. They sat silently.

"Perhaps it will relieve the tension," my dad continued. He looked straight a me-- it scared me, I must admit. "What do you think son?"

"I guess," I said, "we might as well try it. We don't want to keep getting angry at each other as we're here."

"So," Haley said, "we just need to decide who will tell the first story."