Your parents

You're still stunned and alarmed at what is conceivably a **** sentence, and the fact that you just loss your virginity to a nurse, when Doctor Schultz stands up and allows your parents, John D. Mason, Sr. and Eliza, to enter.

"Ma! Pa!" you arise quickly, hoping they do not hear about your activity with Frieda.

"He has just finished ejaculating within my daughter, and is momentarily cured." There goes that plan. Wait, daughter?!

Your mother kisses you on the cheek. "I am so happy to hear that the Doctor's theory is correct and we can end these horrible headaches once and for all. After going over your stories, the ones you had hidden under the bed, he has several treatment ideas and I agreed to assist in any manner available."

To explain, for many years you have written several stories, disguising them as a personal diary, in which you had sexual intercourse with friends, family, strangers, and historical celebrities. Sometimes these stories took on an absurd quality by having people not even acknowledge you as you took full advantage of them in broad daylight, on busy streets, in church, at schools, anywhere that fits your fancy.

That your mother had read these stories, she being a participant in several of them, feared you with dread. Not only would you die from lack of sex, but you would be a homeless beggar, cast out onto the street as an incestuous pervert.

It was the bug man, himself, your father, who saw you sweating and panicking. "Relax, boy, good writing will you make you a good journalist," your father was Editor-in-Chief of the local press, and was pushing you to follow in his footsteps as a newspaper man. "Everyone has written obscene stuff, although maybe not that obscene, but it's all related to the disease mind, and can be excused. Celebrated even!"

You weren't sure what they were getting at, but it was still somewhat calming. "That is why," Schultz began, "I proposed a second eighteenth birthday party, much more populated than your first a few weeks ago, where you can explore these ideas with close friends and family."

Your mother interrupted. "We know you don't have many friends, Johnnie, so we invited your sisters' friends and women from the local college, as well as neighbors and even Margaret and Henrietta to the House this afternoon. We explained what the Doctor said to us, and they all agreed that you may use them, or me, for your pleasure like in the stories you wrote."

You fainted.

You awoke several hours later in a daze. You were in the backseat of your father's Model T, exiting the city on the way back to Rockton and your home. Your mother holds you as you get your bearings in the bumpy car ride.

"Where?" Your pants are undone. You look at your mother in horror.

"I hope you don't mind, Johnnie, I took you in my mouth while you were out. Frieda showed me a technique. It was an interesting experience."

Your father interrupted from the front seat. "I may have your mother demonstrate on me later," he laughed. "It looked fun!" This was life now.

Your mother felt your forehead as the car pushed its way through some puddles. "The laudanum should be out of your system now. Doctor Schultz said it was unnecessary from here on out."

You knew it. You knew you had no headache. You knew you were in better health than ever before. And your mother has already broken the greatest taboo you ever thought of, so might as well hop on board.

"Ma?"

"Yes," she said, eagerly anticipating the next statement.

"I want you to have sex with me."

The Model T was open-air. It was a dry busy day outside of Rockton, Ohio as many cars passed by. Your father honked the air-horn and waved at townsfolk, who waved back at the celebrated newspaper man.

In the backseat, your mother pushed you down, and everyone could see as she removed your pants. She undid her bodice, exposing her breasts put up by an old-fashioned corset. Her dress wa everywhere, but she managed to pull it up enough to allow access. She had no undergarments.

You were aroused by the audacity of it all. You could see everyone, and they could see it all. You were at full staff, as your mother engulfed you in her thick black region. The aroma percolating from her was intoxicating. She smiled at you, a loving, maternal smile happy to give you what you needed.

Eliza McCandless was the daughter of a rancher and former stockbroker who had been hit hard by the panic of 1893. He was living off of the last of a long fortune when childless widower, and 32-year-old newspaper fortune heir John D. Mason approached him with an offer. A $1000 "brideprice" was given, and at 16, Eliza had married "Big John". She had given birth to Eloise the next year, and you and your sister Eleanor two years after that.

She had never really known loving sex, seeing it as another wifely duty. Yet, with her son, giving him what he wants was more than a duty. More than a chore. It was life itself, and she could never object.

Rocking up and down, her breasts free in the wind, a bustling, growing town around them, her brown hair unfettered from its placement, blowing in the wind, Eliza felt something within her, other than your penis. Something she had never felt before, other than your penis.

It was perfection. It was joy. It was rhythm. It was more. She screamed out for all to hear as you, almost in shock, released your seed in your awaiting mother.

"Alright, lovebirds. Home sweet home," said Pa as he looked back at the scene of his wife's first infidelity. He smiled and parked the car.