bettelheim

VON BETTELHEIM RIDES AGAIN

A fictional Tail of Tales of Consanguinity

By Izzy Ess of Grand Vitesse

Sir Samuel von Bettelheim was proud of his collection of antique pistols.  He did spend a lot of time with them, just oiling them and checking all their sights for accuracy.  He would aim at a brass spittoon and fire the blunted bullets into them and hear them splat as they hit the bottom well enforced plate that he had placed inside the brass spittoons in June’s great celebration of the Fest of Marriages, when the marriages were free and could be forced by any woman who had eyes for any man.  In fact, Sir Samuel was ogled by his sister and she insisted on the marriage that was free and celebrated each and every June.  Some neighbours looked askance at this but since Milord von Bettelheim was very rich and very eccentric, his kith and kin and neighbours turned the other cheek and just watched the other marriages, that day, in June.  Sir Samuel put up his sister-wife in Effingham where Effing was promoted over everything and he and she behaved like any couple who were newlyweds.  Sir Samuel was not convinced that sex was better than his firing of his pistols and just oiling and adjusting them, but he was game and made his sister very happy with his target practice in her private parts.  He fired at least twice when e’er he shot his load into her and she popped off, often and exceeded her ultimate goals of at least a dozen times each night.  In fact, she was so fertile and excitable that she was impregnated by at least a dozen sperm each time and had a set of triplets in the following cold February.  Sir Samuel and all his kith and kin and neighbours were amazed at his potency.  Some had come to him for impregnation and he was happy to comply.  Milady Konstanz Effingham, now von Bettelheim, did not mind her Laird just effing everyone one who pleaded with him to take a shot or two within them, but she wanted her fair share of effing, and she got her dozen pops, each and every night.  Sir Samuel, at times, felt tired but he was powerful and had a lot of stamina and staying power.  He improved each month and so did all his target practice with his antique guns.

All was peachy keen until Sir Samuel did miss the brass spittoon one day and bounced a speeding bullet off the ceiling and the steel partition in his private den.  The bullet hit him in the gonads and slowed him down, tremendously.  He had to shun a dozen women who had come for servicing and impregnation in one week and even shunned his sister-wife a dozen times before she stopped her nagging for some sex.  The bullet in his balls could not be safely extricated and the doctor had to leave the wound to heal itself.  The lead in that small bullet turned to gold inside him but he didn’t realize his fortune or his talent for converting lead to gold with his special alchemy, until the day he died when the coroner dug out the gold and whispered in his dead ear that he was a natural at alchemy.

Milady Effingham was free to leave her injured husband-brother and to seek another man.  She found the brother of Sir Samuel, the Lord of Birmingham compatible with her when she did lay with him.  His potency was not as strong as was Sir Samuel’s, but it was real good for her.  Her latest brother-husband, Winfred Rochester, the third, in line for Laird of Effingham, became the Laird of Effingham when her Sir Samuel did die.  Milady Effingham did not her name change, nor her residence, and she trained Sir Winfred to get her to pop off two dozen times, at least, each and every night.  She did become quite pregnant and presented her new brother-husband with a set of triplet girls, who matched her triplet boys, exactly as predicted by the author of this fiction tale of tail.  At all official functions of the town of Effingham, her sets of triplets were so admired, the ladies of the town began to plead with Winfred to make babies with them.  He refused and claimed his loyalty to his own sister-wife, fore’er and e’er.  This pleased, immensely, Lady Effingham who doubled all her efforts just to please her brother-husband, the Laird of Effingham.  The other ladies of the town were disappointed but soon found a potent stable boy to satisfy their every need.  The stable boy had apoplexy and he died at 22 but left instructions for his dad the Master of the Stables to pitch in for everyone.  He did and did the rounds just every day, just pleasing every lady of the town of Effingham.  Then all the Effing was performed with stamina and style and everyone was truly happy.

THE END

© izzy sommers, md

Welland, Canada

13/13/13

AS IF THERE WERE SUCH A DATE…