The Inheritance Paradox
Copyright© 2026 by aroslav
Chapter 33 (Eugene’s Story)
Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 33 (Eugene’s Story) - A gripping tale of time travel, family secrets, and redemption. Nathaniel Holbrook uncovers his father’s extraordinary past, spanning centuries and shaping humanity’s future, while confronting profound truths about legacy, love, and identity. A thought-provoking journey through time, history, and the enduring bonds of family.
Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Historical Time Travel
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” Lynn asked in alarm when they met for their Saturday afternoon date. She petted the singed stubble of his hair. Eugene had shaved his face clean rather than have a gray mustache.
“I ... uh ... burned my hair. It was an accident. You know. Lighting a space heater.”
“But you aren’t burned! Just your hair. You were gone again?”
“Three years,” Eugene whispered. “I’m not going back, Lynn. I can’t take it any longer. The pain of leaving is just too much to bear—even when I am longing to be back here with you.”
“Is it a choice?” she asked.
“It has to be. I can’t do it anymore! If he catches me up again, I will simply close my eyes, sit down, and wait to die.”
“But if you die there...” she left the conclusion unspoken. “Guru Ma Mahama says it is not unheard of for people to bear the trauma of a past life regression into their present life. I don’t know if he meant the physical aspects, though. What will help you through this time, my love?”
Eugene told her the whole story as they sat together in a park near their apartment building. It was the end of May, just like when he’d discovered the fire in 1866.
“I think ... I need to prove to myself it was all a dream. I need to go to Ann Arbor.”
That will be interesting.
Their date the next week was strange. They met Saturday morning and drove to Ann Arbor try to check records of a marriage. Eugene quickly gave up on that, as he’d been married in Cincinnati. They drove around, aimlessly for a while, but Eugene found little that was familiar. He couldn’t find the location of the orphanage, and none was listed in the telephone book. Of course, many orphanages in the country had ceased operation in the thirties and forties.
It was Sarah who suggested they look in the cemetery to see if he was buried there. In the cemetery office, there was a kind of card catalog of the people who were buried there, cross-referenced by lot number and date of burial.
“She might not be buried here. She could have moved to a different city once I disappeared. Perhaps she got remarried. This is a senseless search,” Eugene muttered. The closer they were to a possible record, the more he felt he should leave and abandon the search. He nearly ran from the building when Lynn stopped him.
“Here! Sarah Holbrook. Died 1918. Oh, Eugene! Just sixty-two years ago. Avenue R, Lot 132.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Let her rest in peace,” Eugene panted. “What business do I have digging up the past? If she’s real ... If she was really ... It wouldn’t be a dream or a meditation. Lynn, I am so sorry to have been unfaithful to you for the past year. With ... so many. If it’s all real, I don’t deserve to be with you at all. Please. Let’s leave. Let’s leave her a dream.”
Calm down. You’ll frighten the girl away.
“But don’t you see, Eugene? If it is real, you’ve spent your past lives trying to save humanity.”
“Past lives?” he gasped. “How can I call them past lives?”
“Even if you have only just remembered them, they were a hundred years ago or more. Most people would be thrilled to see an independent verification of their past life regression.”
“Verifying that I had forty or fifty children with at least thirty abandoned women?”
Lynn took Eugene’s hand and a map of the cemetery to pace out the distance to Avenue R and then to Lot 132. Eugene stumbled along with his eyes half-closed until she came to a stop and pulled him to his knees.
“Look! Look!”
It was a polished stone, not one of the old worn markers of the pioneers’ section. In front of it was a bronze marker, weathered and discolored with age. The star shape seemed strange because one point of the star was pointed downward and two upward. It seemed upside down. Various symbols decorated the points of the star. Eugene recognized some of them—crossed sabers and crossed muskets. A circle circumscribed a star on which was impressed, “Grand Army of the Republic 1861-1866.” On the underside of the circle was simply the word “Nurse.” The picture in the center of the marker showed a woman kneeling over the bed of a wounded man.
Eugene’s eyes moved reluctantly to the stone, already knowing what he would see. “Sarah Gilland Holbrook 1843-1918. Beloved of E.W.” Next to her inscription was a second inscription, though they had found no record of Eugene in the cemetery catalog. “E.W. Holbrook 9-18-49. Taken from us 5-15-66. In my heart forever.”
The wail from Eugene’s lips was unexpected by either him or Lynn. He collapsed on the grave weeping. Lynn comforted him the best she could.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. It was a long time ago. I still love you,” she said.
“It was just last week!” he cried. “I held her and my daughters in my arms just a week ago. What kind of man am I?”
I wouldn’t have said this a year ago, but I think you are a good man, Eugene.
Lynn took control of their date after Eugene’s breakdown at Sarah’s grave. She understood a little. She’d often traveled to other planes in her meditation and knew a little about the disorientation that sometimes followed. She’d become very good at guiding others through their meditations. Guru Ma Mahama had often turned that part of their gatherings over to her.
Until the sex thing. Certainly, Lynn wasn’t opposed to sex. This was 1980 after all, not the Middle Ages. But when she’d turned her guru down, he’d declared that she was too distracting to continue at the ashram. He’d made it clear that she would not be as distracting if she was having sex with him. Lynn didn’t like the transactional aspect of that.
On the other hand, sex with Eugene had somehow become tied to his ending his time travel meditation. She was getting a little impatient. Perhaps instead of waiting for his past life regressions to end in order to have sex, he was really waiting for sex in order to end his past life regressions. If he couldn’t end them, it was up to her.
“We’ll relax for a while and have a nice dinner,” she said. “Why don’t we drive around a little. You know Ann Arbor from the 1800s. Let’s see what changed.”
“You are so kind and peaceful,” Eugene said. “I love you, Lynn.”
“And I love you. This evening, I will guide you in a meditation that will end your regressions.”
“Oh, dear heavens!” Eugene breathed. “That’s it. That’s the house I built in 1863. It’s been added onto and is in poor repair, but that is my house!”
“Really?” Lynn asked. “Take down the info on the sign. It doesn’t say ‘for sale.’ What does it say?”
“Tax repossession. Call the office of the County Clerk for information.”
“It looks pretty run down,” she said. “Is it making you sad to see it in this condition?”
“Oddly, no. I have memories, of course, but the house itself is different. It’s like seeing someone you haven’t seen in many years. Does that make sense? Seeing Sarah’s grave was like having someone I knew just a week ago suddenly taken from me. But this old house has just aged.”
“That’s good, Eugene. It shows you are gaining perspective,” Lynn said. “I could see us living here. I suppose they want a fortune for it, and it would cost a lot to fix up, but it’s a nice idea.”
“I’ll call the county clerk’s office and see what the price is.”
Severance pay. Wells owes you.
Lynn’s soothing voice continued through dinner, and she arranged to sit beside him in a booth at the restaurant where she could touch him throughout the meal. She painted a picture of the two of them living together and raising a family. He drifted into a fantasy.
Back at the apartment building, she pushed him toward his own little apartment instead of her door. He was initially disappointed, but she followed him right into the apartment. Looking around, she noted Eugene continued to lead a rather Spartan life. A single bed, a comfortable chair. A kitchen table with two chairs. A television. Eugene’s clothes were neatly hung or in drawers. The kitchen had essentials for cooking on top of the stove. There was no oven.
“Now, take off your shoes and just sit on the edge of the bed,” Lynn instructed, removing her own shoes. “I’ll talk you through a breathing exercise that will purge your spirit. Just relax and follow my voice. I’ll rub your shoulders a bit as we talk. You’ll relax in no time at all.”
Even I’m relaxed. I thought it was just because she was boring.
Lynn’s voice was soothing and Eugene found himself relaxing into her touch, not even noticing as she removed his shirt and T-shirt. She traced a scar on his back where he’d fallen from a horse. It must have been in the eighteenth century. He leaned back into Lynn’s arms until they were both lying on the narrow bed. They turned until they were facing each other and he discovered Lynn had also lost her blouse, though she still wore a bra.
And then they kissed.
Soon, their embrace turned from mutual support to passion.
“Lynn, honey, we’re ... we should...”
“We should continue what we’ve started,” she said. “Come to me, my love.”
The last articles of clothing fell away as they squirmed on the bed until they were completely naked. Then she pulled him between her legs.
Eugene kissed her tenderly and she guided him into her depths, the two joining together as though they’d never been nor would ever be apart. Their passion rose until they’d both peaked. As they lay in the afterglow of their first sexual experience together, kissing and petting each other, Eugene finally found his voice.
“My love, why? I swear I will always be faithful to you, but why choose this moment for us to be together?”
“I guess it is just my way of saying ‘yes.’ Yes, I will marry you.”
“I am the happiest man on earth.” In those words, he was able to accept that his love of Sarah was real, but it was a hundred years previous.
“I plan to keep you that way.”
Lynn lay awake long after Eugene dozed off in her arms. She thought she would bring him to her apartment next, where she had a double bed. She was certainly not going to let him go now that they had consummated their love.
She lay, stroking his head and the stubble that had grown since his return the previous week. Then Eugene disappeared from her arms.
She was jolted to alertness by the sudden change, but a second later, he was back in her arms again. She prodded him to be sure he was really there and he turned to kiss her again. She returned his kisses fervently and soon, they were connected again.
It was real. His time travel was more than a past life regression. He left and then returned.
“No! I can’t be here! Lynn is sleeping with me. She’ll know I was gone! I promised to quit traveling,” Eugene declared as he sat up naked in the chair of the LBT.
“She’ll never know you were gone,” Wells said. “I wouldn’t have chosen this path. Galahad brought you here. No harm, I suppose. So, you want to quit.”
“I must quit. I have committed to Lynn. I will not cheat on her.”
None of the others count.
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