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Her second incident is more depraved than the first.

A heavy shotgun rested comfortably in the crook of a brawny arm that handled the weight with ease.

He was a good six and a half feet tall and was, by no means, a small-boned man. Plenty of meat on this man, most of it gristle. It was obvious that he didn't run his empire from behind a desk but with constant supervision at the top of unfinished skyscrapers. He had a rough-looking, squarish, florid face that probably had seen more of its share of barroom brawls, and he was bald, although the thick, dark hair on his forearms suggested that only his head was hairless.

"You comin' or not? Is that him then?" Joe Morton had turned his gaze on me, and I felt myself shuddering at the power in his voice and gaze.

"Yes, Joe. We'll be right out as soon as I swing by the kitchen and get the cooler. And yes, this is Gabe. I told you I'd bring him. Gabe, my stepfather, Joe. It's all fine, Joe. It's a go, we'll be right down."

I helped Shawn carry the cooler, which was pretty heavy with beer bottles in addition to a picnic lunch, down to the water. Joe had picked out a grassy place under trees with broadly reaching branches overhanging the water, where there was little verge between land and water, just a drop of a couple of inches. Not much in the way of sea vegetation on the margin right here either, although not far in either direction, tall grasses and cattails marked a transition zone of marshy land. There was a pier going a good fifty feet out into the water from here too, with a fair-sized boat house at the end, so it appeared that this was where the family moored their boats and they probably periodically had the water dredged in this strip of land. We were just around a bend of trees from a line of sight from the house.

We might as well have been the only three people on earth in this isolated spot on the remote Pamlico Peninsula. It was the height of the afternoon, and I could see sails far out in the Pamlico Sound, but certainly no one was able to see us.

We were shaded here under the low branches of the trees. The ground was mossy and soft. Shawn threw out a large blanket, plunked the large cooler in the middle of that, and started pulling out sandwiches and beer. The sandwiches were great, but the free-flowing beer was even better. Shawn and Joe were drinking Bud, but Shawn insisted that I drink my favorite, Corona, which he said he'd brought especially for me.

Eventually, Joe went off to do his hunting, and Shawn and I began to make out on the blanket.

The beer was going to my head. I must have drunk more of them than I thought I was. It wasn't long before I was pretty woozy and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and in a blue haze.

Shawn was being unusually amorous, and I did nothing to stop him. He'd said we'd finally fuck for the first time in my room in the house, but if he took me here and now, that certainly was fine with me.

We were naked and Shawn was sitting on the blanket, facing the water. He had pulled me down to where I was sitting, facing him, on his thighs, with my legs straddling his hips. We were kissing and he had a hand wrapped around both of our dicks, holding them together, and was stroking them slowly. We were both hard as a rock and I was panting for him, pining for him to take me at long last.

We'd never done this before, and I loved it. I loved it even more when he pushed me down on my back along his legs and lifted my pelvis up to his face and was giving me head. I moaned and groaned for him, and he kept playing my cock until I spouted for him too. We'd certainly never done that before.

I was in a daze. I had no idea how we had changed position so that I was bent over the cooler on my belly, my buttocks presenting, ready for the plowing, but there we were. And Shawn was on his knees behind me, and his hands were spreading my cheeks and his tongue was at my asshole.

I writhed and sighed and grunted for him.

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