They tried to convince Roger Whitney that God was white, too, just because supposedly his son was white. To which Roger replied, ‘I’m white and my...son is black!’ That was funny as hell! I hope that it’s a girl, though,” Aunt Molly laughed hard as we dried off.“Why is that?” I asked her bluntly.“So when she turns fourteen, you guys can bed the fuck out of her, too! You, Curtis, and any other men in our group. I would like to see her bred and often, too. If it’s a boy, though, I won’t mind riding. We’ve elected to stroll along the water’s edge and let the waves rush over and around our feet. The wind blowing in off the ocean occasionally catches the crest of a breaking wave and sprays our naked bodies with a fine, cooling mist, and fills our nostrils with the fresh, briny fragrance of the sea. The sun, the wind, the water, all tease and tickle our exposed skin. The physical sensations we feel add to the anticipation of what we will be free to do once we reach The Dunes. Kissed by the sun. More

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