I first saw the humiliation of mom when I accidentally saw my parents fucking in their room, thinking I was not at home. I saw mom on her fours, bendi...g like a slave, butt naked before my dad who rained whip on her asscheks mercilessly and showered abuses on her by calling her” Kutia, sali randi,” and beating her and mom bore it all silently. I felt likew going to my mom to help her but dared not for fear. I was 15 then and stood at 5 fet 6 inches, well framed, nice 36 DD tits. firm ass and. Just like that, with no warning he dropped dead. Of course, I went to the funeral and did what I could to help my sister get through it. And like people do, I said, ?If there?s anything you need, you let me know!? It?s a common thing people say at funerals. It?s sort of expected. You never think you?ll hear from them for help, but it sounds really good; ?Just call me if you need something?. But in this case she did.About 6 months after the funeral Chris called me. She was crying.I answered the. Her days were structured self-care: working out, long walks on the beach, a spin in the boat, sunbathing, cooking good food. Super fit, tall, with long highlighted brown hair, matching eyes, and an all-over tan, she should have been the object of desire for every man, or so inclined woman, in town. But, for the damn Covid.Boredom started to set in around month four. She had a few old friends from high school, and her parents, but without parties or open hangout spots (at least that she felt. She had introduced herself as Rosemary Whitaker, but her card read R. A. Whitaker. The second line read simply District Attorney. The line under it was a phone number. On the rear was a hand written phone number. I assumed it was for emergencies only.After her visit I returned to puttering around the cabin. There just wasn’t enough to keep me busy. I had been looking for something to do. The DA might have just the thing I needed.I went inside the cabin to retrieve the .30 caliber carbine. I had.