As for Amélie, she refused the few suitors their small community offered. Father and Grace showed their displeasure but Amélie was immovable. She di...n’t know what she wanted, but she knew she did not want to be the bride of one of the local cloddish sons of another plantation owner.Thus it transpired that Gérard and Amélie celebrated their majority still unmarried and still resident in Father’s house. The following year Gérard would sail for England and the famous Oxford University. Father had. “Who’s your friend?” she whispered into my ear, again loudly enough for Lynton to hear. “Is he coming in?” Charlotte's fingers reached the boundary of my underwear… but kept on going down until she was touching me… and then fingering me. Lynton looked at where Charlotte's knuckles were moving, and then looked me in the eye. He knew exactly what was being done to me. “I know you prefer men, and I don’t mind… sharing you.”The last two words were a breathy impression of Marilyn Monroe’s 'Mr. I felt him get into position behind me and in between my legs when I felt what I thought was his cockhead press against my pulsing asshole. As I felt him surge into me I realized it was not his cock as whatever he was using was stretching me to my limit as he pushed it deep into my ass until he got it in deeper than anything I have taken to this point. I had never been so opened up and fucked so deep that it actually was hurting a bit and I was contemplating putting a stop to it when he leaned. I wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it’s because my childhood was unconventional — I would have been Peter Pan if I had the choice. And the birthday letter from Grandpa made me angry. He strongly disapproved of me living at Trent Park while Caity was back in Wimbledon. Never mind the good I was doing. Never mind that Caity visited me and the kids most weekends. Never mind that she had Dan, Uncle Will and Mrs O’Keef to look after her (not that she needed it with her fiercely independent character). His.