“Boy, what are you doing here so early?”“Mistress Amélie wishes to go for a drive, Master Heathcoate,” Gérard answered. “Despite the rain,” he added, “or perhaps because of it.” He glanced at the sky. “I’m told it will stop shortly, is that true?” Heathcoate gave a shrug as if to state the obvious—who knew what the weather would do at any particular moment? “Wherever Amélie goes, Sandrine accompanies her. That was her father’s one specific instruction to us before we departed the island.”If Master Heathcoate had his own opinions about the wisdom of this he kept them to himself, and waved the three off as they left in their carriage.The rain stopped before they were hardly out of town and the sun appeared through the clouds. When it did, the wet leaves of the trees, those few leaves that remained, dripped from the night’s rain. The road was mud. All three wore boots but there would be plenty to clean on their return to Oxford.Gérard’s easy handling of the horses meant he had plenty of. There is no doubting my intentions, all women who come here, come for sex, as do the local Spaniards, even in old age these men can get erections to please even the youngest of girls, that I know from experience, my memory drifting back to my sixteenth birthday, the day my parents released me to venture out into the dunes on my own, and within a short time after I lay down, I was surrounded by older men, and celebrating my coming of womanhood, my initiation to the joys of free sex.The area was still deserted, and I scanned the horizon for any lone figures to approach, I was desperate to be taken, to struggle and say no, to feel their need for me overtake their sense of respect and decency, feel them force their way inside me and encourage others to do the same.Spreading my towel I realized I needed to be patient, so I oiled my skin to protect myself from the burning rays, but also put a glow and a sheen on myself, my nipples clearly showing my need, hard little protuberances,.
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