I squirmed on the picnic table. My hips wiggled from side to side as my brother sucked and nibbled on my clit. He fluttered my piercing around with hi...s tongue. The gold, threaded through my bud, stimulated my nerves from the inside. My cunt clenched. My body bucked. I gasped and moaned. I couldn't take much more of this. His fingers gripped my ass. He massaged them as his sucking on my clit detonated little sparks inside of me. Little fireworks.A tease of the main show.“Oh, yes, yes, Clint!” I. "It seems those two are coming to blows in just a moment," he confided to Monique over his drink. He was watching two men violently shaking their fists at each other."Oh, no. Not the French, it's just that we use our hands a lot like the Italians," Monique laughed, "they are just discussing whether or not it will rain tomorrow."He laughed with her, now understanding why he thought he had seen so many "almost" fights in Paris but never the real thing."They'll scream and shake their fists until. Er? I stuttered. “My name is Esme. I won’t bore you with all the others. You sure you don’t want a job, I need a cow man,” she said pointedly. It was a dream job n a way thinking of Daisy and maybe other tasty milkers. “Thanks but I am sorted, but again I’d love to. I’m a city bloke you know, in security. It’s nice to get down here and relax, see Carl, do brother stuff and...” “Come with me,” Esme beckoned me with a haughty, crooking forefinger. We went past a sumptuously furnished sitting room. ‘I’m forgiving you, Dad. I have to go on with my life now.’ There was nothing else to say. It was harder than I had ever imagined it would be to let go of that letter, to face the fear that without anger to hold me together, I wouldn’t know how to define myself. Anger at him, at them, had fueled me for so long, I was afraid I would disappear without it, as though its weight didn’t hold me back but kept me grounded in this world. I lingered for a moment, remembering all the night he had come in.