Ellen convulsed in sobbing but made no sound. Kathy softly cooed comfort to Ellen. Kathy looked back and forth at Bob, Sandy and the top of Ellen's he...d, smiling sadly. Bob and Sandy both nodded encouragement. After a good cry, Ellen made to release their embrace. Kathy resisted, instead pulling her face back to peer into Ellen's. Kathy's hands moved to the sides of Ellen's face. They gazed into each other's eyes for a time. Kathy drew Ellen in for a kiss. When their lips were close, Kathy. Yes! Yes! Yes!” she called and then, ‘I’m cummin! I’m cummin! She squeals as the pleasure ripped through her shuddering body!That is Tarzan’s cue. Still holding her by the hips, with the next stroke, he rams the last few inches of his donkey cock into her, up to the hilt! That just makes her shudder and shake even more as her orgasm continued. Tarzan is really fucking her now, working up to his on orgasm. He is moving a good half of his 9-inch shaft in and out her with every length, his groin. We rode to within a few metres of the perimeter and tied our horses up and proceeded on foot, the Whites were clearly visible, their shining white uniforms glowing in the moonlight, within minutes we had determined where they all were and silently and undetected we scaled the perimeter and we were in! We made our way to the girl soldiers quarters, a crude wooden hut in a dark damp corner, as the Captain I went in first I slowly opened the door and crept in. The room was in darkness and there. I bristled, but then grinned. The trout were no doubt laughing, too. Fishing conjures up visions of calm serenity; of early mornings on the lake with waters like a mirror whose only purpose was to reflect the glory of the gathering dawn. An afternoon at the beach laughing among friends while keeping a steady hand on the pole and an eye on the line. A sunset-filled evening by the pond as the day quiets in time with the lazy bobber nodding drowsily among the reeds. Fly fishing is more like.