Then she said some stuff in Spanish and I went even harder than before! I could feel myself starting to perspire on my forehead and on my chest. I str...ked Leilani’s legs as I pushed myself all the way inside her, then pulled out halfway, then thrust all the way back inside. I pulled out and picked her up. She quickly grabbed the camera as I walked her over to my desk. I knocked off the random objects I had up there and set Leilani down, bending her over it, exposing her beautiful ass. I. “I have to go now.””Well,” I said slowly. “I can watch...” and, instead of finishing the sentence, I gestured to Molly’s bike lying on its side along the bike trail.”You can watch me pee?” Molly said, barely smiling.”No, I meant your b...” I began, but Molly interrupted me. ”I know some guys are into that.””Oh well,” I stammered. “That’s usually not my thing but...””You still want to, don’t you?” she interrupted again.I gasped and laughed and tried to act offended or at least surprised. “I. When the clips were empty all the rounds were in the bull’s eye; not a nice pattern, but in the eye.“Why didn’t you tell us you were near sighted?” I asked.“We weren’t until after the eye surgery,” Ellen replied.“All three of you, what eye surgery?” I asked.“Ambassador Woodman insisted we all be blue eyed and blond. He forced us to go to a doctor down there who changed our eye color but left us nearsighted,” Ellen replied.“He threatened to have us fired; he had made videos of us and threatened. Elles sont trés belles!" repeated the young man who stood above her as she sat cross-legged by the edge of the jetty."I speak English, you know," said Marla with a smile. The young man's French accent was truly execrable. He was slim, with baggy khaki shorts that came nearly to his knees, open-toed sandals, and a tee-shirt that celebrated the Pacha nightclub in Ibiza."You do? I thought you might be French or Belgian or summat." Not Moroccan?" No. Not Moroccan. You don't look Moroccan. Where.