Nothing I could salvage, even with the hardest highest-contrast paper I could find. It was hopeless. I felt like shit. Like failure. Dad wouldn't have... approved, I'm sure of that.Just a fuckup. That's what it felt like and that's what it was. So, no, I didn't cry, but I felt like it. I solved it the way I'd solved so many similar things over the years: I cut it out of my life. I told myself it was because I was bored with it, that I hated darkroom work, that I was only doing it because Dad did. “Well there has been someone watching us and they’re very turned on because of you…” Before she could think about what I was saying too much, I slip my rejuvenated cock from her wet mouth, then sit her up on her knees facing the opposite way this time. The blindfold still over her eyes and those skimpy white knickers that her soaked pussy was practically devouring…Jean was an exchange student from Cameroon. He was about 6’2” slim but toned and very shy. He worked in the bar at the very hotel we. She looked up into the mirror and smiled obscurely, then turned and dropped her robe, then stripped off her panties, turned away so I could only guess at the sight.She then sat on the table facing away from me and swung her leg over him, then raised herself over his hips and slowly impaled herself onto him, teasing me by never turning to let me see her pubis. She settled quickly onto him, somehow enveloping all of his ramrod deep within her, and I stared eagerly, wishing she would lift her. It get weirder?"She faltered and picked up her notebook. "Let me show you," she said, and started flipping through her book. Joey watched carefully as she turned the dozens of hand-written pages, all filled with diagrams and notes and conversations and thoughts and tables. By this time her moonlight weave robes had faded noticeably, and were about half-transparent now, revealing her black clothes underneath. She finally reached two pages with a large table of dates and times, and flipped the.