She almost never said a word. Her eyes and her smiles did most of the talking. Her face and body only changed a little bit, often to adopt some feature of whomever I was currently fantasizing about. Sometimes she was a stranger that I had just met and couldn't resist, but other times it was clear that we had been friends and lovers forever. My shrink had offered the guess that Dream Girl was based on my perception of the girl that my mother was before I was born. It seemed like cliché pop psychology, but Dream Girl almost always had my mother's red hair, freckles, slender build, and green eyes. Her chin, lips, and nose usually resembled my father's boy face, which I had seen only in photographs. Perhaps Dream Girl was the combined beauty of both parents, but carnal desire awoke every time she visited me. As I became comfortable with my bisexuality, my visits with Dream Girl would last longer, and the intimacy would go much further. This time, I had my hand between the legs of a. Perfect for a walk or a run. Fluffy cumulus clouds dotting the sky as the sun drifts in and out behind them. But it's a weekday and not a lot of people out and around.You see them sitting on the park bench as you come around a bend in the running and cycling path. Two young people, late teens. Laughing and giggling. They see you and settle down as you see her hand swiftly jerk away from his crotch. What are they up to? As you slow down a bit you take in that they are dressed for the weather. He's got on jogging shorts and a t-shirt while she's wearing a short, kicky skirt showing gorgeous legs. Perky tits under a thin blouse. You love pretty legs.But you jog along the trail past them and they begin making muffled laughing sounds. You move around another bend in the pathway.You stop on the path and glance back, just seeing them slightly. His arm is around her as you pass out of their sight. You wonder. A little slap and tickle, and smiles. Anything more? Right out here in public? That.
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