On Thursday and Friday I had made eye contact with her and we'd both smiled at each other in recognition. I finally gathered the courage to ask for her name."Cheryl" she told me with a bright little smile. "I've seen you here lots. What's yours?" she boldly asked."I'm Star" I said. I saw her about to laugh. "I know, it's a funny name. My parents were hippies, what can I say?" I love your name!" she exclaimed with a giggle that sent shivers up and down my body.With the introductions over she sat down beside me and we talked. I told her I was a social worker and my office was only two blocks away. I explained that I worked with alcoholics and drug addicts, which she seemed to find fascinating. She told me in turn that she had just finished grade 6 and came to the park every noon hour buy a pizza slice and some grapes that she mostly fed to the hungry seagulls. She loved the birds she told me. I found her oddly reluctant to talk much about her home life, so I left that subject. I almost cried, but didn't. I got up, went to the toilet, drank some water and then curled up on my side of the bed, reclaiming my share of the covers. It was over, I thought, I just needed to get through the night, shower, go home, and forget this ever happened...*But it was not quite over.I was having a bizarre dream. Although I don't remember the details, there were many hands, roaming all over me. The hands gradually faded away, except for one around my aching morning glory – my very hard cock. I usually wake up with a strong erection, and often holding it, so this was not unusual. However, as the daylight flooding the room from the gaps around the curtains brought me further into consciousness, I realised both my hands were up by my face. The hand around my cock was larger and rougher than my own.I kept still and my eyes closed, but sleep was receding fast. I was aware now of the hairy skin pressing against my back, and the stirring of my hair at the back of my neck by another's.
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