. He willed his feathers to collapse back into their sheaths, knowing that she didn’t understand the meaning of his pink coloration, but feeling emb...rrassed all the same. He spoke up, his high-pitched, tinny voice carrying through the trees.“H-Hello,” he said, hoping that she spoke English. She cocked her head again, her hanging skin swaying with the motion, then raised a hand in what looked like a greeting. Good, she seemed to have understood. “My name is Tepin’chi’atli,” he continued, waiting. Neither of us wanted a man to be invading out special space although both of us were agreeable to male attentions in certain social events where such interaction was almost required.Only the previous Saturday night, I had attended a new popular film featuring a young female star with a tendency to lose her clothing quite often in strange circumstances. I had enjoyed it immensely and was not put off by my "date" running his hand up under my short skirt and fumbling about with my labia like a. More

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