On the way to the library.

Some miles later, I was outside a bustling city plaza. I walked a little further, passing by the local library. Two girls were situated in front, by the steps. I decided to introduce myself.

"Take off your shoes." Neither had the time to spot me coming up to them. I silently instructed them to ignore my presence.

The brunette tossed her flip-flops away.

The blonde chucked both sneakers off her feet. Both did so without a word.

"Talk to each other about yourselves in explicitly crass, sexually demeaning ways."

"Hey Tiff," the brunette spoke up, "my tits and ass cheeks got some meat, wouldn't you say?"

The blonde shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I guess. Have you been staying on that carribean diet?"

"Mediterranean. And no, I dropped that a few weeks ago. Missed the chicken."

Tiffany laughed. "Of course you did. I should go fuck some chickens. I'm still a virgin. Did you know that? My cherry hasn't been popped. I'm a tight-pussied virgie."

"Tiffany, I'm pretty sure the only thing you've ever fucked was your fingers. Do you clean your pussy on the reg? You should, you know. Guys don't want trashy dick chutes to put their horndog dicks in."

"I do, for the most part. How about you Em?"

"Always." Emma winked, then turned around, suddenly. "Sheesh, by the way, my ass looks good in tight blue jeans."

"You've got such a round butt girl. So fat, so mm-mm-mm."

Smiling, Emma turned her body back around. "I like to keep it nice and bubbly, fit too. I bet you could bounce 'em cheeks better than a soccer ball."

"Bet I can," Tiffany agreed. "Maybe I should eat you out. Your ass, I mean."

"I'd like that."

"Me too. You know, you should sit on my face. Fart on it. Shit and piss on it and everything."

"Yeah," snickered Emma, eyes suddenly lighting up. "I'll treat you like pure dogshit, Tiff. You'll be a floormat. You'd be no more than, than a dirty, used-up rag. I'll reduce you to the fucking bimbo bitch you are. Stupid fucking bimbo bitch. You're a bitch, Tiff. That's all you are. A stupid. Ass. Bitch."

Tiffany flashed a toothy smile. "Aww. Eeemmmm!"

The two devolved into a warm embrace, exchanging big-hearted giggles as I quietly made them slip their hands underneath each other's pants to squeeze a handful of the other girl's ass cheek with their delicate fingers.

After a second of that, I had them return to normal, and gave them back their shoes. As they discussed something about a church retreat or something or the other, I proceeded towards the mouth of the library, where a very thin, bespectacled woman was seated, her nose in a book. She had on a dress that covered her body from collarbone to shin.

Sitting beside her, a minute or so passed between us, one of naught but serene silence.

"Excuse me."

I turned to see she had looked up from her book. Leaning towards me, she lowered her voice, but not by much.

"Would you like me to raise this dress?" she asked. A sliver of sunlight bounced off the right lens of her glasses.

"Why would I? Why would you?"

Time for thought was spared before she promptly replied with, "To show you some more of these legs. They aren't too bad, for a 37-year-old. I may not run marathons, but I keep them smooth, groomed. No hair. My thighs are--wait, do you like them?"

"Like what?"

"You know -- women's thighs."

"Yes, sometimes."

"Splendid! Because I have a pretty good pair hiding under here," the woman cooed. "The way they look in proportion to my lower legs and the rest of my body is quite fetching due to my deceptively slender bodyshape. You should take pictures of them to masturbate to later before you go to bed tonight. I absolutely would love to pose for you if it meant you'd jerk off to my legs." She gently patted the back of my hand, "I mean it."

I gave her a small smile and withdrew my hand. "Thanks. But no, I'm fine. Show your legs to that gentleman by the field over there. When he asks, allow him to sniff any part of your body, whatever part he likes the most."

"You know..." For a moment, her eyes glazed over in thought. "...I think that's exactly what I'll do." Closing her book, the bespectacled lady got up and smiled back at me, dress swishing across the backs of her legs. "Well, I'll see you later. Have a swell one!"

As she trounced away to a grinder-scarfing, balding man a few meters away, the modest sliver of soft leg visible from below her dress glistening under the sun, I rose from the bench and headed into the library.

'Swell', huh? Swell word, that.