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So Tony turned down a back route home. It was further, but the traffic was much lighter. As soon as they were one a single lane route, Helen leaned as close as she could while staying in her seatbelt. Fixing him with another wickedly sexual look, she began rubbing the wet spot that was slowly spreading across the bulging area in the front of his jeans.He gasped. "God, if you want to get home in one piece you'd better stop that. I can't see straight to drive."She giggled and removed her hand, with a naughty girl caught out expression.The pressure was nearly killing him. His balls were aching and his dick was jammed hard against the denim. If he didn't get out of these damned jeans soon, they were going to cause irreparable damage.Seeing his strained expression, Helen regretted pushing him quite this far and wondered if her next planned act would ease or worsen the situation. She decided it would all be for the good, in the long run anyway.Once again she reached across to Tony's. She had a bit of a shock on her face, ‘Those birds aren’t in our area. The Indigo Bunting is. It would be a fluke to see one of the other two. An accidental bird, a stray. The Indigo Bunting is a fairly common bird. They come to bird feeders all through southern Ontario. Just not mine. Or when I had one. Nor have I ever seen one while on a hike.’ ‘So the hunt is on.’ ‘Absolutely,’ she said with a smile, ‘we are hunting for Bunting.’ Within about three paces she said, ‘Oh look, Goldfinch.’ She did it again. What I couldn’t figure out was how she would see the birds before I could. I was watching too. Actively trying. It was weird. It was as if she was conjuring up the birds. ‘You can tell by their song,’ she said smiling. I didn’t even ask a question. I didn’t even formulate one in my mind. There was something very weird with that lady. ‘Every species has a song which is as unique as their feathers,’ she said and then she added, ‘your Peterson guide will give you at least a clue of.
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