Damn, this girl is really pretty. Which means she’s dating some guy in a band. Some guy with a job. Some guy with a smaller nose and a bigger dick. Some guy who is more confident. Some guy who would go talk to her at a party. Or perhaps this selfsame coffee shop. She sits there reading wishing a not bad looking guy would talk to her and one day one of them did and now he’s dating her. Listening to her discuss her boring schoolbooks, yes, but also fucking her. White skin black hair. Like she ought to be in a Frazetta painting wrapped around some barbarian’s thighs as he lofts a claymore over a dragon’s corpse, its eyes still glowing. Her fingers digging into the meat of your back. She notices the mass you have added to your rear deltoids. A tough muscle to isolate but you took care to hit it hard and now she notices. Her sweaty pussy on a hot day. She’s maybe 24. Young enough to have that glow, but an adult. Someone has her. Not you. You should have bought an amp and got in a band. Whatever. Her shoes are stupid.