She’s a cashier at a coffee shop. I went in and we were friendly with each other. We’d had that instant magnetic connection. I made it a weekly stop every week on the same day and build a rapport. I became a regular with every visit we get to know each other better.
There was just something about those blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. It was always unkempt and thrown up into a messy ponytail. As if she was rushing every morning to get in early and unlock the store. She wore those lightweight t shirts that outlined her curves and what kind of bras she wore.
I’d notice her eye color and imagine how her eyes look at me after we both came in each other’s arms. I’d notice how her hips swayed as she walked to the counter. As we talked about each other’s weekend and what we did with our spouses, I’d take note of her breasts while I maintained eye contact. I’d fantasize holding her hips from behind as I thrust strong and deep, and she held onto that counter that she takes my order at. I’d pay and we’d throw in a couple flirty compliments to each other as I leave.