You know it's wrong to stare, but you can't help yourself. She was wearing baggy tattered jeans that had at least four different kinds of stains and a... equally baggy grey sweatshirt with a large pizza stain on the stomach. Her hair seemed grimy and was mostly tied back into a ponytail, but a dozen wisps had escaped and stuck at various angles. And to top it off, an ink blot resided on her nose. When I saw her she was standing over a table in the library. The table was scattered with bound. She was too far gone now for anything else to happen.And then in a voice that was strange, detached, she breathed out her answer to him; breathed out words which caused Mason's prick to throb intensely in his pants and dribble excited seminal emissions from its swollen glans, words which were at once distinctly alien and impossibly exciting on her lips and in her ears, words brought about by many things not the least of which was a strange awakening of sexual desire wrought intrinsically by her. More

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