Ill Cum For Coffee And Run Away

True chronicles of a not so model mom -- I'll cum (for a coffee) and run away

"I'll come for a coffee but then have to run away."

In the end, what was already an extremely reduced haiku, without too much effort, could have been further reduced to a total of fourteen letters, "I cum... and run away."

They had been writing to each other for barely a day, but already Minerva had her intentions on overdrive. It was that photo, the one that he had cleverly put on display on the same erotic website where she used to spend her nights (and a good part of her days as well). All she could think about was that athletic, powerful body, not a strand of fat, just many, really many muscles.

And so, following on from message after message after message, things had suddenly accelerated. It had all come together in perfect unison. That he lived just fifteen kilometers from her home, gave an element of convenience. That her husband happened to be away on those days, gave opportunity. That her house was free of children and other troublemakers in the mornings, gave privacy. Put them together, and that had become the decisive move.

"Would you like to come to see me this Friday morning?" Minerva wrote in one of her messages.

The positive answer arrived within a few minutes. That was only the start and the very next day, like a proverbial rolling ball, things gathered speed.

"I have a little break from work before lunch time, are you interested in seeing me?" he wrote.

This time, it was Minerva who immediately answered "yes."

Suddenly she had purpose and, before she knew it, half of the morning had already passed Minerva by. She'd spent it choosing an appropriate dress, all the time with an ache in her loins, and a very wet pussy. She couldn't resist playing with herself, such was the excitement of the upcoming meeting. Minerva did not spare her fingers from constantly lingering between her legs, and her nipples, normally always protruding behind the t-shirt, were harder than usual.

"What shall I wear?"

She had spent almost an hour pondering the same. In the end, she had opted for a light blue floral dress that made her look like a little girl, instead of the woman in her early forties that she truly was, albeit a woman who could still attract the stares of many men. A woman, a wife, a mother who, in the past few years, had managed to add several scalps to her own belt while she innocently played the role of the devoted housewife.

It was almost time for him to arrive when she received another text message.

"Shit, I got a sudden commitment at the office, but I'm already halfway on the way to you and would really like to meet you."

"Do whatever you like," Minerva had replied, disappointed and already imagining the worst scenario.

"I'll come for coffee and run away," he replied.

His journey was slow, winding his way through the fields towards a small village hidden on the border between Veneto, Lombardy, and Emilia-Romagna. From the moment he pulled into the courtyard though, events seemed to happen at breakneck speed, so fast that Minerva could barely comprehend.

Minerva did not have even time to open the door. Her visitor just rushed into her living room. He did not even say good morning to her, but simply picked her up, turned her around and slammed her down on her back on the living room table. That same wooden table that had so many times hosted the dinners of her family, relatives, children, friends, suddenly became the center of their first time.

Minerva did not even notice when her panties were pulled down, but soon after she became very aware indeed, of his cock, his huge manly sword, that, in one stroke, sank deep into her already wet sex. He was vigorous. He was powerful. He was commanding.

Minerva just lay there, allowing herself to be taken, enjoying the feelings in her aching sex. He slowed down, his last few strokes becoming labored. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock from her pussy, and in a single movement pulled Minerva up, turned her around and bent her over the end of the table, her front resting on the table top. Once more, he turned his attention to her pussy, plunging his cock within her warm tight walls, then picking up an increasingly vigorous rhythm.

She found herself at the mercy of that cock, relentlessly plunging in and out of her. Minerva was like his prey, his hands pinning her down and crushing her body firmly against the table. There was nothing she could do. The thrusts came, one after the other, harder, and harder.

"You're a slut, nothing but a slut."

His words were spoken against the undertone of carnal rhythm. They were the first words he had spoken since he had entered, both into the house but also inside her.

He gave a few more strokes, then a couple of spanks on her ass that she barely registered. Lost in her reverie, Minerva felt him stiffen. Her eyes ran for a moment to the unopened condom pouch that was laying on the table just inches from her face.

'Fuck,' she thought.

He gave another sharp slap that made her scream, then he pulled his cock out of her pussy, leaving a vacuum between her legs. With a guttural noise, he shot his pleasure on her back, spurts of cum reaching her shoulder and covering her ass.

"I'll see you some more, tomorrow," he said, fumbling with his pants and rearranging his cock.

Minerva was a prisoner in her own world, dazed, unable to respond, the echoes of his orgasm still making her shake. She heard the front door close, but it took her a few more moments before coming back to her reality... destroyed and sticky.

If Minerva had to choose two adjectives to define her status in that moment, those would have been the appropriate adjectives. She stood up again. She felt her pleasure dripping between her legs, her blue dress framed with beads of cum stuck to her back, her head still spinning.

"You're a slut."

Those words echoed in her head and gave Minerva a sense of euphoric lightness.

"Yes, I am," she answered herself smugly, then slowly walked toward the bathroom.

Her pussy was still open and wet. She could feel the cum which coated her ass starting to dry and pulling at her skin. She glanced at her phone. There was a new message.

"Thank you for the coffee."

She smiled. She looked at the washing machine. That dress would need cleaning.