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.
