A Coffee

"Well, all right," said Miranda. "But not for too long, else Dan is going to wonder where I am."

"Not to worry," said Michael and he led her outside to the Lamborghini he had parked there. It wasn't the current year's model, but it was still certainly a beauty. "The car isn't mine. I'm just borrowing it from a buddy who owed me a favour."

"Oh, your car's nicer than this?" asked Miranda.

"Hardly," laughed Michael and the two drove off to the local hotel. It wasn't the nicest looking building, but in Miranda's small town, it was the best they had. Thankfully, it also afforded the two of them privacy. By the time they entered Michael's hotel room, they were already passionately kissing, making up for the decades they had spent apart from each other.

Michael locked the door behind him and immediately got back to kissing Miranda, grabbing mounds of her large bubble butt like it was dough and he just couldn't get enough. The two of them quickly disrobed and Miranda looked down. Nope. Whatever **** Michael had done in his sports career had done nothing to the size of his rod.

"Oh dear," said Michael. "It looks like I forgot to make the coffee."