Quick Excuse When Caught Cheating

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Excuse #1: To tell your husband/boyfriend when caught.
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 06/07/2007
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Quick-Witted Excuse #1: For Females When Caught Cheating

Excuse #1: To tell your husband, boyfriend or significant other when caught cheating.

(The writer claims no responsibility legally, civilly or otherwise should your husband, boyfriend or significant other not believe you and say, "Bullshit!" when you use my Excuse #1 as your excuse.)

I dedicate this story to Jen, my cyber friend from Australia, for inspiring the idea for this story.

We all are caught red-handed with our mouth on someone else's cock, if you are a straight woman or a gay man or your tongue in someone else's pussy, if you are a straight man and or a lesbian woman. Over the years, I have read and reviewed thousands of stories on erotica and all have depicted hot sex between randy participants but not one has offered any excuses to give your lover when you are caught with someone else.

This essay, as a public service to encourage more promiscuous sexuality for everyone, is the product of the exhaustive research that I have done on behalf of women and men everywhere, regardless if they are straight, gay or lesbian. Please, there is no need to thank me, reading, voting, and commenting on this essay is reward enough. Unfortunately, it is too lengthy a project to post all of my 101 excuses for women and all of my 101 excuses for men, so I have chosen my first, not necessarily my best, excuse for women to use when caught cheating. I will post more if the voting and comments warrant that I make a trip to the secret archives and dust off my world renowned essays of excuses.

Below is a typical scenario where a woman chances the risk of being caught for the sake of some hot sex with a stranger, albeit a new found cyber friend.

You met someone on line and discover that he lives not far from you. You exchange a barrage of e-mails that grows more sexually explicit as he grows bolder and you grow more daring. You exchange a fully clothe photo of yourself taken at your best friend's wedding before you gained the few extra pounds. You like this photo because you just had your hair cut and colored and it shows that you have really big tits and long shapely legs beneath your low cut and very short dress. You exchange another photo of your dog and/or cat before you exchange a more scathing photo of you semi-naked sitting on the bed with a blanket partially wrapped around your mid-section to cover your C-section scar but that shows one of your breasts fully exposed. Now, he wants to meet you.

Reluctantly, at first, but excitedly later, as you ponder the meeting, you agree to meet him at Starbucks. He is much younger than you and you want to appear younger. You wear your white peasant blouse with a front snapping bra beneath and your dark brown skirt, the shortest skirt that you have. It comes to mid-thigh and, when you sit, it rises very erotically without any help from you. Now, to complete your outfit, you slide on sheer, French cut panties.

It is an innocent meeting for coffee and conversation, only he is 23 and you are forty something. Still, you want to make a good impression by looking gorgeously hot and seductively sexy because this may be your one last hurrah before sedately heading in to middle-aged boredom with your husband of 25 years. When you finally meet your hot albeit very young cyber friend in person, he reminds you of your son and you cannot go through with it. Still, you are polite and remain in his company a respectable amount of time before making your excuse to leave.

He walks you out to where his car is parked next to your car in the dimly lit, private, and deserted underground garage. He holds open his passenger side door inviting you to sit in his car and talk a minute before you leave him forever. You are horny and disappointed that it did not work out and perceive that he is lonely. Being the polite, matronly woman that you are, you agree to sit and talk. Even though, you suddenly feel so old in his company, you are enormously flattered that he is obviously attracted to you, even after meeting you in person.

Then, he tells you how much you remind him of his mother and how he has always been so very hot for his mom. He tells you how he spies on his mother when she undresses and has photos of her naked. Only, instead of turning you on, the conversation turns you off. With a hand on his door handle, you take your leave. Only, he asks for a kiss on the cheek before you go, so that he can have an imprint of your ruby red lip gloss on his face as a visual memory to remind him of you later when he is alone in his room and feeling horny. You lean over to kiss him but he quickly turns his head at the very last moment and kisses you full on the lips. Wide-eyed with embarrassment at first, you slowly relinquish your lips to his and close your eyes imagining you are with another, someone more your age. His tongue finds your tongue and, with his hand behind your neck, he prolongs the kiss.

You have not been kissed with such passion in a very long time and it feels good and awakens your juices below. At first, his kiss evokes memories of lost loves. Then, his kiss blanks your mind and you forget where you are and what you are doing. You continue the kiss now forgetting any memory that he reminds you of your son. Before you can resist, you are making out like horny teenagers, only you are more than two decades older than your innocent, young man.

While kissing you and before you realize it, he has his left hand on your right breast and is fingering the imprint that your erect nipple makes through the cotton material of your blouse and the satin lace of your bra. Slowly, he pulls your blouse down over your shoulder exposing your bra. Deftly, he reaches his fingers in front of your now exposed bra and unsnaps it. As your bra, inhibitions, and resistance slowly falls away, your tits fall freely to the delight of his talented fingers. It has been so long since someone has felt and caressed your breasts and fingered your nipples and you are thoroughly enjoying it. His right hand slowly makes its way up your shapely thigh and up your skirt; gradually he pulls down your panty. You part your legs in anticipation of his touch while returning his warm, wet kisses. He touches you where you have not been touched in so long that you cannot remember the last time that you felt a man's fingers inside you feeling your clit and fucking you with his long, stiff and nimble fingers.

Meanwhile, somehow, stealthily, he has unzipped himself and has taken out his erect member. Suddenly, you wonder how many hands this guy has. The shadow of his exposed cock catches your eye and you look down. It is so long, so thick, and so hard, it looks like a small baseball bat. He has a beautiful cock. Again, you cannot remember the last time you have seen such a cock as the one that stands so proudly naked before you. You cannot remove your eyes from it; you stare at it. You want to touch it, take it in your hand and wrap your fingers tightly around it, and devour it with your lips, mouth, and tongue but you are afraid to go beyond the point of no return. He is so very young, after all, and you are, well, older, more mature, and should know better than to fool around with this boy of a man.

Fortunately, you have the willpower of a mother who has experienced childbirth twice with the self-sacrifice of pre-natal dietary care and you are a woman who has quit smoking and dieted a thousand times. A somewhat, faithful wife, most times until recently, you are able to, somehow, resist this horny male stud so full of lust, desire, and testosterone. In an unsuccessful attempt to make him stop, with the straight arm of a football receiver thwarting the tackle of a lineman, you push against his chest with your palm firmly pressed against the shiny, silk fabric of his green shirt. Your hand slips and continues to slide down the length of his torso landing squarely on his upraised and pulsating cock. Again, you raise your hand in an effort to dissuade his sexual advances but, the fabric of his shirt is so very slippery and again, your hand slips and slides down the length of his torso landing on his ever so waiting and ready cock. Faster and faster, you repeat the process until, without realizing it, in your effort to stop him, you are jerking him off.

Then, a huge horsefly the size of a small bird flies into the car and buzzes around your head and in an effort to avoid being bitten, you duck down screaming, as this huge, mutated monster of a fly dive bombs and buzzes you, apparently, attracted to the scent of your perfume and/or hairspray. In his brave but feeble attempt to capture the bug with his hand and evict him from his car, the young man lunges his body forward and upward at the same time that you duck your head forward and downward. Accidentally, of course, he impales your open mouth with his long, thick, hard cock.

It all happens so quickly and it is all such a very innocent accident, of course, yet, you, a well mannered woman, do not want to appear rude and talk with your mouth full and reject a meal when offered, so you take all of him in your mouth. He, of course, enjoys this surprise oral demonstration of your sudden x-rated friendship and begins to show you his excited and grateful appreciation by humping your mouth at a feverish pace. While you are enjoying the fond and vivid memory of having a hard cock in your mouth, again, after so many years of abstinence, he cups both of your tits in his hands and plays with your hard nipples making your pussy swell with moistness and your libido pulse with desire for him. You are too weak to resist and he is too determined and forceful a lover. With his cock still in your mouth and your fear that the fly is still flying overhead, so you stay down low, very low.

"I love playing with your nipples while you blow me," he says.

The sound of his voice and his sudden, shocking statement breaks the silence of your dream like state knocking you from dream world to reality and back to the interior of his car, a 9-year-old, faded red Honda Civic. Suddenly, it occurs to you that you are not having a fond memory, a dream or even need to be as polite as you have been. Instead, you are being wickedly slutty, lustfully horny, and, in truth, are actually blowing the young man. You blame the new hormone medication for this sudden disturbing lewd behavior.

You did not think what you were doing was giving him a blow job. You truly thought you were having a menopause moment, a hot flash of an erotic, sexy dream that truly seemed so real because, unfortunately, it was real. You thought and convinced your conscience and self-conscience self to believe, that you were just being polite and, if you will, friendly in sitting in his car to chat for a moment. Besides, you justified, you were just trying to avoid a horse of a fly, after all. Yes, that is the story that you will tell your husband should he catch you sucking off this 23-year-old child. Indeed, you are old enough to be his mother and should be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of the boy. What is wrong with you?

All of this is going through your mind as you are sucking him off. Then, you realize that, after all of this, the hot e-mails, the exchange of photos, the preparation in showering, shaving, taking the time to choose the appropriate sexy outfit, dressing, and meeting him, finally, that he only wanted you for a blow job. How dare he? Now, you feel cheap and dirty and ashamed. How could he?

You try to push away and release his big, hard cock from your mouth to reject him and to tell him thank you, but no thank you. Yet, every time you move your head up, he pushes your head back down in his lap and your mouth back on his cock. You try to avoid the pressure of his push with the speed and force of the lift of your head. Faster and faster, you raise your head only to have it pushed down faster and faster until, again, quite by accident, you are giving him the best damn blow job that he has ever had in his young life and that you have ever given in your forty-something years.

Then, it happens and, unfortunately, you are too late to pull away. He explodes a huge load of warm, gooey cum in your mouth. You try to pull away but he puts a hand to the back of your head forcing your head down while raising his pelvis up and pushing his cock deeper in your mouth and down your throat. You swallow all of him before he releases you.

Without so much as a thank you or a good-bye, it was nice to meet you and I am sorry that it did not work out; he reaches across you, unlatches his car door, and says while pushing you with a strong and forceful straight arm, "Get out!"

You fall to the garage's concrete floor and he just misses your hand with his rear tire, as he peels rubber driving away.

You feel so used and so abused. You are angry. You are ashamed. You are disheveled. You pound the pavement with your hand and with your foot. You start crying, woefully weeping, and sobbing into your hands that cover your face from the embarrassment and the mortification of being used and taken advantage like this. There you are totally exposed, your blouse pulled down around your waist with your huge tits and erect nipples out of your top and on public display, your dress pulled up around your waist with your panties down to your ankles and your knees splayed, and your trimmed pussy wide open for anyone's inspection that happens along.

Suddenly, you hear an engine and a car pulls into the space next to where you are sitting on the pavement and, quickly, you pull yourself together. You pull up your panty, close your legs, pull down your skirt, snap your bra, pull up your top, wipe your eyes, and brush back your hair with your hands. Has he returned to apologize? Well, you will, certainly, tell him a thing or two. Who the Hell does he think he is?

A man alights from his car, looks down, and with extended arm offers you his hand. You look up and smile at your husband.

"What happened to you, Honey?"

"A fly."

It is the perfect excuse for you because he knows your fearful aversion to insects, especially flying insects. He totally believes you when you tell him that, while trying to get in your car, you were attacked by the biggest and meanest horsefly that you have ever seen. You are off free with Freddie's excuse #1, the quick-witted excuse to tell when caught cheating.

Please, there is no need to thank me and to send me a check for payment. A mere vote and comment to this essay is all that I ask in return for the use of this excuse.

Please watch this space for more helpful quick-witted excuses to tell your lover when caught red-handed with someone else.

  • COMMENTS
15 Comments
OverthefallsOverthefallsover 8 years ago
Even for fiction that was bad

Were you trying for humor? Not sure. But this was beyond silly. Just plain bad.

49greg49gregover 8 years ago
Cute

I love the way things slip further and further with innocent, sort of, intent. Until .... Very well done.

NexttimeroundNexttimeroundover 8 years ago
Love it

... surprised there aren't more comments;, this is clearly a variant of "it's not what you think dear!" It's well written and very amusing.

betrayedbylovebetrayedbyloveover 9 years ago
Lousy

A cheater doesn't deserve the love of a faithful spouse.

RonRWoodRonRWoodover 14 years ago
Very good

I am somewhat perplexed why you do not want a vote but this one was great! It covered a lot of the reasons why an older woman would want to stray and it covered all the realities of the actual results of such behavior. Then too, it was hilarious as it did not involve all the normal excuses a cheater has on this site... It deserved ten stars!

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