tagLetters & TranscriptsMy Moment of Weakness

My Moment of Weakness


The following is an e-mail I sent to a friend about my straying in a moment of weakness.


Dear Susan,

I was freaking out Saturday all day. Your friend getting upset at our misunderstanding set me off, and I was worthless after that, practically bouncing off the walls all day. Bees in the brain is what I call it.

Got ready to go out like I had threatened earlier. Went out to the car two or three times but kept going back inside. Waited for Kate's call until 8:30 and when she finally called from Atlanta or wherever in Georgia she said she was, she wasn't all that cheerful, so I said fuck it and went driving around.

Drove 20 miles and sat in the car outside of some redneck bar for a half hour trying to get the nerve to go in, then I decided I was dressed too nice to go in to a dump like that, so I got back on the road and drive some more, and now I'm almost down near work. I wanted to go where nobody knows my name and I'm trolling around the state capital.

Almost friggin' midnight and I'm usually snoozing by then. I don't know bars anymore, and so I go to this hotel bar that used to be a big night spot back in the 80's. How bad can this be, I figure? Pretty fucking bad. It isn't the 80's anymore, and this place is like a mausoleum. Ever see the movie The Shining? It's like the bar in the hotel, and I'm Jack Nicholson.

Can't be more than 20 people in the whole place, and the world's worst band is playing shitty music loudly. The bar is as long as a football field and there's three people sitting at it. This is my big night out. I order a drink and some greasy dude about my age, wearing a pound of gold chains, reeking of Old Spice hits on me. He's either wearing the world's worst rug or has a barber with a sense of humor.

He tells me that he tried to get over to me faster so he could have bought me a drink. Tough fighting the crowd, I tell him. I say that I'm with the band, and if that didn't put him off nothing would. Nobody in their right mind would be with this band. Three tubby old honkies playing Kool and the Gang don't even get old bag groupies like me. He tells me that if I'm with the band I should get free drinks and after I ignore him for a few minutes he leaves.

I'm ready to fire down my drink and go home, because this is way too much like a lot of bad nights from the past. I was depressed enough when I walked in, and now I'm looking for a rope and someone to help me make a good knot. All of a sudden a guy comes up to me from my other side. I had noticed him before but I though he worked there.

"The years have not been kind to Tony Manero," he says, nodding toward the guy that had just left me. I just about fell off the stool laughing when I finally catch on (that was the character John Travolta played in Saturday Night Fever, FYI) and he sits down next to me. Plenty of room for somebody who can make me laugh in the mood I'm in.

Accountant-type guy that I figured to be around 30 but was probably mid 30's when I got a better look at him. Clean cut, decent looking guy with light brown hair, dressed nicely and doesn't reek of anything. Sad eyes, and looking like he would rather be somewhere else. I know the feeling. Wedding ring too. He isn't waving around but it was there.

Wonderful conversationalist, and that wasn't easy when the damn band started playing again, but he's trying to be nice and it's working. He's looking too. Looking into my blouse, a rust colored satin thing that I left open at the top. In your honor dear, I had nothing underneath it, and with me that has two meanings.

My friend's name is David. What's my name? I blurt out Susan. How funny is that? Especially when he calls me Susan a couple of times and I look at him strangely, forgetting that was going to be my name! My buddy David is looking and I'm getting turned on. I glance down and I realize that the blouse is REALLY open more than I intended. I say, or should I say YELL to David that things around here must be pretty tough if a good looking guy like him wants to talk to me. He says that he thinks I'm an attractive woman and he liked the outfit I was wearing a lot.

I tell him that I knew he had been looking at something but I didn't know it was the clothing, and HE BLUSHES! AND HE HAS DIMPLES!! He apologizes and I laugh it off and tell him that I didn't notice until a minute ago how open it was, and besides it had to take him quite a while to spot what he was looking for.

He assures me that he loved the view and besides, anything more than a mouthful is a waste.

MOUTHFUL??? I thought the saying was that more than a handful was a waste! Mouthful? Shit.

David soon recovers the ground he lost with that remark, and now he's making casual contact... touching the hand, and brushing against me. I don't know what he thinks he's after, but all he has to do is say the word and I'm for it. I am waiting for him to tell me he has a room in this place. He said he was a sales rep for something or other that I couldn't make out because of that damn band. Traveling salesman, please.

I mention that it was getting late, and it was. He says that he was having such fun that he didn't want it to end.

Are you staying here? I ask.

No. Maybe we could go to your place he suggests.

No, that isn't going to happen, but I'm game for his place.

No... ah... hem... haw... um... ur...

"Wife wouldn't like that?" I ask.

Well, no. They are separated but he lives in an room over their garage so he can be with the kids and can afford to give them more money. Really, he says.

Oh well. We talk on our way out to the parking lot. A nice guy, and I'm wet thinking about what might have been. It's freezing out, and he won't stop talking, but I won't stop listening either. Finally he says that if we want to talk some more we can go to his car, which he gestures toward. Said car is over in the back of the fairly empty lot, and he must have started it because I can see it's running.

My car is near by his, and so I walk over with him. It's not a car but one of those mini- truck things; Toyota Matrix or something. He opens the back seat, and at first I look at him funny, but then I see there's a kid's car seat in the front. A FUCKING KID'S CAR SEAT! What do I do? I get in the back seat with the guy, feeling like a pig!

We're in the back seat talking, and then we're making out, and then I'm sweating because the heat is blasting, so the coat comes off. David's hand zips inside the still wide open blouse in seconds, and he's squeezing that HANDFUL with all he's got. I reach down and he's got a hard-on that I didn't have to search a second for. Grope grope grope. How much is a room in this place? There's a Red Roof Inn across the street that has $79.99 in red neon on their sign, and I'm ready to split it with him.

I'm in the back seat with this David. David has a hand inside my blouse and is milking away. I'm rubbing his hard-on through his pants. It's about 15 degrees outside and about 90 inside the car, and I'm dripping all over. The windows are beyond foggy and water is dripping down the inside them. The car stereo is playing softly, and the neon lights of the surrounding building and street provide the lighting. We're about 100 feet from a busy as hell four lane highway, and you can hear car doors opening and closing elsewhere in the lot.

He's a good kisser, and since he bought me 3 drinks inside, I'm going to give him his $21 worth. I unzip the fly and reach in. Nice. He groans and lets go of my tit and undoes his belt and pants, tugging them down before reaching over and dropping half of the back seat down. It doesn't go back down all the way because there is something behind the seat. No time for that crap. I see the cock.

Nice cock. Standard stiff six and a nice thickness, and before he can give me an invitation I'm sprawling across the seat and gobbling his boner. First cock in almost 3 years and it's great. Like riding a bike I guess. You never forget. Great cock for sucking too. Nice smooth skin, smells nice, and his pubes are soft too. Just like mine, I want to say, but we're kinda cramped back here.

Voices from outside. A girl laughing. Are they giggling because they can see us? As long as it isn't a cop I don't care. Imagine that in the paper. "BECKY CAUGHT SUCKING COCK - BABY SEAT EMPTY".

The car doors and the voices from outside are turning me on, and so is my David's moaning and groaning. He's squirming around in the seat, leaning back as far as he can go, and making my hair a mess. I'm sucking the whole thing now, and I want his balls too, but they're tight up against him. Cold? Scared? Too bad, because I love sucking nuts too, as a change of pace.

"Sweet Jesus!" David groans, and for a minute I thought I might have a religious nut on my hands, in which case I would have bolted. No, he's just speaking in tongues, because I have a hunch his wife didn't spend too much time doing what I'm doing when they were together, and if she did she wasn't tickling her tonsils with him like I was.

He's breathing heavy and then starts panting, so I back off a little. Do a little tongue work on the crown. Don't want you cumming too fast, because who knows when I'll be doing this again. LOVE this guy's cock too! One of the greatest cocks ever. I keep bringing him close and then slowing down, and he's going out of his mind. In turn this drives me out of my mind, because I love doing this. He makes it way too easy, because I can easily tell when he's getting ready to cum.

"Oh Susan, this is so good," he moans. That's right! I'm Susan. Forgot again.

"You like?" I ask him as I come up for air, still stroking this dick that I want to take home with me.

"I'm going to have to cum," he says. Duh.

"Your point being?" I ask, and decide he's suffered enough.

I'm slamming my head up and down that cock, and his legs are churning like he's running a race, digging into the floor mat. My hand is digging for those little nuts of his, and they've loosened up for me, so I'm squeezing and pulling at them. He's practically crying... making these whimpering and whining noises.. and his back is arching off the seat... and thar he blows!

Almost choked on the first salvo, which would have embarrassed the hell out of me, but I recover, and as he bucks his hips and spurts into my mouth I have one of my little minis (hard to explain, but I used to have orgasms with guys when they came... not real orgasms but sort of like sticking a fork in the toaster - surges).

My pal David must have been saving this up for awhile, because he's coming like there's no tomorrow, and I'm letting what didn't go down my throat slide out of my mouth and down his dick. Broccoli. Tastes like broccoli, and I'm not a big fan, but I've tasted worse. He stops bucking around and I keep sucking him as he goes limp in my mouth (love that too).

I try and climb back into a sitting position while David babbles. It was fantastic. He couldn't believe it. He wants to make me happy too.

I check out the surroundings. I want something quick. No muss - no fuss. Off comes the skirt and panties and thank goodness I went with the pale legs look instead of the pantyhose. I'm kneeling on the seat beside him while he tries to figure out what I'm doing. So am I. This is all ad-libbing, kiddo.

I take David's hand and put it where I want it. Even in the dim light I could see the look of horror on his face. It's either because it's the hairiest pussy he's ever felt, or the wettest. Maybe a combination of the two. You want to feel wet, check out the panties I just took off, pal. Finger goes in, very tentatively, and I make the sounds that hopefully encourage him.

On my knees beside David, my head is bent up against the roof, so I lean over him. I feel him unbuttoning my blouse and pulling it off my shoulder. Clever boy. Suck that tit while I hump your hand. Tell the boys at work about this next week. "She was humping my fucking hand, so help me!"

He's sucking my tit (Damn that's more than a mouthful but not much more!) and I put my arm around his head and pull him tight.

"Harder," I ask impolitely and he complies, biting and sucking like a pro.

He's fingering away with his left hand, and while I would have liked another finger I'm riding with extra enthusiasm to make up for it. His hand is sliding up my side and he starts rubbing his thumb through my armpit. Bless you dear boy. Soft and silky smooth and all for you. The powdery scent that you stir up as you stroke the slick little hollow tells me the deodorant is still working, so go ahead. Let go of the tit and let your tongue glide around my underarm... I'll cum on the spot, I SWEAR!

Should have asked, but didn't. It was nice enough as it was. I'm humping that hand, and he's sucking and rubbing, and then I'm screaming and cumming. Almost break his hand off at the wrist when I did, but I came.

"Wow Susan, you were so hot when you did that," David said as he tried to get feeling back in his hand. "Do you want to make love?"

You don't make love in a Toyota mini-van, you fuck, but I wasn't going to fuck anybody in a truck.

"I feel guilty enough as it is," I tell him.

"You're married?" he asks.

"Divorced, a long time," I tell him again, but that band WAS loud. "Been seeing somebody for quite a while though," I admit in a moment of honesty.

"He's a lucky guy," David says.

"She," I correct him. "She's a lucky girl."

This revelation drives him crazy, and I should have known better. He tells me how great this is, and I resist the urge to tell him that it isn't always great. The fact that I'm sucking cock in a mini-van in the middle of the night should have been a hint.

"You sure you don't want to make love?" he asks again, and he's got a boner again.

My mouth is dry, and I ask him how old that bottle of water is up in the console. Not old. Cold. Perfect. I give him a going away present. This time I'm all business, sucking that cock like I'm trying to beat the clock. For a brief second I consider climbing up on that beautiful tool of his, but then I reconsider. Bareback? In a van? Get a grip Becky. I get him off with my mouth instead. Not as crazy as the first time, but he didn't complain.

"Is she waiting for you?" David asks as I wash down his load with the rest of the water.

"No, she's halfway across the country," I tell him. "How about the missus? Waiting at the door for your return?"

"No," he said and he glanced at the dashboard clock (3:20!). "She has... company on Saturday nights until 4."


I give him a kiss after I get dressed and hop outside, where it's freezing for real. He waits for me to start my car and then heads off into the night. I spend the next 35 miles driving and thinking, and by the time I get home I'm crying. I'm crying about a guy that has to live in the same house with his ex-wife, and has to stay out while she fucks some dude.

Maybe one of the fringe benefits he gets for staying around the old house for his kid's sake, is getting told things at the breakfast table like, "Daddy, Uncle Barney was here last night and him and Mommy made funny noises when it got late!"

I'm mostly crying about myself, and for what I had done.

The car seat still haunts me for some reason.

There you have it. First time cheating, even if it wasn't for the whole enchilada.

your slutty friend, becca


For Susan, whose constant encouragement, probing and prodding may or may not necessarily make me a better person, but has certainly made me (and my life) more interesting. Thank you, love.

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