Hey! You. Yes, you.

Sorry to bother you like this, out of the blue. You don't know me and I don't know you, and I'm sure you're busy with whatever shit is going on in your life right now, but I'm in quite a bit of a jam here, and I could really use your help.

I just have one quick question for you, if you don't mind, you look like the kind of person who would know. Don't take that the wrong way, consider it a compliment, please. I didn't mean to offend you, it's just that I'm desperate, and I don't have much time.

If you could please answer me this, you'd have saved my life, and I mean that literally;

How do you get rid of cum stains on your suit pants?

Yes, I know, just send it to the dry cleaners, right? But you're not getting the picture here. When I say I don't have much time, I mean I really, really don't have much time. I have, like, ten seconds, maybe a few seconds more, probably a lot less.

Ten seconds is the time it will take my wife to walk from that table over there, to this table over here where I'm sitting, and she just got up and started walking.

Ten seconds is the blink of an eye, my friend, and enough time for a string of heart attacks, so do you know?

I need the stains gone, and the fabric dry.

I also need a calm, innocent smile on the face of a man with a clear conscience, but let me worry about that, I need you to concentrate on the cum stains.

Any home remedies or life hacks? Anything at all?

Sure, I'll explain, but don't lose focus, okay? Keep those little, gray cells busy, we're on a mission from God you and me right now, friend, and the clock is ticking.

You see, my wife's brother, that's the guy over there at the same table as her, the guy with the tuxedo and that ridiculous mustache. The one with the giant bald spot even though he's only twenty-eight? Yeah, that's him.

He just got married.

That statement doesn't come off as shocking as I mean it to, but if you knew the guy, you'd be as flabbergasted as I was.

First of all, he's an asshole, but I'm sure you figured that out just by looking at him. I mean, just look at him. Spent the first twenty-five years of his life in his momma's basement, playing video games and jerking off to Japanese cartoons, and then came up with some dumbass phone app, and abra-fucking-cadabra, he's a millionaire.

Secondly, I always thought he was gay. In fact, I'm still not convinced he's not. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just saying, he's not the first guy that comes to mind when you think bridegroom, husband, or, God forbid, father.

But yeah, he got married, tied the knot just a couple of hours ago. See that woman over there on the right, walking away from this very table?

Yes, the one in the wedding dress, genius, did you figure that out all by yourself?

No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean to be a dick. I'm just stressing out right now, I'm sure you can understand. My wife is halfway here already, and it hasn't even been two seconds.

Wait, look. She stopped to chat with her dad. Good, there's still time. Did you come up with anything yet? No?
Come on, think! There has to be a way.

Okay, so, the bride. She's the cause of this predicament, you see. She's twelve years older than the groom, making her two years younger than me, and two years older than my wife. And she's pretty, isn't she? I mean, not a bombshell, but that smile of hers, that's the kind of smile that would melt any man's heart. It's a smile that says, 'You'd be happy forever with me, I know it and you know it'.

Anyway, about ten minutes ago, everyone at this table got up and left, to do that 'mingle and pretend you want to get to know people' – thing. Everyone but me. I figured I was just going to sit here and enjoy my piece of the wedding cake in peace before I went on a tour of lies, and then she, the bride, came over and sat down on this chair next to me.

I had barely talked with her before, for a second I couldn't even remember her name, but she sat down, smiled, and started to chat like she'd known me forever.

First, the usual bullshit, asking me how I was doing, if was I enjoying myself, and such. And I told her I was, and that it was a great party and had been a beautiful wedding and she must be so happy and yada-yada-yada.

Then a moment of silence where we just sat looking at the people around us, and I guess it should have been awkward, but it wasn't. It was nice. And then she leaned in real close and whispered, asking me if I knew any juicy secrets about anyone. And boy, do I ever.

So I told her a few. She laughed, and I melted. I told her a few more, and she laughed even more and put her hand on my thigh as she did. Which caused a slight stir in my pants, if you know what I mean.

Her hearty laughs caught the attention of a couple nearby, and they came over. I didn't know them, but she clearly did. Standing on the other side of the table, they said hi and congratulated her and went on with the same exact bullshit as I had, and as she talked with them, being the happy, charming, best-day-of-my-life bride, her hand moved from my thigh to the slow-growing bulge in my pants.

Oh, come on, what would you have done? Push her hand away, jump up, and shout 'How dare you?!' with an indignant gasp? Of course you wouldn't, and of course I didn't.

She kept rubbing me, and the slow-growing bulge wasn't slow-growing for long. I was getting hard fast. She gripped it and squeezed it as she moved her hand up and down, while she was talking like it wasn't even a thing, like her hand had a life of its own and she didn't even know what it was doing, and when the couple seemed to be about to wrap up the conversation, she slowly pulled the zipper down and put her hand inside.

The tablecloths they use on these wedding reception things are huge, so I wasn't worried they'd see what was going on, but if they were to take their time to analyze the expression on my face, they would probably catch on. Thankfully they soon left though, just as she was able to get her hand inside my boxers and grab a firm hold of my cock.

Now do you understand? Of course you do, and you know why I need your help. Any ideas? I've heard you can use vinegar, is that true? Not that I have any, but maybe white wine will work too? Nah, you're right, it'll just stain more.

Shit, my wife is done talking to her dad. She's heading this way. Think, goddammit, think!

Then the bride's dad came over, as she was jerking me off. Just when that couple had left, and I was about to tell her to stop, I really was, I swear, but she didn't even look at me. She kept looking around while pulling at my cock, and when she saw her dad, she actually waved him over. Can you believe that?

She let go of my cock when he got to the table, so she could stand up and give him a hug. But when she sat back down, she stuck her hand back in and grabbed it again.

I guess I could have taken that opportunity to zip up and run. You're right, in hindsight that would have been the smart thing to do, but I didn't.

I get it, it was stupid, I've learned my lesson, so just drop the lecture, okay?

Her dad sat down on one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table, and they chatted away. He was crying, telling her how proud he was and how happy he was for her and stuff, more yada-yada-yada, and then she pulled my cock out of my pants.

Like a magic trick, ta-daa, it stood there under the table, big and hard, free as a bird. She kept jerking it, just by moving her wrist up and down, but the rest of her acted like I wasn't even there, leaning on the table with her chin in her other hand, chatting away with her dad.

I tried to go back to eating the cake, just to act nonchalant and be cool, and definitely not get involved in the conversation, but as I bent forward she suddenly gripped it harder and sped up, and I groaned.

I couldn't help it, and of course, her dad looked at me. He frowned, and I panicked, so I gobbled up a huge piece of the cake, and with my mouth full I mumbled something about the cake being delicious.

He just looked at me like I was the most worthless thing he'd ever seen, and then he excused himself and left.

When he was gone, she turned to me and smiled. I opened my mouth to say something, don't ask me what, I have no idea, but she leaned in real close again, stared into my eyes, and all of a sudden her hand went like a piston; fap, fap, fap, and I came. Hard.

I think I was able to control myself quite well, actually. Didn't move at all, just a hissing 'Fuu-huuchk...' through my teeth, but I squirted all over myself, like a fucking fire hose. Like a pathetic teenager getting his first-ever hand job.

And that was it. She let go of it and just let it lie there, like roadkill in its gunk, and then she got up and left.

That was ten seconds ago, and now I'm so screwed. Because there's nothing to do, is there? Here comes the wife, and I'm a dead man, aren't I?

'Cake'? Why do you keep saying 'cake'?

Piece of cake? I can't have my cake and eat it too? What are you trying to say? Are you not taking this seriously, buddy? She's here! Time's up, she right fucking here and I'm done for. Dead. Kaput. May I rest in peace, thanks for nothing, pal.

Oh! Right. The cake. The goddamn cake! Of course. Just accidentally flip the plate over and in my lap, right? Whipped cream and vanilla custard to the rescue, just flip it and stand up real fast.

'Oh, shucks, I'm so clumsy. Ha ha. Gotta go wash off.' Genius. Pure genius. Better a stupid klutz than a cheating bastard, no doubt about that. We'll even get a laugh out of it. It's brilliant.

You're a lifesaver, friend, I really mean that. A guardian angel, a fucking knight in shining armor you are.

Okay, she's here, it's now or never, here goes.

Three... two... one...

Flip!

Stand up!

Everyone's looking. Good.

“Oops! Oh no, honey, look at this. Ha ha, silly me!”

Fucking Oscar-winning performance, if you ask me. Thanks, pal, I owe y... What do you mean I forgot to put my cock back in my pants?