The Collector 08

As a guy who loves well-dressed women, I naturally like places and events where women get dressed up. One of my favorites is weddings, and not just because of the clothes and the coiffing. Weddings, aside from being a showcase for both male and female fashion, also have a very sexual electricity about them.

The garter is a perfect example: a young single guy reaching his hands up the dress of a young single girl as the MC dares him to go as far as his nerve will take him. Of course, weddings aren't sexy because of the garter. Quite the opposite. The garter is part of the wedding because weddings revolve around sex.

I don't know exactly why it is. Maybe it's just having a lot of well-dressed people celebrating in a social situation where plenty of alcohol is available. Or it could be a traditional thing, where people imagine they'll meet the person of their dreams at a wedding. Or maybe the romantic aspect of weddings lowers the guard of the women and makes them more accessible (or susceptible) to the men. Whatever it is, some of my favorite blow job journal stories have to do directly with weddings.

This particular incident got started when I went to get a haircut. I go to one of those chain places where you don't need an appointment and they always have a bunch of good looking women stylists. They let you specify who you want to cut your hair, but I like to take the luck of the draw. On this occasion I was a little disappointed, I confess, when I got the older, frumpy stylist. But I'm not complaining. I like leaving things like that to chance because you never know what could happen. This is a perfect example.

Brenda, as I said, was easily ten to fifteen years older than any other stylist in the salon. She was medium height and sort of stocky and wore very baggy, non-descript clothes. Her hair and make-up, naturally, were very nicely done and she had a pretty face, if a little chubby. She had dark brown hair frozen in place with hairspray that stopped above her shoulders. Her eyes were a twinkling bright blue and she had a nice smile. Her clothes made it difficult to tell anything about her body. She clearly had ample breasts, but what was beneath them was hidden. Her shirt was almost comically oversized, hanging down to the middle of her thighs. The bottom of a baggy pair of jogging pants hid the rest of her.

Now I go to this place regularly, so they know me on sight. Whether they actually remember my name, I don't know. I give them my name when I get there and they all wear nametags, so we all talk like we know each other. When I sat down, I joked with her to do a good job because I was getting married this weekend.

"Really?" Brenda asked with wide eyes and a big smile.

"No, just kidding," I confessed. She gave me an "Oh, you!" and swatted playfully at me with her hand towel. As she started cutting my hair, we made small talk. I always enjoy the chattiness of the stylists. I guess if you have to talk to a couple dozen strangers a day, you have to be good at chit-chat. Brenda was no exception.

We went through the usual stuff. She asked me how work was going, what movies I had seen and so on.

"Oops!" Brenda said suddenly.

"Oops?" I echoed? "I hope you didn't mess anything up. My fiancée will shot you!"

"No, no. It's okay," Brenda reassured me. "Are you really getting married?"

"Nope. I'm not even seeing anybody."

"Aagh! That's twice you got me!" She gave me a soft punch in the arm. "Funny you mention it though, 'cause I've got a wedding to go to and I'm really dreading it."

"Really? Why's that?" I asked. I wasn't particularly interested, but the code of small talk requires you ask the questions that you're set up to ask.

"My ex will be there with his new wife," said Brenda with a slight sneer. "She's about half his age. Talk about mid-life crisis."

"So go get yourself a strapping young lad to parade around with," I suggested without really thinking about it.

"Hmmmm, good idea," she replied. "What are you doing a week from Saturday?" She gave a short, nervous laugh, meant to show she was only joking.

"Next Saturday? Hmmm... I might be getting married," I said with a grin.

"Oh, no. I'm not falling for it this time!" Brenda laughed.

"Okay, then I guess I'm not doing anything. What did you have in mind?" Our eyes met in the mirror and I winked at her. Now I really didn't think there was any possibilities in this situation, but I'm so used to constantly flirting, I guess it was just force of habit. Brenda, for her part, wasn't sure if she should take me at face value.

"I wish I did know someone to take," she said. "I'd love to wipe that smug look off his face." She paused for a moment, looked at me in the mirror and shrugged. "Wanna be my date?" she said with another nervous laugh as she resumed cutting my hair.

"Depends," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "Would I have to put out?"

"Yes, preferably with my ex watching," Brenda shot back without missing a beat. We both laughed. We continued to joke about it until she finished cutting my hair. I thanked her for the haircut as I got out of the chair.

"So what time Saturday?" I asked. Now you're probably wondering what the hell I'm doing pushing the issue. After all, she hardly knows me and she probably figures I'm just toying with her. Why would a good looking young guy be interested in going out with her? But I actually was. Why? Several reasons, most of them selfish, as you probably would guess.

First, though I hate to admit to being so predatory, I could sense her vulnerability. It's almost like a scent some women give off. I can't explain it any better than that. Some women have a way of letting men know, with their body language, what they say, what they don't say, that they can be had. Brenda, I could tell, would be easy, uncomplicated prey.

Second, I really do have a thing for older women. Okay, I generally prefer them with sexier bodies, but hey, all I really want is a blow job. Maybe Brenda wasn't my ideal choice, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't want to see her on her knees. Yeah, that makes me a bit of a bastard, I know. But I was already looking at Brenda's lips and wondering how good she was at giving head.

Now there was a less selfish side of me that honestly thought it would be a nice ego boost for Brenda to face her ex with a good looking younger man at her side. Brenda was almost certainly thinking along those lines when she accepted. Yeah, I know I can't pretend this was a good deed sort of thing on my part. I'm a dog and I know it. But it's nice to know that Brenda was being helped, too.

I asked her how she wanted to play it. Was I going to be a just-a-friend date, a friend-wink-wink date or did she want to come off like we were a couple?

"I think I'll just introduce you as my friend, and leave it at that," Brenda decided. "Not knowing will bother him more than anything." She smiled devilishly.

We made arrangements for me to pick Brenda up at the salon and go to the wedding from there. We joked about it for a few more minutes before I left. I took a look back at Brenda as I walked to my car. She wasn't much to look at in her baggy clothes, but something told me she would be on her knees for me soon. I can't say why, but I was willing to bet she gave really good head.

On the day of the wedding I dressed to impress. Not so much for Brenda, at least not directly. But I figured the better I looked, the more jealous her ex would be. And the more jealous he was, the more grateful Brenda would be. Of course, it certainly couldn't hurt my cause if Brenda was a little wowed herself.

When I pulled up to meet Brenda, I almost didn't recognize her. Her hair had been done since I saw her last, and while the style was still similar, her brown hair was now a reddish-brown. She was wearing more makeup than I had ever seen her wear at the salon. In particular I was drawn to how the ruby red lipstick she was wearing made her lips look very full and inviting.

Her blue eyes still had a nervous twinkle about them, but it was hidden somewhat by her mascara. A layer of foundation likewise took years off her appearance. But what really made a difference was how she was dressed. I had only seen her in the tent-like tops she wore to the salon and had assumed that she was pretty thick through the middle. I could see now that that wasn't the case.

Brenda was wearing a tight black evening dress that really showed off her huge breasts. That wasn't the surprising part. What I was expecting was her to be big all the way down, but she wasn't. In her snug fitting dress, Brenda suddenly had a very curvy, if still a bit large, figure. Now I'm not turned off by a woman having a few extra pounds on her, as long as she still has a womanly figure. By that I mean her waistline is thinner than her bust line and hips. In Brenda's case I suspected she was being helped along by some control top undies, but I didn't care. This was much better than I had been expecting. I had to remind myself not to stare, especially at her cleavage, as I got out to open the car door for her.

"Wow," I said as she gave me a peck on the cheek. "You should dress up like this more often. You'd have guys lining to go out with you."

"Not practical," Brenda replied with a smile, clearly enjoying the compliment. "What you don't know is that I had to start getting ready two days ago!" We laughed as we got in the car and drove to the wedding.

The church service was nice and mercifully brief. Brenda kept us to the back, hoping that her ex wouldn't see us before the reception. She insisted we slip away and wait for all the other guests to get to the reception before us as well. I knew she wanted to maximize the shock value by catching her ex off-guard, so I played along.

We stopped at a bar on the way and had a drink to kill time. Brenda was clearly distracted, worrying about whether or not this plan of bringing me as her date would have the desired effect. I tried to reassure her, telling her that after he saw her in that dress, he'd be eating his heart out even if she was there without a date. I could tell she wasn't really believing me, and it's a shame, because I meant it. Brenda was one of those women who could be genuinely sexy if she had more self-confidence. I told her so, but I don't think she was ready to let herself believe it.

When we got to the reception, we got drinks and mingled. Brenda knew at least half the people there and it was a good half hour before we actually came face to face with the dreaded ex.

He was a rather scruffy looking guy, somewhat shorted than me, in a poorly fitting suit with a beer gut and thinning hair. I'll never understand why women let a man's opinion of them matter so much, especially when the guy in question isn't worthy of them in the first place.

Brenda seemed a bit nervous as she introduced me to him and his wife. I was hoping she'd be more nonchalant, but at least she was getting the results she had hoped for. The ex, Doug, I think his name was, started asking her questions right away, right there in front of me and his wife. Actually, it seemed more like an interrogation and there was no mistaking the underlying hostility in his voice. I quickly made an excuse and pulled her away before she could answer him.

"That's the guy you think you need to impress?" I asked her once we were away from him. "Please. And that wife, she may be younger, but she's got nothing on you." That was true. The wife was chubby and moon-faced with greasy hair and a slack-jawed look to her. Her posture was poor and her dress didn't fit her. Brenda might not be a hottie in her own right, but I couldn't imagine anyone picking that wife over her.

"It looks like it's working anyway," replied Brenda with a nervous laugh.

"Maybe," I agreed. "But it shouldn't matter anyway. You're too good for him in the first place."

After the dinner, Brenda and I danced like we were a couple as the ex watched from his seat. I could feel his eyes on us constantly, especially during a slow dance. Twice he went up to Brenda when she was alone and started talking animatedly to her. On both occasions I waited a few minutes and then interrupted, guiding her away.

On the one hand, Brenda was relishing the effect this was having on him. On the other hand, her success seemed to be making her nervous. Fortunately, he and his wife got up and left abruptly, even before the wedding cake had been cut.

Brenda relaxed significantly after he departed. She was almost giddy. When we danced now, she was looking at me, not over her shoulder for him.

"I can't believe it!" she said. "He was pissed! I can't believe how well this worked!"

"Yeah, it worked all right," I agreed. "But it doesn't matter. His opinion shouldn't matter to you anyway. You're sooo too good for him it isn't funny." She pulled me a little closer as we danced.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You're right."

The rest of the night we danced, drank and had fun. Brenda's smile was non-stop, her mood almost deliriously happy. I wasn't sure if it was just because she had one-upped her ex, or if she truly felt the weight of his opinions lifted from her. Whatever it was, she was more than ready to give me the credit for it. And maybe looking to give me something else as well, I hoped.

I had been looking at her all night in that tight black dress, soaking in her big breasts, her ruby lips and her nervous, twinkling eyes. Now Brenda was looking back at me in the same way. She had had her victory over her ex and was ready to celebrate. And lucky for her, I was there to help her.

The ex forgotten now, it was starting to feel more like a real date. There was a different nervousness, a sexually charged one, that was quickly taking over between us. At first Brenda was tentative, afraid that she might scare me away. But once she realized that wasn't the case, that I was flirting back with her, things started to heat up. Brenda was the touchy-feely sort anyway, but now she was leaning on me, grabbing my arm and brushing her sizeable breasts against me in a way that was more than casual.

After the wedding was over and I was driving her back to her car at the salon, she reached over and put her hand on my leg. When I didn't object, she leaned her head against my shoulder and started rubbing my thigh. I thought she might go for it right then, but she didn't. But she must have noticed the stirring in my pants she created.

When we got back to the salon, I pulled around behind the building where she was parked. We started making out almost immediately. Our lips came together in a flurry of kisses as our hands started exploring each other's bodies. I quickly slipped a hand down into the cup of her bra and cradled one of those melon-like breasts in my hand. Brenda moaned appreciatively as I caressed it slowly and firmly.

I kissed my way down her neck to her breasts, pausing to bury my face between them before seeking out her nipple with my tongue. Her dress was very low cut and easily pushed aside to leave those monsters exposed in the lights of the parking lot. They were saggy, yes, but they were so big and with huge, erect nipples. Brenda threw her head back and let me attack them, crying out softly with pleasure at every touch. I nibbled on her nipples, gently squeezing them between my teeth as I continued knead them with my hands.

It was getting pretty steamy in the car. In fact, the windows were beginning to fog up when Brenda pulled away from me and slipped her dress back over her breasts.

"Come on," she said, opening the door. "I've got a key." I needed no more encouragement, and followed her through the back door and into the darkened building. Brenda flicked on the lights, revealing a rather cramped back room. There were a few seats, a small table and a refrigerator in the main section of the room. A tiny office and a bathroom were off to one side. It didn't look a whole lot more roomy than the front seat of my car. I didn't get a chance to say so though.

"Where were we?" asked Brenda as she crushed her mamoth breasts against my chest and kissed me. I kissed her back, letting my tongue slip into her mouth. The kisses got deeper and wetter as our hands began groping at each other. I was caressing her breasts through her dress, pressing firmly and rubbing them. They were soft and moved easily under my hands, like miniature waterbeds.

When I reached further down, trying to slip a hand under Brenda's dress, she backed away, smiling.

"I've got a better idea," she said, stepping close again, but pushing my hands away from her. She flicked my tie aside and unbuckled my belt. She gave a quick glance up at me, like a person checking for cars before crossing the street, and then unsnapped my pants. Brenda took another quick look up at me before pulling down my fly and reaching her hand into my pants.

"Oooh," she moaned as her hand closed around my rock hard member. I felt her body tremble slightly as she gave me a gentle squeeze. With one last look up at me, Brenda lowered herself to her knees and pulled my pants down to my ankles.

My cock was less than a few inches from her face as she took hold of it. A soft yet high pitched sigh, almost a whimper, escaped her as she held my member in her hand. Then she lowered her lips over my shaft and started sucking on me.

I noticed that there was a mirror on the wall beside us in which I could watch Brenda sucking me. I have to say, if you've never watched a woman in the mirror as she sucks your cock, you've got to try it. Looking down from the top just doesn't compare to being able to watch from the side like that.

I could clearly see Brenda's mouth opening to take my rod in, her lips closing around me and then her lips dragging gently along my shaft as she sucked back up to the top of my cock. I could see the glisten of saliva left behind my her warm, wet mouth. I could see the ring on her thumb pressing against my vein as she grasped me at the base. I also had a wonderful profile of Brenda on her knees, feet nicely pointed out behind her, her massive breasts swaying and brushing against me as she bobbed up and down on my cock. It's such a fine sight to see a woman on her knees with her lips around me. And I can't say enough how awesome it is to see from that angle how a woman's mouth takes in my cock; to see how far her lips stretch to accommodate my girth.

Brenda's head was tilted back to accept my cock, which she pulled down into her mouth. Her eyes were closed as she lost herself in the act of sucking me. At first her sucking was slow and deep and I could feel my balls getting tighter with every trip her lips made down my shaft.

Unfortunately, when she started sucking faster, things went downhill. Despite the fullness of Brenda's lips, I could feel teeth rubbing against the sensitive skin of my cock. The faster she went, the more she seemed to scratch me. Now I love getting sucked off, obviously, and I love to savor each new woman's mouth on my cock. And it wasn't like Brenda was the first woman to ever let her teeth get to me. But it was uncomfortable and distracting and I almost wanted to cum quickly just to get it over with.

Then I got an idea and pulled away from her. She looked up at me in surprise. Obviously, I didn't want to say anything about her teeth on me, so instead I told her to lay on her back.

"Let me put it between those mountains of yours," I said, suddenly very turned on by the idea of tit-fucking Brenda. Her eyebrows arched and eyes widened in surprise and I was sure she would say no. But then with a shrug, she slipped her arms out of her dress, undid her bra and let her melon-like breasts spill out.

I could hardly believe it as she lay down, her massive breasts jiggling and sloshing around like balloons full of Jell-O. I gave each nipple a quick sucking before I straddled Brenda and put my cock between her breasts. She pressed them together as I started to rock my hips back and forth on top of her. It felt pretty good, slithering my cock between her massive breasts that way. Brenda was moaning as I pumped away on top of her. I wasn't sure if it really felt good for her or if it was just the excitement of having a man's shaft between her breasts that made her moan. At any rate, we were both enjoying ourselves.