"Very nice," I said, trying my best to not sound as bored as I really was. My wife's stepsister was getting married, and as she lived in a small town, she and her mother had come to visit us in the big city to shop for a wedding gown. Since I was a consultant working from home, I was volunteered to act as chauffeur, taking them around to various bridal shops in the area to find the perfect gown.
As you might think, this was not one of the most interesting things I could imagine doing. The only thing that made it halfway tolerable was the fact that the bride-to-be looked exactly like what she had been only a short time before - the quintessential high school cheerleader. Long blonde hair falling in waves to her shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and that perfect hourglass figure that had every teenage boy in the county panting after her - perfectly rounded C-cup breasts, tight waist, and the pear shaped ass that made that cheerleader skirt bounce so enticingly. To top it off, she had that soft, breathy Southern drawl that could be reciting from Mein Kampf and still make your cock hard.
So yeah, it wasn't the worst form of torture, taking her all over town trying on dresses. Particularly since I noticed she tended to go with very tight, very low cut - I don't know the first thing about material, lace, beading, or any other aspect of a classic wedding dress, but I very much approved of those beautiful teenage tits on display. I had become a bit mesmerized over the course of the day with the way they would gently bounce around within the bodice of each dress as she twisted around looking in the mirrors. If I didn't know better, I could have sworn she had occasionally teased me with an eyeful, but at my advanced age of 26, this 19-year-old wouldn't have given me the second glance.
Or at least you might think that, but the fact of the matter was her fiance was actually my age. And as you might expect, he got a combination of "cradle robbing" remarks and a good bit of jealousy for his situation. I didn't really know him very well, but he seemed like an okay sort for a guy named Jimbo. He must have had something going for him to land this grade A piece of ass.
So there I was, watching her moving back and forth in front of the mirrors for what seemed like the thousandth time, and while sneaking a peek at her tight little body was fun, it was beginning to lose its charm. Her mother had left with the clerk to check out some other dresses in a back room, and I found myself alone with Cyndilu. As she stood in front of the mirrors, she turned towards me, and looked down at me sitting there, with what I thought was a shy smile on her face.
"Ah know you are probably tired of this, but you are about the same height as Jimbo, can you come here a minute so Ah can check somethin' out?" she said, as she held out her hand to me. I figured, why not, so I took her hand and she led me over towards the mirror right beside the dressing room and had me stand next to her.
First she took my arm, and looked at the reflection of the two of us in the mirror. She was a rather petite girl, which gave me an excellent view of her deep cleavage. She looked up at me and I thought she hadn't caught me looking, when she smiled at me and said with that soft drawl, "Ah know Jimbo will only care about two things with mah dress - first, how do mah tits look?"
"Oh, um, well," I stammered, taken completely off-guard by her remark. "Well, since you asked, my god yes, they look spectacular. Wow. So, uh, what's the second thing?"