The Collector 09

Okay, this next one I almost wasn't going to put in my journal. I started writing about it for an earlier entry, then changed my mind. There are a few reasons why I'm hesitant to write about this blow job. One is that I still work with the woman in question. Yeah, I know I keep things anonymous, use other names and all. But it still seems a little risky writing about someone see every day. Especially since she's married. Which is another reason I'm not sure I should be writing this.

But the real reason isn't either of those. There's another woman I still work with who's sucked my cock, and I'll probably write about her. I've already written about a couple of married women who've sucked my cock, and they aren't the only ones. It has more to do with me than her. I'm not particularly proud of myself for this one, and not because she's married or works with me.

Angie is, and has always been, a first class bitch. Everyone in the office knows it and they avoid her whenever possible. She has a condescending way of talking to people and she's petty and spiteful. Part of her job involves processing expense reports, and I can't tell you how many people have had screaming fights with her because she wouldn't approve legitimate expenses. The worst part is everyone knows she does it not out of a sense of duty, but simply to exercise a little petty tyranny over her co-workers.

Angie used to process time cards for payroll, where she had a reputation for arbitrarily deciding that some peoples' overtime was not approved. People who worked those hours and expected to be paid for them were more than a little peeved with her. Again, she had no real reason to do something like that. It was all very small-minded and spiteful. People with whom she got along, and I was a member of this small group, never had these problems with her.

Just because it wasn't happening to me didn't mean I didn't care. I really didn't like the woman. Of course, I was always polite and courteous to her, but that's the way I am with everyone. But it certainly didn't mean that I liked her. I didn't.

So how did I wind up getting my cock sucked by this woman if I truly didn't like her? Well, that's part of what makes this embarrassing for me. I got Angie to suck my cock for sadistic reasons, almost as a form of revenge for the way she treated all of the other people we work with. And I liked it. If you've ever stuffed your cock into the mouth of a woman you didn't like, then you'll understand. If you've gotten a mean-spirited, spiteful bitch to humble herself on her knees, to look up at you with her lips around your shaft and to taste your load on her tongue, you'll understand. I'm embarrassed to admit how much I enjoyed the primal, savage satisfaction I got from it.

Angie was maybe five-three or five-four and very thin with almost no hips or ass at all. What she lacked in curves on the bottom though, she more than made up for on top. I don't think I've ever seen a woman as thin as Angie with breasts so large. Not real ones anyway. She had light brown hair cut short in an almost boyish style. Her neck was long and rather slender. She had high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, a delicate nose and a small, thin-lipped mouth. She had a very pretty, if seldom seen smile. She usually wore slacks or a long dress, which was probably best because it hid how bony her legs were. She also tried to hide how large her breasts were by wearing oversized blouses, but there's no way a woman so slightly built could conceal those double D's.

Angie was married and had a couple of kids. Judging by the pictures on her desk, they were at least grammar school age, so Angie, who was in her early thirties, must have had them fairly young. I've noticed that some women who marry and have families when they're that young get a bit restless when they get to Angie's age. Especially ones who married their high school or college sweethearts. Maybe they feel like they missed out on dating and partying or something, but I don't think that's it. It's more likely that husbands and wives can grow apart easily, especially when what they had in common, like their high school or college circle of friends, is taken out of the picture.

I don't know if Angie was a nasty bitch when her husband married her or if it's his fault she became that way. Either way, by the time I met her, she was clearly not a happy person at work, and I just couldn't imagine things were much better at home. So it's really not all that surprising that she was nice to a single, good looking young guy like myself. Especially since I was one of the few people in the place who was civil to her.

Eye contact, I've always said, is one of the most effective ways of flirting. If you meet a woman's gaze for a moment and then look away, it means nothing. But if you keep looking into each others eyes past the point where you both know you should have looked away, pulses start to speed up. Angie had crystal blue eyes and for many people, they must have seemed like daggers. When she turned them on me though, I always looked steadily back into them. I didn't really like Angie, but it was clear that she liked me. Since she was obviously a person who made life difficult for those she didn't like, I used these moments to stay on her good side. Yeah, that's a little manipulative, but it's nothing compared to what she dished out.

Anyway, my point was that it was obvious she liked me by the way she maintained eye contact with me and was nice to me, in stark contrast to the way she treated others. But even after I started this little collection of mine, I never really seriously considered her. What got me to thinking about her was a conversation I overheard.

I had taken a bunch of work into one of the empty private offices to get away from the distractions of coworkers and telephones. For most part, I was just sitting there reading through some files. I guess I was being rather quiet and no one realized I was in there. Two guys who's voices I recognized started complaining in hushed tones about "that smelly cunt" and the "expense report nazi." Naturally, I knew exactly whom they were talking about.

"Man, I'd love to put it up her ass until she cried," said the first guy.

"Yeah, then pull it out and shove it straight in her mouth!" said the second.

"Exactly. Fucking bitch!"

"Not that she'd ever suck a dick, that frigid cunt," the second guy said.

"Are you kidding?" asked the second. "You never heard about her and Frank? One of the cleaning guys caught her knobbing him in his car in the parking lot one night. I can't believe you never heard about that." The first guy said something, but I couldn't hear what it was. "Yeah, and a couple people said they saw the two of them coming out of the file room together, you know, after hours. More than once."

I was suddenly paying very close attention. I had never heard any of this. The only guy named Frank I could think of had left the company several months ago. I didn't really know him, but I knew who he was. I found myself getting turned on thinking about Angie blowing him in his car and maybe even in the file room.

Angie was such a bitch that even a guy as obsessed with blow jobs as me never really thought of her that way. All of a sudden, I couldn't get the thought of her sucking cock out of my mind. At that moment I made a conscious decision to try to get Angie to suck me off. It wound up taking a few months, but the moment I started trying was when I overheard that conversation.

I started slowly, making excuses to go through Angie's area a little more often, going to lunch at the same time, etc. It gave me a few extra opportunities to smile and say hi to her. And make eye contact, of course. I also knew she often spent large chunks of time in the afternoons alone in the file room, so I'd pull a couple files out in the morning and bring them back when she was in there. The relative isolation of the file room, combined with the thoughts that Angie may have already sucked some cock in there, gave me a little charge each time I went in.

Angie usually said hi and gave me a smile when I saw her in the file room. She must have noticed that I was suddenly popping in three or four times a week when she was working in there. On occasion we'd actually have conversations. They weren't very flirtatious or even very interesting. But we kept our eyes locked on each other the entire time. It was almost like a staring contest and neither one of us would look away. I'd leave with a tingling in my loins after those little chats, despite the fact that nothing remotely sexy was said.

I have to say, I think she must have been feeling it too. Early on, those conversations were rare. Angie would look up, say hi and then go back to her work. As things progressed, we wound up talking more often and for longer stretches each time. And I noticed that she was frequently the one to instigate our exchanges. It was almost like she thought of some topic or question in advance. Who knows? Maybe she did.

One time when I encountered Angie in there, she was kneeling on the floor to get stuff out of the bottom drawer of a file cabinet. As I've mentioned many times before, and probably will mention many more times again, the sight of a woman on her knees really gets my blood pumping. Pumping right into my cock usually.

So there I am talking to this woman who's on her knees and making unflinching eye contact with me in a room where she probably gave another man head. I could feel my cock start to swell in my pants as I concentrated on Angie's eyes. As my member expanded, it caught at an awkward angle in the leg of my pants. I wanted so badly to reach down and tug it into a more comfortable position and let it continue to grow unhindered. But instead I kept my eyes locked on Angie's, hoping her eyes didn't stray from mine to what was going on in my pants.

I don't know if it was just the discomfort of my constrained erection, but that conversation seemed to last much longer than usual. I couldn't even tell you what we were talking about either. On the one hand, I was totally distracted by the discomfort of my cock getting pinned down by my pants. On the other, I kept looking at and thinking about Angie on her knees, which only made the problem of my stifled erection worse. All things considered, I thought I handled it quite well and Angie never gave any indication that she saw any of the extracurricular stuff going on below my belt.

I should probably mention that during this time that although Angie was quite nice to me, she was still the same unholy bitch she had always been to everyone else. Because I was taking extra trips past her desk I heard more of her heated exchanges than I ever had before. Some of it was so ridiculous that I wanted to go argue with her myself. I mean, we work for a good sized company and she was telling someone they couldn't put a one dollar toll on their expense report because they could have taken a non-toll road. It was difficult not to tell her what a mean, petty little bitch she was being. I told myself to be patient and keep thinking of the day when I could shut her up by stuffing my cock into her mouth.

I don't like pretending to like someone to get something from them. I don't like being a phony. But in this case I was able to rationalize that it was okay this time because Angie was such a bitch. She deserved it. She deserved to be treated badly for the way she treated others. It would serve her right to find out I didn't like her only after she had sucked my cock. Yeah, that's pretty rotten, and probably why I wasn't going to include this in my journal. But that's how I felt.

So no matter how much Angie's pettiness irritated me, I always managed to be pleasant with her. If it made me feel like more of a jerk than usual, that only made me want to blast my load down her throat even more. I kept up my routine of going to the file room in the afternoon and chatting with her. More and more I could feel the sexual charge building between us, even though our conversations were fairly bland. I sensed it was only a matter of time, but knew that it would have to be up to Angie to make the first move.

Of course, I wanted to give Angie the perfect opportunity to make her move. In the course of 'stalking' her for several weeks, I had gotten her routine down and had figured out the most likely time. If anything was going to happen, it would be Thursday afternoon. On Thursdays, Angie would be in the file room well after five o'clock, long after most of the staff had gone home. While I had made a regular thing of going back when she was there, I had never gone back after hours. That was my next move.

I waited until quarter past before I popped in on her. As always, I had a handful of files that I was "returning." If Angie was surprised to see me, she didn't show it.

"Working late?" she asked, barely looking up from her own pile of folders.

"Just finishing up before I head out. You?"

"This is a regular thing for me," Angie replied, indicating the stacks around her. "I'm always here late on Thursdays." Now she was looking up at me and I stopped to meet her gaze. I asked her why she worked late and she answered and we continued to stare into each other's eyes. I barely heard her explanation. I could feel the early stirrings of an erection, growing stronger every moment our eyes remained locked on each other.

This time I was prepared. Knowing that I might get aroused, I had arranged things to allow my cock to swell unhindered by my clothes. As Angie and I made pointless small talk and stared into each other's eyes, my shaft was steadily getting harder. And I made no effort to conceal it. In just a few minutes I had a raging hard on, straining against the fabric of my pants. I wasn't sure if Angie was aware of it or not, but I suspected she was.

Angie was a smart woman. She might have been an insufferable bitch, but she wasn't stupid. Plenty of the people who had gotten into arguments with her found that her intelligence was not to be taken lightly. She must have known I was deliberately making excuses to go to the file room when she was there. I'm sure she knew about the rumors and she probably knew exactly why I kept coming back to that isolated room. So I was pretty sure she was aware of the bulge in my pants as I stood there chatting with her. And I'm also fairly sure that she wasn't surprised by my erection. All of this sexual tension had been bubbling just below the surface, covered only by a thin veneer of polite conversation. We both knew it. It was only a matter of time before one of us actually acknowledged it.

As we wrapped up our brief conversation, I went to put my folder back in the file cabinet. Naturally, I had taken out one that was near the table where Angie sat, so I was standing only a couple feet from her as I opened the drawer. I was standing facing her and my attention was on the files in the drawer, giving her ample opportunity to check me out. I glanced up quickly and saw that she was doing just that. Her eyes were focused on my pants. She realized I was looking at her and her eyes flicked up to meet mine for an instant and then quickly went back to the work in front of her. I saw her cheeks get a bit red.

I couldn't keep from smiling a little. I think she saw that too. I closed the file drawer and turned to leave.

"Have a nice night," I said as I headed for the door. "Don't work too, uh... hard." I didn't look back to see her reaction. I'd know soon enough if my visit had had the desired effect.

The next day, Friday, I purposely avoided going to the file room and didn't see Angie at all. I figured it was best to back off until the following week. I didn't want to appear eager. I wanted to make sure she wasn't expecting me to make the first move.

Monday and Tuesday I avoided the file room too, although I did see Angie and say hi to her both days. Wednesday I made a stop in the back when she was there, but I was careful to keep it brief. I chatted with her and we made lots of eye contact, but I didn't linger. I suspected I was close, but I wasn't sure how close. That's one of the problems with playing coy little games like this. You never really know. Of course, that's also part of the fun too, so I guess I can't complain. The thrill of the chase can be almost as good as the payoff.

It turns out I was a lot closer than I thought. Mid-morning on Thursday I got an inter-office envelope delivered to my desk. Inside was a folder from the file room. It was very similar to the ones I had pulled out and returned several times over the last few weeks. There was a yellow sticky note attached to it.

"Please review and return to me this afternoon by 5:30," it read. It wasn't signed. I felt my pulse quicken a little, because I understood immediately. Angie wanted me to come to the file room this afternoon at 5:30. She was setting up an after-hours rendezvous. Was she really going to suck my cock today? I got hard just thinking about it.

I went past her desk a couple times and looked for her at lunch, but I didn't see her. I re-read the note attached to the file several times that afternoon, and I was too distracted to get much work done. I kept visualizing Angie on her knees in the file room, her slender neck bending as her mouth bobbed up and down on my shaft.

At that point I can honestly say I was just thinking about getting a blow job. I wasn't at all concerned with humbling or humiliating Angie for being the miserable bitch that she was. Yeah, there might still have been some element of that, but it was way in the background. It wasn't like she had ever been nasty to me. She was just another woman who wanted to give me head.

All that changed around three o'clock. I was talking with another woman, Trish, who earned her place in this journal shortly after Angie did. More on that later. While she and I were talking, Angie walked by. She didn't say anything, but she definitely turned a hairy eyeball on Trish.

Less than an hour after that, I heard through the grapevine that Trish had been called in by her supervisor and reprimanded. Now it's pretty rare for someone to get in trouble in the office just for shooting the breeze for a few minutes. Unless someone goes to your boss and complains about you, that is. I had no proof, of course, but naturally I assumed that Angie had been the one to get Trish in trouble.

Now it wasn't just a blow job I wanted. Now I wanted to ram my cock down Angie's throat. I wanted to see her eyes bug out as I gagged her with my rod and hear her choke as I poured my load into her mouth. Okay, so I wouldn't actually do anything like that, but it was still a nice fantasy.

In my anger I decided that if I didn't have it in me to be rough with her, at least I could dish out a little humiliation to the bitch. I'd need a little help though. I made a quick phone call and made the arrangements rather easily. I guess if people really don't like you, they're easily recruited to act against you. I hope I never piss people off as badly as Angie.

Of course, I wasn't positive our rendezvous was still on. I assumed that Angie's issue was with Trish, not me and that whatever she had planned for this afternoon was still going to happen. But I really wasn't sure.

I kept myself busy at my desk until almost 5:30. Then I made another phone call, picked up the folder and headed for the file room. The anticipation, or maybe it was the suspense, was building up in me. I couldn't wait to walk into there and see what would happen. At the same time, I was even more on edge about my plan and whether or not it would work.

Well, I wasn't disappointed about Angie's end of the deal. Instead of sitting at the table where I expected to see her, she was kneeling on the floor in front of an open file drawer. She was leaning over it, letting her mammoth breasts hang down. I hadn't noticed earlier, but her blouse was fairly low cut, at least compared to what she usually wore. I caught a rare glimpse of her cleavage as I entered the room. She didn't look up right away and I wasn't really sure what to do next.