A Pleasant Day Spent Trapped in her Bra
by Sunblind



As I came out of the bathroom, I started because I had not expected Betsy to
be standing right in front of the door. She was entirely naked, unless you
count that she had her glasses on.

Her hands were on her hips, and she wore an expression of what could only be
termed: mock exasperation.

"You were trying to sneak out on me, weren't you?" She squinched up her face,
so that despite her scolding tone, I knew that she wanted me to know that she
wasn't angry but at the same time that she wasn't going to let me get away
with it either.

It was first thing in the morning and I had promised, the night before, that I
would take the day off and spend it entirely with her. She had planned a
picnic in the park, followed by an afternoon at the pool, an intimate dinner
and then a romantic evening.

And I wasn't trying to run out on her ... I just wanted to hit the office for
an hour or two, first thing. But now I had two problems. First, my credibility
wasn't so good. I had pulled the same stunt on each of the last two times I
had made a similar promise and something had come up both times that had kept
me at the office and ruined her plans. Second, I had not even warned her of my
plan for an early start, so now it did, in fact, look as if I was trying to
sneak out.

"Lie down on the bed," she directed.

Okay. Not the direction I thought this was going to take, but ... I liked the
way I thought she was thinking.

Standing at the side of the bed, Betsy began a two handed massage of my penis
and balls that had me instantly rock-hard. I didn't really understand her
game, though, because while I would surely lie still for as long as she rubbed
me, as soon as I came, I'd be right back up and on my way out.

As she rubbed my cock, however, I began to notice that her manipulations of my
balls were not the usual technique of gentle squeezes and rubs. Rather it felt
like she was dialing the combination on a padlock as well as intermittently
pressing "buttons" deep within my scrotum.

Just as I was about to ask about this new method, Betsy let go of me and
straightened up. Still looming over me, her hands on her hips and her boobs
thrust out, I suddenly had the impression that she was growing taller.

My face must have registered confusion, particularly due to the fact her face
was registering such obvious delight.

"Well how about that, it really works," she intoned (mostly to herself).

When you have been married as long as we have, there are no surprises; so the
fact that I was now about five inches tall really didn't faze me all that
much. I stood up on the bed and faced her ... the top of my head was about
even with the bottom of her breasts. I had always loved her big tits, but now
that they appeared to be the size of volkswagons, they were actually a bit
intimidating.

"Remember the book club book from about a year ago about eastern religious
mysticism," she smiled down at me. "Well, there was some interesting stuff in
one of the appendixes that suggested something like this might be possible,
under the right circumstances.

I shrugged. Why bother with surprise or insist on explanations ... what's done
is done. "So now what ... I guess I'm not going to the office, huh?"

Without another word, she scooped me up in one hand and wedged me crosswise
under her left breast, which was heavy enough to hold me in place on its own.
(I was just long enough that me feet stuck out on one side and my head on the
other.)

"Hey," she laughed, "Hands free ... Sort of puts an interesting twist on the
old pencil test, doesn't it."

I smiled to myself, but despite the (rather pleasant) weight on my back, I
made every effort to scrabble some kind of handhold on her ribcage, as she
walked across the room to her dresser and brought out a pair of everyday,
white cotton panties.

Once she had put them on, she fished me out from under her boob and held me up
to her face. I smiled, ruefully, at her. "I promise I'll be good, if you ... "

Cutting me off in mid-sentence, she kissed me (her lips covered my entire face
and most of my chest), and inserted me into the waistband of her panties. She
had faced me towards her, so my face was pressed into her belly, as the band
pressed into my mid-back. She'd been careful to hang my arms behind me, over
the outside of the band, so that I couldn't slip all the way inside.

Though I couldn't see, I could tell that she had selected a bra, and was
squirming into it. Fishing me out of her panties, she dropped me into her
cleavage (facing out) and, as she fixed the clasp, trapped my legs in the
chest band. She then reached into the cups and pulled each one of my arms out,
perpendicular to my body, and wedged each, in turn, under her corresponding
breast. (By the time she got finished arranging me, I was in the same
position, and had about the same mobility, as if she'd nailed me to a cross.)

As she finished dressing, we chatted amiably about the things that a long-
married couple will talk about as they prepare for a day off together. Nothing
further was said about the fairly odd manner in which she had convinced me to
accompany her. As she buttoned up her shirt and darkness fell over me, I
settled into her cleavage and reveled in the beating of her heart.

Our day was very enjoyable ... we went on the picnic. It being a weekday,
there was no one at the park anyway, and anyone who spotted her would have
seen a woman enjoying a solitary, peaceful lunch, under a large oak tree. We
talked discreetly and she fed me by unbuttoning her top button and holding a
crumb or two on the tip of her finger, in front of my face. Even to a close
observer, it would have appeared as if she were simply scratching her chest.

Rather than going to the pool in the afternoon (she couldn't figure out how to
hide me in her bathing suit or how to swim without drowning me), she opted to
sit on the back deck and read. After the third time that I interrupted her
reading (I was a little bored), she put down her book and used her upper arms
to squish her tits together, effectively burying me under a relative ton of
titflesh. I got the message and dozed quietly until it was time for dinner.

I spent dinner, flat on my back on the kitchen table under Betsy's left
breast. Since we were in the house, she had taken off her shirt and bra, laid
me flat on the table next to her plate and placed her breast on top of me. She
leaned forward only so far that I had to endure only the weight of her boob,
but it felt like she had placed a refrigerator on top of me.

At bedtime, I was once again inserted into the waistband of her panties as she
brushed her teeth and fluffed her hair.

When she stepped back out into the bedroom, she removed me from her panties
and held me up to her face again.

"Well, I had a pretty good day ... I'm glad you talked me into spending the
whole day with you," I smiled.

She kissed me again, and I did the best I could to kiss back.

"I love you."

"I love you too," she answered and, with no other segue, pulled back the
waistband of her panties and gently dropped me in.

As the band snapped shut above my head, I tried to press myself up against the
white cotton as far away from her hungry lips as possible. But her hand gently
pressed on me from the other side of the garment and I was soon helplessly
entangled in her pubic hair.

After a minute or two my flailing resulted in my arm slipping slightly into
her insides and her alert labia latched on to me. It was like being caught in
a velvet-covered vice.

Almost immediately, her vaginal muscles began inexorably to draw me directly
into her love. I tried to resist ... I even tried to wedge my feet against her
and pushed with all my might.

Inevitably, though one of my feet lost its purchase and slipped into her
crushing grasp. Now with one leg and one arm entrapped it was just a matter of
time. Her muscles kept working and I was drawn slowly into her until the muted
light that had been filtering through her panties became the absolute
blackness of her womb.

I kept fighting, not because it was unpleasant, but because my squirming
seemed to be enhancing her experience. Once I was all the way in, I felt from
her body motions that she'd removed her panties and crawled up onto the bed.

I squirmed around. I tried to crawl back out. No chance ... I was trapped, and
I was helpless. As she built toward an orgasm, I was pleasantly squeezed by
her most intimate of muscles until she went over the edge and I was crushed
into unconsciousness.

When I awoke I was lying on my pillow. She had cocooned me in a pair of her
panties (like a baby in a receiving blanket) so that I wouldn't roll of the
bed, and I was completely immobile. Since she was sleeping on her side of the
bed, I allowed myself to drift off, wondering what the morning would bring.