Booby Trap

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Booby Trap
Booby Trap

Copyright Oggbashan April 2018

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

This story is set in the 1960s.


I like big breasts. Since I was adult I was attracted to big women with large breasts but my lack of height made me an unlikely boyfriend for any woman who had them. Most of my friends knew I was a breast man and some of them used to tease me about it. Some of my women friends would use almost any excuse to press their clothed breasts against me, just to watch me squirm with embarrassment. There was no malice, just sexual horseplay.

In the mid 1960s a broken bra strap changed my life. I was with friends from our local technical college walking group on a Boxing Day outing. We had planned to walk from a rural railway station to a country public house. We would have a seasonal lunch there and walk back to another station.

We arrived in a four-coach diesel train. Unusually for the group it would be a short walk each way, only about ten miles in total. The limited daylight was the excuse. The reality was that we expected to have a very good meal and get close to being drunk before the walk back. There were rude comments about my short legs as we made our way along muddy footpaths with ice-covered puddles. I might have had short legs but I was wearing wellington boots. My feet stayed dry unlike some who were wearing short hiking boots.

There were about twenty of us. It was not our normal group because only students who lived close to the college had come. I noticed Sarah particularly. She was wearing a brown cord maxi skirt over her jeans and calf length boots. Although she had been on walks with us before she was usually with her friends. This time she was alone.

Why had I noticed Sarah? She was tall and had the largest breasts I had ever seen. Sarah knew I liked breasts. She sometimes teased me that all I saw of her were her breasts. It was almost true. If she was close to me I would have to tilt my head back to look into her face. Even in her winter clothing her bust was prominent. Alan suggested that if it started to rain I could take shelter under Sarah’s breasts. She laughed at us. I wasn’t not quite as short-arsed as that. If I had stood in front of Sarah my eyes would have been just above the level of her cleavage. Sarah was large, tall but not overweight for her height, except for her breasts which were very large even for her build.

Until this walk I had rarely talked to Sarah one to one. We had usually met in a group with mutual friends. We knew of each other and basic information such as where we lived. I had seen her on the walks and on the campus. She was at the teachers’ training college. I was at the engineering college that shared the same campus. The two colleges were small enough and shared some facilities so we knew each other well enough to wave and say hello.

In the pub the seasonal meal was as great as we expected, perhaps even better. We had ordered it weeks ago and we were the only customers. We had visited this pub several times in the warmer months when it was busy. After the meal we were gathered around the open log fire drinking more than we should. Alcohol can cause body temperature to fall if the weather is cold. We might be walking back as it turned frosty.

Then it happened. Sarah came back from the toilet. Her coat had slipped onto the floor. She reached down to pick it up and her bra strap broke.

“Shit!” Sarah said.

She felt under her sweatshirt at the back.

“Damn! It’s broken.” She added.

“What has?” Mary asked.

“My bra strap. Have you got a safety pin? I can’t walk with one tit flopping.”

Mary shook her head.

“I have,” I said.

“Have what, Geoff?” Sarah asked.

“A safety pin. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Sarah?”

One thing led to another. A few minutes later Sarah and I were in one of the private cubicles as she tried to fix her bra strap at the back with a safety pin. She was finding it almost impossible. She had to hold her heavy breast up with one hand while trying to attach the safety pin with the other.

She didn’t want to but eventually she let me fasten her bra strap with the safety pin. She supported her breasts with crossed arms. I used two pins because I thought one wouldn’t take the considerable strain. Her bra was a boulder holder. The wide strap had obviously been failing for some time before it detached.

“Keep still, Sarah, please,” I asked.

I used the needle and thread I kept with the safety pins to make a stronger mend. Sarah eased her breast back into the bra.

“Thank you, Geoff,” she said. “That feels secure enough until I get home. How can I thank you? I know…”

She grabbed my head and pulled it into her cleavage. My head sank into her sweatshirt deeper than I had thought possible.

“Wow!” I said as she released me.

Sarah giggled. “Wow is good, Geoff. Thank you for helping and being a gentleman while you did. Some might have taken advantage and grabbed a tit. I know you like breasts but you behaved. You did what was necessary and no more. Thanks.”

We walked back to the main room. Sarah had an arm around my shoulder. Only Mary noticed our return.

“Put him back,” Mary said with a grin. “Geoff’s not large enough for you, Sarah.”

“I don’t think I will,” Sarah retorted. “He might be small. I know he likes my boobies but he’s a good one.”

“You’re right. He is.” Mary replied.

A week ago I had sorted out a problem with Mary’s car. It hadn’t been difficult, just long-winded. She repaid me with a meal and briefly hugged my head against her breasts . Nothing else happened. Mary had only needed my car maintenance skills because her boyfriend Alan had been away for a few days.


When we left the pub Sarah walked beside me. I extended a hand. She took it. We had some odd looks from some of the group but it felt right for us. When we reached the railway station we had to stand on the icy platform. The only building was a tiny ticket hut which was closed and shuttered. After about quarter of an hour we heard a whistle in the distance. An ancient steam tank engine wheezed into the platform pulling two even older coaches. We climbed in. As the train pulled away it was soon obvious that the heating wasn’t working. We were cold from the walk, cold from standing on the platform, and cold on the train.

I was shivering as I sat beside Sarah. She pulled me beside her.

“Cold, Geoff?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I think I drank too much.”

I had drunk three pints and two double scotches. At my size that had affected me more than someone larger.

Sarah picked me up bodily and dumped me on her skirted lap. I might have objected. Her kiss stifled any protest I might have made. She opened the front of her coat before she wrapped it around me. My head was against her shoulder. Her arms held her coat around me.

“Sometimes there are advantages to being large,” Sarah said. “I rarely feel cold. Just relax and I’ll warm you up. You might enjoy it.”

I was very aware of a large soft breast against my chest. I could feel the warmth of Sarah’s body through her sweatshirt. If there had been anyone else in this part of the carriage all they might have seen of me would have been my boots in the folds of Sarah’s skirt. As the train rattled slowly along I was almost asleep in Sarah’s embrace, and she was right. I did enjoy it.

The branch train shuddered to a halt at the junction. Sarah unwrapped me. We changed trains to the main line connection on the opposite platform. This train had modern warm carriages. I sat next to Sarah again feeling warm, rested, and grateful. We talked for the half hour it took to reach our home town. We were surprised just how much we had in common and that our attitudes to many subjects were similar.

As we got off the train I asked.

“Can I see you again, Sarah?”

“You mean you are asking me for a date, Geoff?”

“Yes. I suppose I am.”

“How about now?”


“We’re going back to our flats, both of us, aren’t we? Almost everyone else is going home to their parents. Mine are away visiting my sister and her new baby. Yours are abroad, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Sarah, they are.”

“Then why not? We’re both alone on Boxing Day. Why not be alone, together, in my flat? I have a casserole ready to go that could be a meal for two.”

“I would be delighted but I’ll have to change first, Sarah. I don’t think muddy jeans and wellingtons are appropriate wear.”

Sarah looked at me. I had mud splashes well above my knees. She pulled at her skirt. The hem was mud-spattered.

“OK. But casual wear will do. Half an hour?”

“Half an hour it is.”

Sarah gave me a hug as I left her outside her flat to walk the hundred yards to mine. I fed the gas meter with enough coins for a quick shower. My hair was still damp as I rang her door bell but I was clean, dry and comfortable. Sarah opened the door with a towel wrapped around her head. She was wearing another sweatshirt over a dark red skirt.

“Oh. You showered too, Geoff. I was just about to use the hairdryer.”

She sat on the settee drying her hair. I helped by directing the warm air at the back of her head. She brushed and combed her hair.

“Your hair is still damp,” Sarah said. “Come here.”

She spread the towel across her lap. Before I knew what she intended she had pulled me on to the settee and pushed me face down on to the towel. She dried and combed my hair. It took less than a minute because my hair was short back and sides. She pulled me back upright.

“Sorry, Geoff,” she said. “I should have asked you first before hauling you about.”

“Did you hear me object?”

Sarah hugged me.

“No. I didn’t. Why not?”

“Why should I? I helped you dry your hair. You dried mine.”

“But I have been grabbing you all day, Geoff.”

“You warmed me up in the train. You’ve hugged me. Why should I complain?”

Sarah sighed.

“I suppose it’s because you’re so different, Geoff.”

“Different?” I queried.

“My last boyfriend was Stuart. You know him.”

I did. He was the largest member of the college’s rugby team. Sometimes I played hooker for them. Stuart was massive, the largest and heaviest team member.


“Stuart didn’t ask me what I wanted. He just grabbed me and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

I could sense that there was much more behind Sarah’s statement.

“I couldn’t do that,” I said.

“I know. But I could – to you. I don’t know whether it’s because you’re so small that I wanted you. I do, Geoff. We may be very different sizes. I don’t think that matters as much as I know you’re a nice bloke. Repairing Mary’s car last week was an example. You’re not her boyfriend. Alan is. Yet you sorted her car out for her.”

“Alan would have done it if he’d been there, Sarah.”

“But you’re not Alan.”

I looked at Sarah.

“Alan is my friend. Mary’s my friend. Why shouldn’t I do something simple for Mary when Alan wasn’t there? Alan won’t mind.”

“I know. Alan doesn’t think of you as a threat to his relationship with Mary, does he?”

It was my turn to sigh.

“No one does, Sarah. None of the men see me as a threat, not even when their girlfriends breast-smother me. None of the women see me as a potential partner. I’m just short-arsed Geoff, the person everyone looks past – or over my head. A couple of the women are close to my height until they wear heels. Then I’m the shortest at the college.”

“And I’m nearly the tallest, and certainly the largest woman. Men ignore me too – except for my breasts. I know you like them. That reminds me. I need to mend that bra. It should go in the wash tomorrow. I shouldn’t have worn it today but the bra I had intended to wear was still drying. Do you mind if I put a few stitches in it?”

“Of course not.”

“Some men get twitchy if women’s underwear is around them.”

“I don’t. Why should I? I have three older sisters. I grew up with underwear all over the house.”

Sarah stood up, opened a drawer and took out a small box of sewing items. She put it down on the coffee table in front of us. She walked into her bedroom and came back with the bra. She sat down again, reached for the sewing box and her hand stopped in mid-air.

“Geoff! These safety pins aren’t doing anything. You sewed up the strap in the pub.”

“I thought they wouldn’t hold on their own, so I added a few stitches, Sarah.”

“A few stitches! I thought you were slow using the pins. I didn’t realise you were sewing. This is better repaired than I could do, and you did it while I was wearing the bra. How?”

“I just told you I had three older sisters. They and my mother taught me how to sew and sometimes I had to help get them ready for dances. I’m happier repairing cars but I can sew by hand or with a machine.”

“I didn’t realise I had invited a multi-talented man for an evening meal, Geoff. I suppose you can cook too?”

I nodded.

“A man who can repair cars and bras, can cook, and doesn’t grab my tits when he has the opportunity? I think I want you as my boyfriend, Geoff.”

“Did you want me to grab your tits, Sarah? Were you disappointed?”

“I think you would find them a handful. Or more than a handful. Compared with your hands they’re massive. Look.”

Sarah held up the repaired bra by the straps. The cups were still showing the curve of her breasts.

“I wonder,” Sarah said slowly.

She turned towards me still holding the bra.

“I know my breasts are large and you are smaller than me, but this looks as if just one of my breasts is larger than your head.”

“It probably is,” I said, “I haven’t seen your breasts so I don’t know. What I do know is that when you hugged me in the pub I thought I was disappearing between them. I like breasts, and yours are wonderful.”

“There’s an easy way to find out…”

Sarah flipped the bra cup across my face. She tightened it around my head with one hand and pulled me backwards on to her lap. Her other arm pressed against my chest. My arms flapped as I tried to sit back up. It was useless. I had no leverage against her. She bent forward. Her large breasts pressed on my face. I was smothered underneath them, gagged and blindfolded inside her bra cup, breathing her subtle perfume and her victim.

Sarah’s bra and breasts had trapped me in a helpless position. She held me like that for about thirty seconds before lifting her breasts, moving her arm off my body, and removing the bra cup. My head was still resting on her lap. Both of us were breathing hard.

“I’d better see how the casserole is getting on,” Sarah said.

What wasn’t said that we had gone too far too soon in a very new relationship. We were embarrassed. For the rest of the evening we sat side by side and talked. When I finally left Sarah kissed me slowly. I invited her for an evening meal at my flat in two evenings’ time.


Over the next few weeks we saw each other frequently. We went to events together and ate meals in alternate homes. It was obvious that I enjoyed Sarah’s massive breasts and she liked squashing my head against them. She had looked and a hand had checked the bulge in my trousers that her breasts produced. I wasn’t large down there but bigger than might be expected from someone as small as me. I was often sitting on her lap so we could kiss more easily. She treated me as a small but adult male. We were beginning to respect each other’s intelligence and understanding.

I had asked, and Sarah had agreed, to be my partner at the college’s Valentine Dance. I would wear my evening suit. Sarah’s full skirted gown led to more intimacy between us. She wanted to wear it but it was sleeveless and showed more cleavage than she wanted. In mid-February she would want some covering across her shoulders. We spent some hours at her sewing machine making a short three-quarter sleeved jacket in matching stretchy material. Originally we had intended that it should have several large buttons at the front. Before we made the button holes she tried it on. It would be straining at the buttons so we changed it to a front zip.

Our friends had seen what was obvious to them if not yet to us. Sarah and Geoff were together. The jokes about the disparity in our sizes had stopped. They just accepted us as a couple, an odd couple perhaps, but two people in love with each other.

Looking back, that Valentine dance was when Sarah and I admitted what our friends had already seen. We were girlfriend and boyfriend and very much in love with each other. I didn’t actually propose to Sarah until late May but Valentine’s Day was the date on which we decided we were a pair.

I hadn’t seen Sarah wearing that gown with the jacket until I collected her for the dance. We would be walking the several hundred yards to the venue. She had covered herself with a large black hooded cloak. I was wearing a dark grey raincoat. We held hands as we walked together. I was swamped several times by the folds of her cloak. It was held out by the immensity of her skirts. Underneath them she was wearing a six-hooped petticoat. When we left her cloak and my coat in the cloakroom Sarah looked magnificent. Her wide spreading skirts could only be worn by someone as tall as she was. Her tight bodice above the swell of the skirt made her look slimmer than she actually was. She was massive. I looked ridiculously small beside her.

We danced together all evening. In the more energetic dances I was in danger of being swept off my feet by her swirling skirts. In the slow numbers? My head was at the level of her cleavage because she was wearing high heels. In a dark corner of the dance floor she pulled my head against her short jacket. My face sank deep between her breasts, so deep that I thought I felt her breasts closing around the back of my head. I was slightly disappointed that she kept that jacket on all evening. I would have liked to be closer to bare cleavage.

At the end of the evening the lights were turned down low. For one slow dance Sarah picked me up, spread my legs around her waist, and perched me on the dome of her skirt. I could feel the bump of her small purse in a pocket in the skirt. Like that we could kiss, and did. If anyone had seen us they might have thought my position ridiculous. It probably was. I didn’t care. I was close to the woman I loved, in her arms, and we were kissing. Anything else was irrelevant.

After the dance, just as we left the lighted foyer to walk back to her flat, Sarah suddenly picked me up again. She put me back on her domed skirt before flipping her black cloak around me. She pulled the large hood up. My head was beside hers inside that hood. I had disappeared completely inside Sarah’s cloak. I nibbled her ear. She pulled the hood closer around us until my head was just a bulge at the side. I was breathing her perfume on her hair. I was close as I could be to her while we were still clothed. She carried me all the way into her flat.

When we had discussed the Valentine Dance event Sarah had told me that I would be staying the night with her. I had brought an overnight bag including a change of clothes for tomorrow. She had been very direct. She was on the pill. I wouldn’t need condoms but using one might be safer. Wrapped closely inside her cloak I was getting excited at the prospect of a night with Sarah. Until now all we had done was kiss and cuddle. I had come in contact with her clothed breasts several times. Would I meet them naked tonight?

In the living room Sarah took her cloak off us. I blinked in the sudden light after the complete darkness inside her hood. She put me down. I took my coat off.

“And your jacket, Geoff,” Sarah said.

She hung her cloak and my coat in the hall cupboard. She put my jacket on a hanger before hooking it on the cupboard’s handle.

“Now we can play. You can meet my breasts properly,” she announced. “Please come here.”

I stood in front of her. I was looking up until she moved closer. Her breasts were inches in front of my face. She reached under her jacket to push the shoulder straps of her gown sideways.

“I think this might work,” Sarah said as her hands grasped the lower edge of her jacket. She pulled it outwards and over my head. I gasped as she let the material go. It dragged my face into her cleavage. Her breasts splayed aside. I felt Sarah’s hand pushing the back of my head. I was sinking into soft perfumed flesh.

“It does!” Sarah’s voice was exultant. “And…”

Her hands moved from behind my head to push her breasts together. I wouldn’t have believed it possible but they closed together around the back of my head. I was surrounded by Sarah’s breasts with my whole head wrapped by them. I was suffocating but this was a wonderful experience. Sarah released the pressure of her hands so I could get some air in the small gap between my face and her body.

I heard and felt Sarah undoing the zip on the jacket. Her breasts slumped sideways and I could breathe freely.

“You’ve met my booby trap, Geoff. Like it?”

I tried to answer Sarah. As I opened my mouth she pushed her breasts together. My words were stifled by her breasts. I grunted. Sarah giggled.

“Poor Geoff! Trapped between my boobies, swamped in breasts, blindfolded, gagged and suffocated. I like having you controlled by boobies but I suppose I ought to let you breathe…”

Sarah relaxed her hold and moved backwards. She took her jacket off and replaced her shoulder straps. I rested on her gown’s bodice with her breasts just above my head.

An hour later we were in her large double bed. I was naked. Sarah was wearing a large nightdress, too large even for her. We were lying side by side face to face and talking. I was aware of her large breasts pressed against me. We were finding out more about each other but both of us were aroused. Sarah’s nipples were erect. So was I.

In mid-sentence Sarah grabbed me, pushing my head down against the nightdress covering her breasts. She finished what she was saying. I didn’t hear it. My ears were covered by her breasts. She lifted my head.

“I want you, Geoff.” She said. “I think you should ride me this first time. OK?”

“Yes,” I said before my head was in her cleavage again.

Sarah let me go long enough for me to fit a condom. As soon as it was on she dragged my head back into her cleavage.

Sarah pulled up the hem of her nightdress and positioned my erection against her lower lips. Her legs clamped around me. As they did her lips opened and my erection slid in as if her cleft was made for me. I tried to push but my legs had no leverage. Sarah’s legs did all the work as we aroused each other to excited coupling. I was able to hold back as she started an orgasm. I still held back as my head sunk between her breasts. She went into the spasm of another orgasm. Sarah slid her nightdress from under my face and up to her neck. I was almost unable to restrain my ejaculation. After a third shudder from her she pressed her naked breasts around my head.

That was it. I came into the condom uncontrollably. Sarah’s arms and legs held on to my body. As I slumped she slid her nightdress down with me held inside against her skin. Her breasts dropped sideways allowing me to breathe. I tried to slide myself out of her.

“No you don’t,” Sarah said quietly. “You’re my prisoner, Geoff, trapped by my breasts, my nightie, and my cleft. You’re going nowhere until we’ve done it again.”

I relaxed cradled against the softness of Sarah’s massive breasts. I was breathing her perfume and the natural scent of her body. If this was being her prisoner, I could enjoy my captivity.

We made love twice more that night. After the last time Sarah lay on her side against my back. My head was under her chin. Her nightdress was pulled down between us. One of her clothed breasts was flopped across my shoulder. I fell asleep in her arms very aware that I had an attractive woman cuddling me.


That Valentine’s night was the first of many. We became engaged in May. We went to a jewellers to buy her an engagement ring. We had a mild argument in the shop. I wanted to buy her a ring she would value. She wanted just a ring but a cheap one. If we were going to get married we needed to save every penny towards a deposit on our first home.

The woman shop assistant, Heather, was one of Sarah’s slightly older relations who knew both of us. She was amused, not just by our argument about how little we would spend, but by Sarah’s way to end my protest. Sarah decided on the price of the ring. I was going to object but my objection was stifled by being hugged with my head in her cleavage.

“I wish I could do that to my husband, Sarah,” Heather said.

Heather was nearly as tall as Sarah but Heather’s breasts, although large, were in proportion to her build.

“There are real disadvantages, Heather,” Sarah replied. “Unless I buy heavyweight bras I have constant back pain. Geoff enjoys them…”

Sarah relaxed her hold so I could pull my head out.

“I do, Heather, but I like to be able to breathe too.”

I spent about ten per cent more than the cheapest ring in the shop. Heather congratulated us. She and Sarah kissed each other. Heather whispered in Sarah’s ear. Suddenly Sarah pushed me forwards. Heather’s arms wrapped around my head, holding me between her breasts.

“There you are, Geoff,” Heather said. “You can breathe when in a smaller cleavage.”

I might have been able to if Sarah hadn’t pushed her breasts either side of my head making it the filling in a four breast sandwich.

“I’m pleased to have met you properly, Geoff,” Heather said as the two of them released me.

“I’m pleased too, Heather, but I would like an opportunity to breathe first before…”

Heather hugged me again but this time she leant over to kiss my lips.

“When you two are married, Geoff, we’ll be kissing cousins. I’ll let you breathe most of the time.”

As I met more and more of Sarah’s family I found that all the women liked grabbing me for a hug against or between their breasts. Sarah explained once that they liked me and particularly my height, ideal for breast smothering. It took some time before she admitted that she had also told them I liked breasts. She had encouraged her adult female relations to use their breasts on me. None of them had boobies as large as Sarah’s and she knew they didn’t.


Sarah could have worn a wide-skirted gown for our wedding. She didn’t. She wore a slim gown with a prominent bustle and a train. Her veil extended beyond the train. She had chosen her four largest cousins as bridesmaids. They also had bustled dresses but in pastel blue.

Her tall father walked her down the aisle followed by the four tall bridesmaids. Even though the congregation was standing, all six people in the procession were taller than almost everyone else.

At the altar, as agreed at the rehearsal, I stood one step higher than Sarah. It didn’t make much difference. My head was still lower than her chin, but it meant the congregation could see me.

As we walked down the aisle after the wedding I knew I looked ridiculous beside Sarah and her bridesmaids. I didn’t care. I had married the woman I loved; the woman who loved me. Our disparity in size didn’t matter to us.

It was slightly awkward at the reception. During our first dance together as husband and wife Sarah had to lead. I couldn’t see over or past her. My head was in her cleavage most of the time. Her dance with her father was more traditional, but again pre-arranged we followed that with a comedy routine. I sat on Sarah’s bustle with my arms and legs around her. Her chief bridesmaid covered me with Sarah’s veil as Sarah danced with her father again, with her husband as a passenger. Later on in the evening, after considerable quantities of alcohol had been drunk, all four bridesmaids took it in turn to give me a piggyback ride on their bustles. While that made me look ridiculous, all four repaid me by hugging me and smothering me in their cleavages. That made some of their boyfriends jealous until the bridesmaids breast-smothered them too.

For most of our wedding night I was the victim of Sarah’s booby trap. We had already found that when I penetrated Sarah my head was between her breasts because my legs are a significant part of my height. Sarah was wearing a sleep bra which she flipped behind my head. I could have eased it off with my hands except when she was riding me. I couldn’t displace her weight enough to get free from her cleavage. She let me breathe most of the time.

Once both of us had reach an orgasm Sarah turned on her side. My head was still trapped by the sleep bra but I could breathe enough. We slept like that until Sarah moved. That was enough to remind us that this was the first night of our honeymoon. This time I rode her. Even wearing the bra her breasts flopped sideways enough for me to breathe freely.
By the morning we had lost count of how many times, not a record, but enough to consider the night a success. We showered and started to get dressed. Or I did. Sarah had put her panties on and a bra I had never seen before. She grabbed me, pulled my head into her cleavage and then unfastened the front of the bra. She did it up again with my head in her booby trap.

“Like it, Geoff?” She asked.

I could barely hear her. My ears were covered by her breasts. I tried to speak. I was muffled by soft warm flesh.
Sarah’s hands pulled at the bra to give me a tiny amount of room.

“Like it, Geoff?” She repeated.

“Yes, Sarah, if I survive,” I replied. “I do need to breathe sometimes, please. I don’t want to suffocate the day after our wedding…”

I might have said more but Sarah let the bra squash me between her breasts again. This new bra made her booby trap almost totally surrounding my head.

“It’s a maternity bra, slightly large even for me,” Sarah said in a conversational tone, “but I suppose it does make my booby trap dangerous – for you.”

Sarah relented, unfastened the bra, and we dressed normally. After breakfast we went out for the day even though we knew we really wanted to be back in bed making love.

That night Sarah opened a parcel to show another new bra.

“This was one of Heather’s wedding presents to us,” Sarah said. “It’s a longer line one. Whether it will work…”

It did. It held my head in Sarah’s booby trap but the lower part went around the back of my neck. I couldn’t pull my head out. Sarah encouraged me to try, using my hands while she was on her back on the bed. Unless I could get my hands behind her back to the fastening, I couldn’t escape from Sarah’s breasts. Her weight made my attempts to reach the bra clasp impossible. Heather’s present made me helpless to escape the booby trap yet the cups were just loose enough to let me have some air.


Sarah’s booby trap claimed me again. I’m surrounded by breasts, smothered between breasts, made helpless by breasts – and I enjoy them again and again. Sarah’s booby trap has claimed me for life.

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