Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Copyright Oggbashan October 2002 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.
* * * * *
I drove through the country lanes with the summer evening sun glinting in my rear view mirror. I should have been enjoying the scenery but I was slightly nervous. I was going to an ante-natal class. The classes were privately run and held in the instructor’s large living room. This time I was without my wife Maureen. She would be late tonight. She would come by taxi after her appointment with the doctor. Although I had been going to the classes with her since she had joined, I have never been without her. Why should I? She was the one who was pregnant, not me.
Maureen originally thought that I ought to know as much about her pregnancy as she did but recently I had been irritating her. I knew MORE than she did. We’d argued about it. She told me that I was upsetting the other class members as well. Perhaps I had. I’d read the set book before the classes had started. I did the homework each week. I wasn’t tired out by carrying a heavy lump. Although all eight lady members were due to give birth in a month or less, I was better informed than they were.
The other husbands had come to the first lesson or so but now I was the only husband still attending. The others had found excuses not to come. Perhaps, although I wouldn’t admit it even to myself, I continued to come because I found pregnant women incredibly sexy.
As usual I carried two foam sleeping mats and the bag of Maureen’s equipment. Tonight’s class would be slightly different. After the breathing and relaxation exercises there would be a talk from a teacher from a breast-feeding support group. That group encouraged breast feeding and provided one-to-one support from recent mothers who were feeding or had recently breast fed their own baby. The breast-feeding teacher would bring a mother who had attended an earlier series of the ante-natal classes.
As with many clubs and groups in our town, all the members knew each other. It is a small town. Not only did I know all the members of the class, I knew their husbands too.
I had no clue that the class was planning a different evening for me. Maureen hadn’t given a sign that anything other than the normal class was arranged.
If I’d known that the “mother” attending was Geraldine, Maureen’s brother’s wife, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged me to that class. I had been engaged to Geraldine a few years ago. We broke up angrily and both said things we’d rather forget. She told me that I was a self-opinionated prig and I made rude comments about the small size of her breasts. We had to meet sometimes but the atmosphere between us could still be cut with a knife.
We started as usual. We laid down on the sleeping mats to start the relaxation exercises. This was my weakest point. I couldn’t relax easily. Hazel, the instructor, came over to me.
“Brian! You are not relaxing. It’s really important in the later stages of pregnancy. Look at Wendy and Clare. They have flopped. You are still tense. I think you need some help understanding what hard work it can be carrying a baby around.” She turned to Wendy.
“Wendy, can you get the empathy box, please?”
Wendy left the room and returned with something that looked more like a suitcase than a box. It was obviously heavy.
Hazel turned to me.
“We have been loaned this empathy kit. It is intended to give husbands some idea of what their wives have to endure while pregnant. Since you are the only husband left I think that you should try it.”
She opened the case and pulled out casino şirketleri a heavy corset. It looked like a costume for playing Falstaff – very big-bellied.
“This has been designed to feel like carrying the weight of a pregnancy at eight months. I want you to put it on.”
Hazel paused. I wanted to protest but Wendy and Clare were squatting either side of me. They are normally large women and now, eight months pregnant, they were enormous. They looked as if they’d be delighted to assist Hazel in getting the empathy kit on me. I gulped. I’d upset both Wendy and Clare during the classes.
“Brian!” said Wendy “You can’t put it on dressed as you are. You’ll have to strip to your pants!”
I was about to protest but the look in Wendy and Clare’s eyes was enough. I stripped. I heard faint giggles from some of the others. I don’t think there was anyone sympathetic to me. I’d upset all of them at one class or another.
Hazel lifted up the corset and tried to put it on me. It was vest-shaped and laced at the back. It wouldn’t go over my head so she put it down and totally unlaced the back. Then she offered it up for me to put my arms into the armholes. I couldn’t. The armholes were too small and wouldn’t pass beyond my elbows.
“Oh dear,” she said “It must have been designed for someone smaller than you. I want you to wear it but I can’t see how.”
Wendy leant forward and whispered in her ear. Wendy seemed to have a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Well … I suppose so.” said Hazel quietly. “Do you really think so, Wendy?”
Hazel said to me “Wendy suggested that we put it on with your arms inside it. It seems to be the only way it could go on.”
“But I wouldn’t be able to …” I started to say before the rest of the class applauded the idea.
I didn’t want to put it on like that but I was surrounded by women that I’d irritated. They weren’t prepared to accept a “No” from me.
Wendy helped Hazel to put the corset round me. It may have had small armholes but the rest of it was large enough. It was really heavy. While Hazel adjusted it on my shoulders Wendy and Clare laced the back. One of them pulled my hands down and round to the lower back of the corset. The other laced it tightly. Somehow she tied my wrists into the corset’s lacing before knotting it. Then I was released.
I staggered as I felt the full weight of the “empathy lump”. It was dragging me forward and down. Instinctively I arched my back to compensate. The weighted “breasts” dragged on my shoulders. My head went back.
“Now walk around the room” ordered Hazel.
I waddled round the room followed by helpful suggestions – “Back straight! Head up!”
I felt terrible. And – yes – I did begin to realise what they were going through. It was very uncomfortable carrying all that weight in such an awkward position. I slowly rolled back to Hazel.
“Now try lying down,” she said “Wendy, Clare, please help him.”
The two women helped me to kneel and lowered me forward. The lump dug into me, emptying my lungs. They rolled me on to my back. I lay there panting with the weight pressing down into my stomach and across my chest.
“Now try to stand up” Hazel asked.
I couldn’t. With my arms clamped inside the corset all I could do was thrash my legs. I felt like an upturned tortoise.
“It isn’t easy, is it?” said Hazel “Now just lie there and relax while we continue with the class.”.
What else could I do? I was stranded like a beached whale. Without help I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t even turn over.
While I was lying there Maureen arrived.
“Hello, darling,” she said brightly as she lay down beside me “Enjoying yourself?”
“No. I’m not!” I hissed at her. “I’m stuck and can’t get up.”
“What casino firmaları a shame.” Maureen was enjoying my predicament. “Perhaps now you know how I and the others feel about being pregnant. That might teach you to be more understanding.”
I bit back an angry retort because just then the door opened and Geraldine came into the room followed by another woman I didn’t know. The sight of Geraldine worried me immensely. If she was in on the plot then I knew I was in trouble. She and the other woman ignored me as though my position was normal. Maureen moved close to me, dragging her mattress with her.
“Hello, Hazel. Hello everybody.” said Geraldine. “This is Mary, the breast feeding tutor.”
“Hello” said Mary.
Then Mary started her talk to the class just as if everything was perfectly normal. I lay flat on the mattress with my arms tightly lashed, while Mary lectured on the techniques and advantages of breastfeeding. From time to time Maureen stroked my hair or lightly hugged me but otherwise I was ignored completely.
I couldn’t understand what was happening or what was to happen until Mary said that there would be a practical demonstration.
Maureen moved and sat with her back to the wall. Wendy and Clare dragged me across the floor like a sack of potatoes and laid my head against my wife’s shoulder. Maureen’s arms closed round me, holding me in place. Geraldine walked across to us, unbuttoned the front of her dress and lifted her bra. She knelt beside Maureen, opened my mouth with her fingers and stuffed her left breast in. She pressed a finger down on her breast to allow my nose to get some air. As she did so she hissed in my ear “Suck!”
I sucked. Warm milk spurted into me. I swallowed. If I hadn’t I might have drowned. Geraldine’s milk was flowing freely. I was distantly aware of Mary’s voice explaining what was happening inside Geraldine’s breast. I could feel Maureen’s body getting aroused. So was mine.
Geraldine hissed in my ear again.
“Not bad for small breasts are they, Brian?”
I nodded as best as I could. I was in no position to antagonise her. Besides they’d always been great breasts. I’d only said they were small when we were trying to hurt each other as much as we could. Now that she was breast-feeding – they were magnificent!
The class gathered round us as Mary explained the various positions for breast-feeding. Geraldine demonstrated each on me, then swapped breasts and flooded me again. Finally she withdrew but every member of the class took turns to try breast-feeding me.
After seven pairs of breasts I felt bruised and tired of sucking. Yet Geraldine fed me again. This time she was very gentle and soothing. I felt myself drifting off to sleep despite my uncomfortable position. Maureen brought me back.
“There are some things you can’t do, Brian, aren’t there?”
“Have you learned today’s lesson – not to be so big-headed?”
I nodded again.
“Then it’s my turn to feed you.”
Maureen turned to the others.
“Help him move, please.”
This time they were gentle. They lifted me away from Maureen and held me while Geraldine took Maureen’s place. Geraldine held my head with its back cradled between her breasts while Maureen moved into position.
Maureen knelt in front of me with her breasts exposed. She leant forward and softly filled my mouth with a breast. I sucked until she swapped breasts and “fed” me again. This time I did go to sleep held by Geraldine and sandwiched between her and Maureen.
When I came to it was dark outside. I was still between Geraldine’s breasts. Maureen was kneeling in front of us. The others had gone.
“Hello again, Brian” Geraldine said.
“Hello,” I said weakly.
“Are we forgiven?” she asked.
“Forgiven? güvenilir casino For what?” I asked her.
“For humiliating you and taking revenge for your big-headedness.”
“Oh that,” I said “I only remember that I’ve been loved by a lot of big-hearted women tonight. That is what I’ll remember.”
Maureen and Geraldine hugged me.
“And I haven’t got small breasts?” Geraldine continued.
“No. You haven’t. You never had. Your breasts were always wonderful. When we were splitting up we said unkind things to each other. I was glad to meet your breasts again tonight. If anything they are much better now than I remembered.”
Geraldine looked above my head at Maureen who nodded.
“I’ll leave you with a last sample. My son is staying with friends tonight. She’ll have fed him so if I don’t feed you again my breasts will be bloated in the morning.”
Maureen turned me so that I was lying in Geraldine’s lap. My mouth was filled with Geraldine’s breast milk as she and Maureen held me.
They had one last lesson for me. They pulled my trousers and sweater over the corset and loaded me into our car. Maureen drove me home. She helped me out and up the stairs to the bedroom. Then she pushed me over on to the bed. I lay there unable to move. She stripped her dress off, then her tights, bra and panties. I asked her to release me. She wriggled me out of my sweater, pulled my trousers down to my ankles, and then stopped.
“No.” she said “I don’t think you’ve had long enough.”
“Yes I have. It’s not a joke anymore. Come on. Let me out.”
I’d intended to say more but Maureen picked up her panties and stuffed them in my mouth. Then she wound her bra round my face and tied it behind my head. I couldn’t stop her using her tights to tie my ankles together and to the bottom of the bed. Then she pulled my trousers off. I watched impotently as she readied herself for bed and put on the voluminous white silk night-dress we’d nicknamed her “wedding dress”.
She lay beside me and whispered in my ear.
“Tonight it’s your turn to lie back and let things happen. I love you but you’ve been a nuisance to the ante-natal class. If you’ll agree to be good from now on I’ll ungag you. OK?”
She ungagged me. I needed my mouth almost immediately because she straddled me and ordered me to lick her. I disappeared under her silken skirt of her night-dress. She held me between her thighs and under her sex. From time to time I had to breathe but I could only do so when Maureen let me. Whenever I could I looked up at the swelling bulge above me and her enlarged breasts holding the night-dress tented above me.
Eventually she slid down my body and rode my erection to a climax. Our bulges slapped together as she moved faster and faster. Throughout her love-making my head was still covered by white silk.
She rolled off me. There was one final humiliation for me.
She pulled her night-dress over me, pulling it tightly down my back despite “my” bulging breasts and belly. We were squeezed together. Just before she tugged her night-dress top over my head she pushed a breast deep into my mouth. I couldn’t displace it because I was trapped by the white silk of her bodice. She rolled us so that we were facing each other side by side.
She closed her eyes saying:
“Sleep well, darling. See you in the morning.”
I lay there impotently gagged into silence before I too went to sleep. In the morning she released me. It took me some time to get back the use of my arms but the relief of shedding that weight was wonderful.
That had been the last ante-natal class I attended. Geraldine and I were friends again. Maureen sometimes fed me after our son was born. And seven other women in our town behaved as if they owned part of me. In a way, they did.
PS Later, when I looked at the “empathy” corset before Maureen returned it to Hazel, I noticed that the arm holes had some new stitching around them. They’d been deliberately made smaller. I’d been set up from the beginning!
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32