"She’s wearing those pink scrunch leggings again—the ones that ride up and cling to every inch of her *ss like they were made to facesit me. I’m already lying down, heart pounding, knowing exactly where this is going. She barely glances at me. Just grabs her controller, turns around, and lowers herself onto my face in reverse. Casual. Effortless. Like she’s done facesitting it a hundred times.

The moment her *ss presses down, my world disappears. That seam—tight and unforgiving—splits me open. My nose is right where she wants it: wedged deep into her *sshole, sealed in by the clingy fabric and the heat radiating off her skin. There’s no air here. Just scent. Thick, dizzying, inescapable.

She starts gaming, all her focus on the screen. Not a word to me. Not a glance. She leans forward slightly to get comfortable, which only drives her weight harder into my face. The pressure climbs with every second. I can feel the subtle shifts of her hips as she plays—tiny adjustments that grind her *ss back into me, dragging me deeper into her, rubbing my nose along every line and fold under the fabric. She’s not sitting on my face. She’s using it.

My hands twitch uselessly at my sides. I’m not restrained, but I’m paralyzed under the weight of her indifference. Her *ss pulses with life—subtle clenches, soft sweats, the rhythm of her body fully relaxed and unbothered by my desperation. I’m not a person to her in this moment. I’m furniture. A face-shaped seat.

She shifts again. My nose is now fully buried in her *sshole, flattened against the seam. Each inhale is a struggle—a faint wisp of her scent, humid and overpowering, stealing the last of my thoughts. I try to stay still, to not disturb her game. I try to focus on the pressure, the way her cheeks swell and mold around me. But the longer she stays, the more my mind fogs with need.

Then, after what feels like forever, the energy changes. I can feel her start to lean back, settling deeper, taking her victory lap right on my face. And then she does it.

She drops her full weight.

No warning. No care. Just everything—hips, thighs, *ss—crashing down in a slow, final sit. My nose is sealed so tightly in her *sshole I can’t tell where she ends and I begin. My lungs scream. My mind spins. Her weight is everything now. A full-body press into submission.

She finishes her game.

Doesn’t move.

Game over. I’m still underneath."

Frauen Domination Face Sitting Ersticken Facesitting Gamer Girl - I’m Just Her Cushion mit C4s.com