"She’s been wearing that bl*ck bodysuit all day. Tight, clingy, high-cut—every inch of it molded to her skin, sealed to the heat between her thighs and the curve of her *ss. I saw her pacing the apartment earlier, lounging on the couch, stretching lazily in the kitchen—always in that same bodysuit, marinating herself in her own scent. She didn’t say anything about what was coming. She didn’t have to.

When she finally calls me over, it’s with a snap of her fingers and a look that tells me I’m not here to speak, not here to be seen—just used. She plants herself down on my face without a word, straddling me in reverse, her full weight settling with slow, deliberate pressure. The moment her *ss makes contact, my breath catches. My nose is buried instantly, pressed hard up into the seam of her bodysuit—right between her cheeks, right where she’s soaked it with hours of heat and scent.

This is facesitting. Not playful. Not gentle. Full-weight, sm*thering, degrading. She leans forward slightly to grab the controller, legs spread wide, thighs locked around my head like I’m just a cushion. Her game begins. And for the next hour, I am nothing but the thing she’s sitting on.

She doesn't look down. Doesn’t speak. Just shifts now and then, her body grinding against my face as she reacts to the game. The bodysuit grows damper with every passing minute, soaking through, smearing my face with the pure, musky proof of her day. My nose is crushed right into her *sshole, my lips sm*thered by the soft give of her body. The only air I get is what leaks around her weight—tainted, sweaty, addictive.

And still, she says nothing. My desperation grows. I arch my tongue, try to move, but there’s nowhere to go. Her *ss keeps me caged, silenced. I’m c*mpletely buried in her, and she doesn’t even flinch.

Then, without warning, she pauses her game. Shifts her hips. Lifts just enough to turn around—slow, smooth, methodical. She straddles me again, now facing forward, her eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before she lowers herself straight down. Her p*ssy makes full contact with my face—wet, swollen, soaked through the fabric. This close, there’s no escape. My nose slides up between her folds, and she grinds down firmly, sealing me in.

“Keep sn*ffing,” she mutters, voice low, distracted as she picks her controller back up. “I haven’t showered.”

Then she’s back to her game. And I’m back where she wants me: pinned, silenced, sm*thering in the scent of her body. Her thighs press tighter. My lungs b*rn. And all I can do is take it—helpless beneath her in this quiet, br*tal ritual of facesitting."

Frauen Domination Face Sitting Ersticken Ignored and Sm*thered: Full-Weight Facesitting in Her Day-Worn Bodysuit mit C4s.com