Tori was going to spend two months with her father in Arizona. She would leave June 13th, two days after the school year ended. But, what in the hell would I do? I had become so hooked on her facesitting me and … her smell. And I felt angry that while the news was devastating to me, it seemed to have little impact on her.
What a sap! What a sucker I was! It wasn’t her fault. I was the one who had become so lost in her ass that I had ignored common sense and the probability that the day would come when her butt wouldn’t be in my face. I was the one who hadn’t planned ahead.
And so, I began looking for handrails. Something to hold on to. Anything to prop me up so I could come to some kind of a future without her. I thought one handrail might be Angela, but I could never approach a girl like her. Maybe hookers. But hell, I didn’t have money for hookers.
Then, I realized there were two handrails that I could hold on to and they could never be taken from me. They were these two facts:
1. A high school girl had actually sat on my face! No one could take that away!
2. I had smelled Tori Rollins’ butt!
The day she left, I meandered without a plan. Eventually, I stumbled to the mall and that helped. There were girls and their cute butts became fodder for more late-night handiwork which was seeming more and more to be the preferred panacea for the sexually downtrodden.
A week later as I was returning from the neighborhood convenience store, I heard a voice. It was Tori’s mother standing with the screen door open and a half-burnt cigarette in her hand.
Lori was a full woman. She had thickish thighs but not fat. A full torso but not overweight. Her hair was very fine, mostly brown, and tinged with silvery-gold strands. Her face was squarish and while it was clearly that of a woman in her 40’s, it retained sharp features from her youth that evoked reminders of just how pretty she had once been.
She called me over and crushed the cigarette. “I know you miss Tori. Why don’t you come in. We can talk about. I’m sure it will help.”
She offered to pour some of her beer into a glass. I declined.
She made small talk and told me that “Tori has friends in Mesa. Making friends has always been easy for her.” She stood and ambled toward me. “It’s nice she can do that. Not everyone can. Like … Like you. You don’t seem to, do you—make friends easily? I never see you with anyone. Was Tori your only friend? That must be why you look so forlorn.”
I wished I had accepted her beer.
“Or, is there something else? Is there? I mean … you know …” She paused again.
“The other.”
Other? What?
“Bryan. I’m not stupid. I know about ‘the other’.”
I was sitting on the sofa and she approached and knelt and her fingertips touched my denim-covered knees. Her smile was friendly. “Silly boy. Of course I noticed.”
“Those vacant eyes. How you watch her.” She was close enough for me to smell beer on her breath.
“The panty lines.”
“Wh … what … ?”
“Panty lines, Bryan.” Her eyes studied mine. “On your face.”
I felt my head going side-to-side with some unauthorized and hapless attempt to deny what she was saying.
“Bryan, I’ve been around. I know she was sitting on your face—everytime you came over here. Just admit it. Besides … you’re not the first.”
Not the first? What?
“I’m quite sure she’s being doing it for quite some time.” She sipped some beer and then with surprising indifference added, “Like mother; like daughter.”
I couldn’t remember my logical pathways ever being more disordered.
“Bryan, if you admit it, then I can help you deal with her being gone. I mean … after all … “ she said while her index finger softly circled my cheek, “it’s not every day that I get to sit on such a pretty young face.”
Was she serious? Did she … but, she was a full woman … I couldn’t … I wouldn’t … would I?
“All Summer, Bryan. As much as you like. You come over anytime and I will sit on your face.”
I couldn’t … to many reasons … she wasn’t high school … full woman’s rear … suffocate … not the same … Tori finding out … I couldn’t …
But, she had said “all Summer”. Sit on my face … all Summer. She wasn’t high school … but … all Summer. She was a full grown woman, but she had said … sit on my face … anytime. I couldn’t … but … butt-lust. I couldn’t … I wouldn’t … but … would I?
“I love sitting on faces.” Her fingered continued to circle my cheek. “Come on…”
She stood and her hand pulled mine and like a puppet with a wooden head, I followed to the threshold of her bedroom and perils unknown. Within minutes, I was on my back in a drape-drawn dim room. Her ceiling was different from Tori’s and it had a slow-whirring ceiling fan which I began wishing was an airplane propeller so it could chop me up and put an end to my intense inner turmoil.
What had I gotten myself into? Would I even survive?
Except for that fan, the room was quiet. I felt the mattress move and without looking, I knew Lori was approaching. My head screamed to run like hell but my body lay deaf.
“Now Bryan, just let it happen. We both want this so just lay still and enjoy.”
She was wearing a thin, wrinkled, cotton dress that I think is known as a kitchen or household dress. It was dulled-white and had wide, faded blue vertical stripes and was loose-fitting. She pulled it up until it revealed off-white panties that I believe are called “full backs”—something less than granny-panties, but something more than bikini. She pulled them off and flung them aside.
She straddled me and I was immediately in awe! Her ass was so much bigger than Tori’s. A full woman’s ass. Right there, bare and spreading right before my face. A full woman with a full rear-end. She hovered before me and began to slowly descend. I lay helpless—helpless to my own fear and lust and confusion and need.
Then . . .
It touched my face. My body jerked. It began to fuse itself to me. Her soft cheeks settled in and nestled down and her ass became one with my face. I felt my nose deep in the very center and . . .
Damn!
It was . . . How do I say it?
The depths of her deep “canyon”—where my nose was—that very center of her nether universe—was…
Moist.
No … more like … wet.
Actually … more like … sloshy wet.
She had eased into position on my nose by the forces of gravity and the lubrication from the viscuous goo of her humid depths. When she moved, her ass made squishy sounds and when she sat harder, it felt like she was compressing her “ass dew” into my facial skin. I wondered if it would clog my pores. I wondered if I would then get acne. I wondered if that was how those acned-ruddy faces at school got that way—because fully adult women were sitting on their faces and rubbing ass-wetness into their pores.
It was so different. Tori who had simply been tacky with near-dryness.
As Lori she slowly ground it into me, I felt some of her moisture beginning to press up into my nostrils. I knew that once it was there, the smell of her womanly rear-end would be with me for hours. Every time I breathed, I would smell Lori’s ass.
Eventually she rose and she turned around and brought her face close to mine. I had no idea what she was doing until she said, “Ah, very good! You’re beginning to smell just like you should!”