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I can’t stop imagining the moment when Moom’s luscious moombutt lowering itself onto my face. The sheer mass of her booty blocking out all light, warmth, and air. I want to feel the exact moment when her flesh makes contact with my skin, the way the weight would build gradually, then suddenly crash down like a smothering wave. My nose would be buried deep between the pillowy folds, surrounded by nothing but Moom herself.
Each second beneath the moombutt would be a form of suffocating bliss, a heaven forged from her complete control. I want to feel the weight increase, the soft yet firm flesh compressing my face, forcing every thought, every sensation, to be about her.
I want to feel Moom's scent filling the tight space between us, a scent that would grow stronger, more intense, the longer she stays perched atop me. I wouldn’t want it to end, craving each second that her weight presses down on my head, squishing my features flat beneath her, forcing my face to reshape itself around her form.
And then, in that suffocating, intoxicating darkness, I want Moom to let go, to release a fart with such raw, earthy power that it reverberates through her flesh and straight into me. I want to feel that explosion of gas, hot and rank, bursting from her as if her body can no longer hold back. The air would thicken with the acrid scent, so foul and pure that it becomes all I can breathe, filling my lungs in a rush of heat and musk.
I want to drown beneath Moom, to suffocate on her gas, to be crushed and humiliated beneath the vast, overpowering glory of the moombutt.
