By: ridemenow
The basement couch springs groaned under Noah’s weight as he flopped down. Upstairs, the muffled thump of dance music vibrated through the ceiling – Aunt Carol’s annual family reunion in full, chaotic swing. He tugged at the collar of his button-up shirt, already wrinkled. "Could they be any louder?"
Tori slumped beside him, kicking off her sandals. She tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, glancing toward the stairs as if expecting an invasion. "Tell me about it. Uncle Dave cornered me again about my ‘future prospects’. Like accounting is the only valid life choice." She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest. "Anyway, speaking of weird choices… my roommate, Jenna? Total facesitting enthusiast."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Facesitting? Like… literally?" He shifted on the couch, the worn leather creaking. The scent of dust and old books hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of spilled punch drifting down from above.
Tori nodded, picking at a loose thread on her leggings. "Yeah. She goes on about it constantly. How it's empowering, intimate, all that." She shrugged, a hint of bafflement in her voice. "Honestly? I just don't get the hype. Seems… messy? Claustrophobic? I dunno." She glanced sideways at Noah. "You ever tried anything like that?"
Noah snorted softly, leaning back against the worn cushions. "Me? Nah. Closest I've gotten is getting smothered by my dog when he sits on my head." He ran a hand through his dark hair, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But Jenna… she’s into it? Like, actively?" Curiosity flickered in his eyes, genuine and unguarded in the dim basement light filtering from a single floor lamp.
The creak of the basement stairs cut through their bubble of privacy. Both cousins stiffened, instinctively pulling apart slightly. Aunt Amanda emerged, her sensible flats silent on the carpeted steps. Her floral dress looked crisp despite the chaos upstairs, her expression a mix of maternal concern and mild exasperation. "Hiding from the circus, are we?" she asked, her voice warm but carrying easily over the muffled bass beat. She settled herself gracefully onto the armchair opposite them, smoothing her skirt. "Heard snippets. Facesitting?" A knowing, almost mischievous smile touched her lips. "Oh, honey, that’s one of my favorite weekend activities." She saw their identical looks of stunned disbelief – Tori’s jaw slightly slack, Noah’s eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.
Tori recovered first, leaning forward, her earlier bafflement replaced by intense curiosity. "Wait… You? Seriously?" The concept of her practical, cookie-baking aunt engaging in something so… specific felt utterly surreal. "But Jenna makes it sound like this whole big empowering thing. What’s… what’s the appeal?" Her gaze flickered between Amanda and Noah, seeking confirmation that this reality hadn't tilted.
Amanda chuckled softly, the sound warm and knowing in the dim basement. She adjusted a simple silver bangle on her wrist. "Empowering? Absolutely. But it's simpler than Jenna probably makes it sound, sweetheart. It’s about trust. Complete surrender. Giving someone that kind of control… and them cherishing it." Her eyes held a sparkle Tori rarely saw. "It’s incredibly intimate. Quiet." She paused, seeing the genuine, slightly overwhelmed interest on Tori’s face. "Words don't really do it justice, hon. It’s a feeling."
Tori leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her earlier skepticism replaced by a fascinated intensity. "But… how? How do you even… start?" The muffled thump of music upstairs felt worlds away now, replaced by the soft hum of the fridge and the faint scent of Amanda's lavender perfume mingling with dust. "Like, practically?"
Amanda smiled, a gentle curve of lips that held decades of unspoken understanding. "Well, honey, you need two willing participants. One who trusts enough to surrender," her gaze drifted meaningfully towards Tori, "and one who understands the profound responsibility of holding that trust." Her eyes then shifted to Noah, who sat frozen, processing this surreal turn in family reunion small talk. "Noah, dear," Amanda asked, her tone casual yet deliberate, "would you mind terribly being our volunteer? Just for a demonstration, purely educational."
Noah blinked, the muffled thump of upstairs music suddenly sharpening back into his awareness. His throat felt dry. He glanced at Tori, her expression a fascinating mix of wide-eyed curiosity and hesitant intrigue. This wasn't Uncle Dave grilling him about internships. This was... something else entirely. "Uh... sure?" he managed, the word escaping before his brain fully caught up. "Yeah. Okay. If... if it helps?" He shifted awkwardly on the worn couch springs, suddenly hyper-aware of his own breathing. The scent of dust and old paper seemed sharper now, mixed with Amanda's lavender and the faint, lingering sweetness of punch.
Amanda stood, her movements smooth and unhurried. "Perfect. Lie down flat on your back, right here," she instructed, gesturing to the worn carpet patch between the couch and the armchair. Her tone was calm, practical, almost instructional, like showing someone how to knead dough. Noah obeyed, lowering himself stiffly onto the scratchy fibers. The ceiling tiles swam above him, stained yellow near the single lamp. He felt utterly exposed. Amanda stepped over him, her sensible flats planted firmly on either side of his hips. She looked down, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. From this angle, Noah’s view was dominated by the floral print of her dress draping over generous hips and thighs, blocking out the ceiling light and casting her face in shadow. She seemed immense, powerful, utterly in control. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"See, Tori?" Amanda said, her voice warm but focused. "Positioning is key. Comfort for both." She lowered herself slowly, deliberately, settling her full weight onto his chest. Noah gasped involuntarily as the air rushed from his lungs. She was solid, warm, and surprisingly heavy. Her soft curves pressed down firmly, pinning him completely. He could feel the heat radiating through the thin fabric of her dress and his shirt. Instinctively, he tried to shift, to draw a deeper breath, but it was futile. Her weight was absolute, immovable. He was trapped beneath her, utterly at her mercy. The scent of lavender intensified, mixed with the faint, clean smell of laundry detergent.
Amanda adjusted her hips slightly, leaning forward just enough to maintain eye contact with Tori. "Notice how he's immobilized? Total surrender." Her smile was gentle but held undeniable authority. "Now, the transition..." With deliberate grace, she slid forward along his torso, the friction of fabric against fabric a soft whisper in the quiet basement. Noah felt her thighs brush his cheeks, then the unmistakable pressure of her shorts-covered crotch settling firmly over his nose and mouth. His world narrowed abruptly to the soft, yielding warmth pressing down, blocking out light and air. He could feel the seam of her shorts, the faint outline beneath, and the overwhelming, intimate scent of her body – lavender mixed with something deeper, muskier, uniquely her. His nostrils flared instinctively against the confinement, seeking air that barely came. Panic flickered, instantly followed by a strange, dizzying sense of helplessness.
"See, Tori?" Amanda murmured, her voice slightly muffled from Noah’s perspective but crystal clear to her niece. She began a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, grinding the soft mound against his immobilized face. The movement wasn't violent, but deeply possessive. Each shift pressed his nose deeper into her softness, each roll smothered his mouth more completely. "It's about rhythm... connection." Her thick thighs framed Noah's head like fleshy pillars, trapping him utterly. She reached behind her, her hands finding Noah's chest beneath her shifting weight. Her fingers dug in slightly, not painfully, but possessively, anchoring herself as she continued the slow, grinding motion. "Feel how he breathes?" she asked Tori, her own breath hitching slightly. "Shallow, desperate... trusting me to give him enough." Noah’s muffled gasp was punctuated by a choked whimper, his hands twitching uselessly at his sides.
Tori watched, mesmerized. The sheer power radiating from her aunt was staggering. Amanda wasn't just sitting; she was commanding Noah’s breath, his senses, his entire world. Her floral dress rode up slightly, revealing the sturdy fabric of her shorts stretched taut over her grinding hips. Tori’s gaze flickered downward, past Amanda’s anchoring hands on Noah’s chest. There, tenting the front of Noah’s shorts, was an unmistakable, rigid bulge. Her eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck. Amanda followed her gaze and chuckled, a low, rich sound vibrating through Noah’s skull. "See?" she said, her voice thick with amusement and exertion. She lifted her hips just enough to glance down at Noah’s straining erection. "He doesn’t mind at all, honey. That’s part of the fun... the surrender, the helplessness... it does things." She settled back down with deliberate pressure, eliciting another muffled groan from Noah, whose hips gave an involuntary jerk against the carpet.
A sudden, practical thought pierced Tori’s awe. "But Aunt Amanda," she blurted, leaning forward, her brow furrowed. "What... what if you had to fart? Like, right then?" She gestured vaguely at Amanda’s position. "Wouldn't that be... awkward? Horrible?"
Amanda’s chuckle started low in her chest, a deep rumble Noah felt vibrate through his entire pinned body. It grew louder, richer, echoing slightly in the basement’s quiet. Then, without warning, she pushed down firmly, grinding her hips hard against Noah’s face. Simultaneously, a loud, resonant PRRRRRT erupted directly onto his smothered nose and mouth. The sound was startlingly loud in the stillness, followed by the faint, unmistakable scent of digestive gas mingling intensely with her intimate musk and lavender perfume. Noah’s muffled cry transformed into a frantic, choked gagging sound. His entire body bucked violently beneath her, a desperate, instinctive struggle for air and escape, but her weight held him utterly immobile. His hands scrabbled uselessly at the carpet.
Amanda threw her head back and laughed, a full-throated, delighted sound. "Oh, sweetie!" she gasped between laughs, not lifting her weight an inch as Noah continued to writhe weakly beneath her. "That’s exactly the point!" She resumed her slow, deliberate grinding, the damp fabric of her shorts pressing Noah’s features deeper into her yielding softness with each roll. "If you’re sitting on someone’s face, truly owning them? They’re your chair. Plain and simple." She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper aimed at Tori, thick with amusement and exertion. "And sometimes, honey, chairs just get farted on. It’s part of the surrender. Part of the humiliation." She emphasized the word, grinding harder against Noah’s muffled whimpers. "They accept it all. The intimacy, the scent, the taste… even the unexpected." Her hips moved with renewed purpose, a slow, possessive rhythm that was both cruel and intimate.
Tori watched, transfixed. The sheer, unapologetic dominance radiating from her aunt was staggering. Amanda wasn’t just demonstrating; she was reveling in her absolute control. Her floral dress was bunched high on her thighs now, revealing the straining fabric of her shorts stretched taut over her grinding hips and buttocks. Noah’s struggles had subsided into shallow, frantic breaths whenever Amanda lifted her hips fractionally, only to be plunged back into suffocating darkness with another downward press. His erection strained obscenely against his shorts, untouched, a stark testament to the bewildering cocktail of panic and helpless arousal Amanda commanded. Tori’s own breath caught in her throat, a strange heat pooling low in her belly as she witnessed Noah’s utter submission.
Then Amanda gasped. It wasn't a gasp of surprise, but a deep, shuddering inhalation that seemed to draw all the air from the basement. Her grinding intensified, losing its slow rhythm, becoming frantic, possessive. Her thighs clamped tighter around Noah’s head, her fingers digging bruisingly into his chest. A low, guttural moan vibrated through her, echoing Noah’s muffled whimpers. Tori saw the muscles in Amanda’s abdomen tighten visibly beneath her dress, saw the powerful clench of her buttocks as she drove herself down hard against Noah’s immobilized face. A dark, wet stain bloomed rapidly across the crotch of her shorts, spreading outward, soaking the fabric pressed flush against Noah’s nose and mouth. Amanda threw her head back, a raw cry tearing from her throat – "Yessss!" – as her body convulsed, riding the wave of climax directly onto her nephew’s smothered features. The scent of her release, sharp and musky, instantly overpowered the lingering traces of lavender and fart, flooding Noah’s senses, thick and cloying.
As the tremors subsided, Amanda slumped forward slightly, her breathing ragged. Beneath her, Noah lay utterly still except for the frantic flutter of his ribs fighting for shallow breaths against her crushing weight. Slowly, deliberately, Amanda pushed herself up onto trembling knees, straddling Noah’s chest. Her soaked shorts clung obscenely, the dark patch glistening in the dim light. She took a few deep, steadying breaths, a satisfied flush high on her cheeks. Her gaze, still heavy-lidded and powerful, swept over Noah’s wrecked form – his face slick and flushed, his eyes wide and unfocused, his shorts tented painfully. Then she turned that commanding gaze fully onto Tori. "See?" she rasped, her voice thick with exertion and lingering pleasure. "That’s surrender."
"Now," Amanda commanded, her voice regaining its firmness despite the tremor of exertion. "Noah, up. Go sit on the floor in front of the couch. Head on the cushion." She gestured sharply towards the worn sofa. Noah blinked, dazed, struggling to process the command through the haze of suffocation and overwhelming scent still clinging to his senses. He managed a weak groan, pushing himself shakily onto his elbows. "But… Aunt Amanda…" he started, his voice hoarse and muffled.
Amanda’s gaze snapped to him, sharp as a whip crack. "*Chairs*," she stated, her tone utterly devoid of warmth, "do not talk." The finality in her voice froze any further protest. He scrambled backwards on the carpet, movements clumsy and uncoordinated, until his back hit the base of the couch. He slumped, resting his head heavily on the scratchy fabric of the cushion, his breathing still ragged and shallow. His shorts remained painfully tented, straining against the damp fabric.
With deliberate grace, Amanda hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. The damp fabric peeled away, revealing sturdy thighs and the stark black lace of a thong clinging to her curves. She stepped over Noah’s prone form, her bare feet planted firmly on either side of his hips. The floral hem of her dress brushed his chest as she paused, looking down at him with possessive satisfaction. The scent of her release, sharp and intimate, mingled with lavender and the lingering trace of gas, filling the small space between them. Noah’s eyes squeezed shut, a fresh tremor running through him.
"Much better," Amanda murmured, her voice thick with exertion. She turned her gaze to Tori, a slow, radiant smile spreading across her flushed face. The dim basement light caught the sweat beading at her temples. "I love this position, honey. Unfiltered access." Her hands settled firmly on her hips, emphasizing the powerful swell of her thighs and the provocative cut of the thong. "See how exposed he is? Utterly vulnerable. Ready."
With deliberate grace, Amanda climbed onto the worn couch cushions beside Noah's head. Her bare knees sank into the soft fabric, framing his prone form. She paused directly above his face, looking down. Noah's eyes were wide, pupils dilated with a mixture of residual panic and stunned disbelief. His gaze flickered from the damp patch staining her thong to the sheer dominance radiating from her posture. Amanda’s smile deepened, predatory and satisfied. "Eyes on me, sweetie," she commanded softly. "Watch where you belong."
Noah’s hands twitched, instinctively moving toward the painful bulge straining against his shorts. Amanda’s reaction was instantaneous. Her hand shot out, clamping hard around his wrist before his fingers could make contact. Her grip was iron. "No," she stated, her voice low and dangerous. "You don’t get to do that. Your pleasure isn’t yours to command tonight." She pinned his arm firmly against the cushion beside his head. "Your hands stay right here."
Amanda shifted her weight, settling her knees firmly into the couch cushions on either side of Noah’s head. Her thighs bracketed him like prison bars. With her free hand, she tangled her fingers deep into the dark hair at his temples, gripping hard enough to make him gasp. Her other hand braced against the worn leather backrest of the couch, knuckles white with tension. "Breathe through your nose, sweetie," she commanded, her voice thick with intent. "And open wide for me."
Noah’s jaw trembled but obeyed, parting slightly. Amanda’s smile was radiant, triumphant, as she lowered herself. The soaked black lace thong pressed flush against his lips and nose, warm and heavy with her scent. She began to rock—slow at first, a deliberate grind that smeared her wetness across his face. Noah’s muffled whimper vibrated against her.
"Good boy," Amanda breathed, tightening her grip in his hair. Her hips picked up speed, driving down harder with each forward thrust. The couch springs groaned beneath her knees. Noah’s trapped hands clawed at the cushion, knuckles white as he fought the instinct to push her off. Her rhythm grew urgent, desperate. Beneath her, Noah’s choked gasps turned ragged, starved for air between the relentless pressure of her hips and the suffocating intimacy of her scent.
Tori watched, frozen. The raw sounds filled the basement – the wet slap of Amanda’s skin against Noah’s face, her sharp gasps, his muffled, frantic gulps for air whenever she lifted her hips a fraction. Amanda’s thighs trembled, slick with sweat. Her head tilted back, exposing the taut line of her throat. A low, guttural groan tore from her lips, deeper and more primal than before. "Yesss... take it!" she hissed, grinding down in tight, vicious circles. Noah’s body bucked wildly beneath her, a trapped animal fighting for survival. His muffled cries were swallowed by her flesh.
Amanda’s rhythm shattered into frantic, jerking thrusts. Her fingers clenched impossibly tighter in Noah’s hair, pulling his scalp taut. Her other hand clawed at the leather couch back, tearing a small seam. She slammed down hard, pinning Noah’s face completely, her hips convulsing violently against his immobilized features. A choked, ragged scream ripped from her throat – "FUCK!" – followed by a gush of wetness that soaked through the thin lace, flooding Noah’s open mouth and nose. The scent, thick and pungent, filled the air.
Slowly, trembling, Amanda lifted herself. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. Beneath her, Noah lay motionless except for the frantic flutter of his ribs. His face was slick and crimson, eyes glazed, mouth slack and smeared with her release. Amanda wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, then turned her heavy-lidded gaze towards Tori. Her voice, when it came, was hoarse but utterly commanding.
"Your turn, honey," Amanda rasped, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her flushed face. She gestured dismissively at Noah's wrecked form. "If you want it." Her eyes held Tori’s, intense and unblinking. "He’s primed. Helpless. Yours."
Tori’s breath hitched. The heat pooling low in her belly surged into a wildfire. Without hesitation, her fingers hooked into the waistband of her denim shorts. The button popped, the zipper hissed down. She shoved them past her hips, kicking them aside onto the dusty carpet. Her simple black cotton thong hugged her curves, stark against her pale skin. The dampness she felt wasn't just sweat anymore.
She stepped forward, bare feet padding softly. Noah’s glazed eyes tracked her movements, widening slightly as she positioned herself over him, mirroring Amanda’s stance. Her knees sank into the worn couch cushions on either side of his head. The scent of Amanda’s climax still hung thick in the air, mingling with Noah’s panic and her own sharp arousal. She looked down. His face was slick, flushed, mouth slightly open. Utterly conquered. Hers to claim.
She lowered herself slowly. The soft cotton of her thong pressed against Noah’s lips, warm and damp. A choked gasp escaped him. Tori began to move, a tentative rock of her hips. The friction was electric. Noah’s hands twitched violently at his sides. Then, instinctively, they shot downwards towards the agonizing bulge straining against his shorts.
Amanda moved like lightning. "No!" she snapped, her voice sharp as shattered glass. She lunged forward, planting one bare foot firmly on the carpet beside Noah’s thrashing shoulder. Her strong hands clamped like steel manacles around his wrists, yanking them upwards and away from his crotch with brutal force. Noah cried out, a raw sound muffled by Tori’s grinding crotch. Amanda hauled his arms high above his head, pinning them against the couch cushion.
"Hands stay here," Amanda growled, her breath hot against Noah’s ear as she leaned over him. Without releasing his wrists, she swung her other leg over his writhing torso. Her bare thighs bracketed his ribs as she lowered herself heavily onto his stomach, her full weight driving the air from his lungs in a desperate whoosh. Noah arched beneath her, pinned completely – arms trapped above, chest immobilized by her solid weight, face crushed upwards against Tori’s damp cotton thong.
Tori gasped as Amanda’s sudden presence pressed Noah’s face harder against her. The friction intensified, sending a jolt through her core. Amanda’s strong hands slid from Noah’s wrists, instantly finding Tori’s hips. Her fingers dug into the soft flesh above Tori’s waistband, pulling her firmly down against Noah’s immobilized features.
"Grind, honey," Amanda commanded, her voice low and urgent against Tori’s ear. She pushed Tori’s hips forward in a slow, deliberate arc. "Use him. Feel that?" Noah’s muffled groan vibrated through Tori as her cotton-covered mound dragged across his nose and mouth. Amanda guided her backward, then forward again, harder this time. The wet heat building between Tori’s thighs soaked the thin fabric, plastering it against Noah’s skin. His breath hitched, starved and ragged beneath her movements.
Amanda shifted her own hips lower on Noah’s torso, her bare thighs sliding down his ribs. A sharp gasp escaped her as she felt the rigid outline of his erection pressing insistently against her ass cheeks through his damp shorts. "Oh, sweetie," she purred, rolling her hips in a slow, sinuous circle. The thick curve of her ass ground against the straining bulge, eliciting a choked sob from Noah beneath Tori’s relentless rocking. Amanda reached back, her fingers tracing the swollen length tenting the fabric. She pressed firmly, molding his erection between her cheeks, the friction deliberate and cruel. Her thumb found the sensitive underside through the damp material, rubbing in tight, teasing circles. Noah’s hips jerked violently, but Amanda’s weight held him pinned. "Feel him throb?" she rasped to Tori, her own breath catching as she intensified the pressure. "Helpless. Needing."
Tori’s rhythm faltered for a heartbeat, overwhelmed by the raw intimacy unfolding beneath her. Amanda’s hand guided her hips back into motion. "Don’t stop, honey," Amanda commanded, her voice thick with exertion. "Make him earn it." Her fingers dug into Tori’s waist, pulling her down harder against Noah’s immobilized face. Tori obeyed, grinding forward in desperate, urgent arcs. The soaked cotton of her thong dragged across Noah’s lips and nose, smearing her wetness. His muffled gasps vibrated against her, desperate gulps for air whenever she lifted her hips fractionally. Beneath her, Amanda continued her slow, torturous roll of her hips, Noah’s erection trapped and throbbing against her ass. Her thumb pressed harder, rubbing the underside in relentless, maddening strokes.
Tori’s focus narrowed to the heat building low in her belly, the friction igniting sparks with every downward thrust. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the couch backrest above Noah’s pinned arms. Her movements became primal, instinctive. She rode his face with increasing speed, the wet slap of her skin against his echoing Amanda’s earlier sounds. Noah’s muffled cries were swallowed by her grinding crotch. Tori’s breath hitched, sharp gasps escaping her lips. The pressure coiled tighter, unbearable. She felt Amanda’s approving squeeze on her hips, urging her faster, deeper.
Amanda shifted her weight, grinding harder against Noah’s trapped erection. Her thumb pressed relentlessly against the sensitive underside through his shorts. "He’s close," she rasped, her voice thick with exertion. "Can you feel it? That desperate pulse?" Beneath Tori, Noah bucked violently, a trapped animal fighting for breath and release. Amanda held him down effortlessly, her thighs clamping tighter around his ribs. "Don’t stop, honey," she commanded Tori. "Take what’s yours."
Tori obeyed. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the couch backrest, and drove her hips down in hard, demanding strokes. The soaked cotton of her thong dragged roughly across Noah’s lips and nose, smearing her wetness. His muffled cries vibrated against her—choked, ragged gasps whenever she lifted her hips a fraction, instantly silenced as she slammed back down. The friction ignited sparks deep in her core, each grind sending waves of heat radiating outward. She focused on the slick pressure building between her thighs, the desperate rhythm of her own breath, the way Noah’s body trembled beneath her assault. Amanda’s approving groan vibrated through the couch cushions.
"Harder, honey," Amanda urged, her voice thick and strained as she ground her hips against Noah’s trapped erection. Her thumb pressed cruel circles against the swollen underside through his shorts. "Make him feel it." Tori obeyed, throwing her weight into each downward thrust. The wet slap of her skin against Noah’s face echoed Amanda’s earlier sounds, mingling with his strangled whimpers and Amanda’s low, guttural moans. Tori’s vision blurred at the edges. The coil in her belly tightened unbearably, a white-hot wire drawn taut. She gasped, arching her back, her rhythm faltering as sensation overwhelmed her.
Then it snapped. A shudder ripped through her, violent and electric. Her hips bucked wildly against Noah’s immobilized face, grinding down hard, smothering his muffled cry. A raw, ragged gasp tore from her throat as the first wave hit—sharp, blinding pleasure radiating out from her core. She clenched hard, thighs trembling, pressing herself flush against Noah’s mouth and nose, trapping the damp cotton thong against his skin. The scent of her own release flooded the air, sharp and sweet, mingling with Amanda’s musk and Noah’s panic. Wave after wave crashed over her, each one dragging a choked sob from her lips. Her fingers clawed at the leather couch back, knuckles white. Beneath her, Noah’s body jerked in helpless sync with her convulsions.
Slowly, trembling, Tori lifted herself. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. Noah lay still beneath her, face slick and crimson, eyes squeezed shut, mouth slack and smeared with her wetness soaking through the thin cotton. A shudder ran through him. Amanda released her grip on his wrists and slid off his torso, her bare feet hitting the carpet with a soft thud. She stood tall, flushed and powerful, watching Tori with predatory satisfaction.
Without a word, Amanda hooked her thumbs into the sides of her black lace thong. She peeled the damp fabric down her thighs, stepping out of it with deliberate grace. The scent of her release intensified sharply in the confined space. She placed a firm hand on Tori’s trembling shoulder. "See?" Amanda rasped, her voice thick with exertion. "Now you understand."
Tori nodded, her breath still catching. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "The surrender. The... ownership. It’s... powerful." She slid sideways off Noah’s immobilized face, collapsing onto the worn couch cushion beside his head. Her legs felt boneless. Noah gasped, gulping air like a drowning man breaking the surface, his chest heaving beneath Amanda’s lingering scent.
Amanda stepped over him again, her bare feet planted firmly on the dusty carpet. This time, she faced his feet. Noah’s bleary eyes, struggling to focus, widened in stunned disbelief as they tracked upwards—past her powerful thighs, past the dark triangle of curls—to land squarely on the full, rounded swell of her naked ass hovering directly above his face. The intimate view was deliberate, unavoidable.
"Ready?" Amanda’s voice was low, thick with command, as she glanced back over her shoulder. She didn’t wait for an answer. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself backwards. The warm, heavy curve of her ass settled onto Noah’s chest, pinning him once more. Her weight shifted, grinding down until the soft, intimate heat of her cleft pressed firmly against his chin, forcing his head back against the couch cushion. Her scent—musky, potent, mingling with lavender and the lingering aftermath of Tori’s climax—filled his nostrils.
Noah gasped, his eyes wide and panicked. His hands instinctively flew upwards, fingers splayed towards Amanda’s descending hips. "Aunt Amanda—!" The protest choked in his throat.
Amanda’s hand shot out, clamping hard around both his wrists in one powerful grip. She slammed them back against the couch cushion above his head, pinning them with brutal force. Her other hand pressed firmly against his sternum, holding him immobile beneath her settling weight. "You don’t speak," she growled, her voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through his chest. She leaned back further, grinding the soft, slick heat of her cleft against his chin and jawbone. The intimate pressure forced his head deeper into the cushion. Her scent, thick and primal, flooded his senses. "You breathe. You take it." Her hips shifted, a deliberate, grinding circle that smeared her wetness across his stubble. "And tonight, Noah?" She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in as much as the weight of her body. Her gaze locked onto his terrified eyes. "You’re going to cum." Another slow, heavy grind against his jawline. "With your face buried in my ass."
Noah’s muffled gasp was cut short as Amanda shifted her hips backwards with terrifying precision. The warm, heavy swell of her naked ass settled fully onto his face. Her powerful thighs bracketed his head, pressing inwards, trapping him completely. She wiggled deliberately, grinding the soft flesh against his nose and mouth, searching for the perfect angle. Finding it, she settled her full weight down. His frantic struggles were instantly silenced, reduced to faint, choked vibrations against her skin. Amanda sighed, a sound of deep contentment, and tilted her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Her gaze drifted lazily to Tori, who sat frozen a few feet away, eyes wide with shock.
Amanda smiled. It was a slow, triumphant curve of her lips. "See?" she murmured, her voice thick with lazy dominance. "Total surrender." She held Tori’s gaze, watching the younger woman’s disbelief. Then, without warning, Amanda clenched deep inside. Her sphincter tightened visibly for a split second before releasing. A low, resonant BRRRAAAAAPPP ripped through the basement air. Warmth bloomed against Noah’s nose, trapped deep within the intimate crevice of her ass. The humid air rushed out, thick and pungent, carrying the unmistakable sour-sweet tang of digested coffee and rich food from the reunion upstairs. It flooded his nostrils, overwhelming, intimate, degrading.
Noah’s body jerked violently beneath her, a muffled scream vibrating against her skin. His legs kicked wildly against the couch cushions. Instantly, Amanda’s hand shot down. Not to release him, but to clamp hard over the agonizing bulge straining against his damp shorts. Her fingers dug deep, molding around the rigid outline of his cock through the fabric. The sudden, brutal pressure forced a choked gasp from him, instantly stifled by the suffocating seal of her ass. She squeezed firmly, rhythmically, a cruel counterpoint to his frantic struggles. "Shhh, sweetie," she crooned, grinding her hips slowly against his immobilized face. Her fingers traced the swollen length trapped beneath his shorts, tracing the thick vein pulsing along the underside. "Feel that throb? That ache?" Another deliberate grind muffled his desperate whimper. "That’s mine."
Her fingers slid upwards, tracing the sensitive ridge beneath his cockhead through the soaked fabric. "You want release?" Amanda’s voice dropped lower, thick with dominance. She paused her grinding, letting the humid heat trapped against his face intensify. "Then earn it." Her thumb pressed hard against the damp spot at the tip of his shorts, rubbing in slow, torturous circles. Noah’s hips bucked helplessly beneath her weight. "Lick," she commanded, her voice sharp as shattered glass. "Lick my asshole, Noah. Clean it. Worship it." She pressed down harder, grinding her cleft against his sealed lips and nose. "Or you stay like this. Needing. Suffocating. Forever."
A choked, muffled sob vibrated against her skin. Then, slowly, hesitantly, Amanda felt it. The tentative, wet flicker of Noah’s tongue against her tightest ring. It was hesitant, clumsy, trembling with humiliation. She rewarded him instantly, lifting her hips just enough to grant him a shallow gasp of air before settling back down. "Good boy," she breathed, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Now properly." She shifted her weight slightly, opening herself fractionally, guiding his tongue deeper. Noah obeyed. His tongue pressed flat, lapping in desperate, broad strokes against her puckered flesh. The sensation was electric—warm, wet, utterly submissive. His tongue worked frantically, tracing circles, probing shallowly, driven by the promise of relief and the suffocating pressure of her dominance.
Tori watched, transfixed. Amanda’s hand never stopped its cruel rhythm on Noah’s trapped erection. She stroked him firmly through the soaked shorts, her fingers molding the rigid length, her thumb grinding relentless circles against the sensitive tip. Her hips rocked slowly, grinding her ass against Noah’s face, forcing his tongue deeper with each downward motion. "See?" Amanda rasped, turning her head slightly towards Tori. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, triumphant. Sweat beaded on her temple. "This... this is power." She emphasized her point with another grinding thrust backwards, smothering Noah’s frantic licking beneath her weight. "When he licks your asshole," Amanda breathed, her voice thick with exertion, "he’s licking your authority. He’s worshipping your control." Her fingers squeezed Noah’s cockhead brutally through the fabric. "He’s proving he belongs to you."
Noah’s muffled whimper vibrated against Amanda’s skin. His legs thrashed weakly against the couch cushions. "I know you can’t breathe, sweetie," Amanda crooned, her voice a velvet-wrapped blade. She lifted her hips a fraction, just enough to let a desperate gasp escape him before slamming back down. Her cleft sealed instantly over his nose and mouth. "But keep licking." Her stroking hand intensified, moving faster now, a punishing rhythm. "Lick like your pathetic life depends on it." She leaned forward slightly, shifting her weight, grinding the soft, intimate heat of her asshole harder against his probing tongue. "Because it does."
Tori watched, breath caught in her throat. Amanda’s knuckles whitened as she squeezed Noah’s trapped cockhead through the soaked fabric. "This," Amanda hissed, locking eyes with Tori over her shoulder. Sweat slicked her brow. "This is how you demonstrate power." She emphasized each word with a brutal downward grind. "Not just sitting. Owning." Her fingers traced the pulsing vein beneath Noah’s shorts. "Feel him? Every throb screams surrender." Beneath her, Noah’s tongue worked frantically—broad, wet strokes against her puckered flesh. Amanda’s eyelids fluttered. "He’s tasting my dominance. Swallowing it."
Amanda shifted her weight. Her hips rolled backward in a slow, deliberate arc. The intimate heat of her cleft pressed deeper against Noah’s sealed lips. His muffled cry vibrated against her skin. "Harder," she commanded. Her stroking hand became a piston—fast, punishing, relentless. The damp fabric strained against Noah’s erection. "Lick like you mean it, Noah. Like you need it." She lifted her hips a fraction. A desperate gasp escaped him. Then she slammed down, smothering the sound instantly. His tongue surged forward, probing deeper, lapping at her tight ring with frantic urgency. Amanda’s breath hitched. "Yes. Yes."
Beneath her, Noah’s body coiled like a spring. His hips bucked wildly against Amanda’s crushing weight, legs kicking uselessly against the cushions. A muffled roar vibrated against her skin—raw, primal, trapped deep within the suffocating seal of her ass. Amanda felt it before she saw it: the desperate, frantic pulse beneath her stroking hand. Her fingers clenched harder, molding the rigid outline through soaked fabric as Noah’s cock jerked violently against her palm. Warmth flooded the front of his shorts, spreading rapidly, soaking the material dark. The sharp, salty scent of his release mingled with Amanda’s musk and the humid air trapped against his face.
Amanda didn’t relent. She kept grinding down, her cleft smearing wetness across his nose and chin as his hips spasmed beneath her. "That’s it," she purred, her voice thick with triumph. "Give it to me." Her stroking hand slowed but didn’t stop, milking every last shuddering throb from him. Noah’s muffled whimpers dissolved into ragged, shallow breaths against her skin, his body going limp beneath her weight. She felt the frantic flutter of his tongue falter, then still completely. Only the desperate rise and fall of his chest beneath her thighs betrayed his struggle for air.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Amanda’s face. She sighed deeply, a sound of utter contentment. Then, deliberately, she leaned back, shifting her hips. Her powerful thighs pressed inward, trapping Noah’s head completely. With both hands, she reached back, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her ass cheeks. She spread them wide, exposing the dark, puckered ring Noah’s tongue had just worshipped. Without hesitation, she slammed her weight down, forcing the swollen tip of his nose deep into the tight, humid center of her asshole. Noah’s body jerked once, a final, feeble convulsion. A wet, choked gurgle vibrated against her skin.
Tori watched, frozen, as Amanda began to grind. Slow, deliberate circles of her hips mashed Noah’s nose deeper into the intimate crevice. His struggles had ceased entirely. Only the faint, shallow flutter of his ribs beneath her thighs betrayed any sign of life. Amanda tilted her head back, eyes half-closed, a low hum of pleasure rumbling in her chest. She rocked forward slightly, releasing the pressure just enough to expose Noah’s face for a fleeting second. His eyes were rolled back, showing only the whites. His lips were slack, smeared slick with her wetness and saliva. Then Amanda slammed back down, burying him again, her cleft sealing completely over his mouth and nose. She resumed her grinding, the motion possessive, final.
"He’s out," Amanda murmured, her voice thick with exertion and satisfaction. She shifted her weight, pressing Noah’s nose hard against her puckered entrance, massaging it in slow, circular motions. "But that doesn’t mean he stops serving." She glanced over her shoulder at Tori, her gaze predatory. "See how deep he takes it? Even unconscious, his body obeys." She emphasized her point with another heavy grind, her thighs squeezing Noah’s temples. "This is ownership, Tori. Absolute. Unbreakable. His face is my throne."
Tori watched, transfixed, as Amanda continued her relentless assault. Her aunt’s hips rolled in deliberate, possessive circles, grinding Noah’s limp nose deeper into her asshole. The intimate flesh yielded slightly under the pressure, swallowing the bridge of his nose. Amanda sighed, a low, throaty sound of contentment. "Feel this?" she asked, reaching back to spread her cheeks wider with both hands, exposing the tight ring stretched around Noah’s nose. "The heat. The pulse. It’s alive. And he’s buried in it." She rocked forward slightly, allowing Tori a glimpse of Noah’s slack, smeared face—eyes rolled back, lips parted—before slamming back down, sealing him completely beneath her. "His breath belongs to me. His senses are drowned in me. That’s control."
Amanda shifted her weight, settling fully onto his face. Her thighs pressed inward, trapping his temples. "I love this," she murmured, her voice thick with dark reverence. "The power of putting someone to sleep with my ass. Feeling them suffocate beneath me." She emphasized her words with another slow, grinding circle, her hips rolling against Noah’s immobilized skull. His chest barely fluttered beneath her thighs now—shallow, desperate hitches. "Knowing I could end him right here? Just by sitting still?" A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. "It’s incredible. The weight of that choice. The intimacy of it." She pressed down harder, grinding her cleft against his sealed lips. "He’s helpless. Needy. Mine."
Noah’s body convulsed weakly beneath her—a final, instinctive jerk of survival instincts overwhelmed. Amanda felt it ripple through his hips and legs, muffled against her skin. She pressed down harder, grinding her ass deeper into his face, sealing every gasp. "I love this," she breathed, her voice thick with reverence. "The power of putting someone to sleep with my ass. Feeling them suffocate beneath me." Her hips rolled in slow, possessive circles, massaging his limp nose against her puckered entrance. The humid heat trapped between them intensified with each motion. "Knowing I could end him right here? Just by sitting still?" She tilted her head back, savoring the weight crushing Noah’s skull into the leather cushion. "It’s incredible. The intimacy of holding that power."
Tori watched, frozen, as Amanda’s thighs squeezed Noah’s temples tighter. His chest hitched—a shallow, desperate spasm beneath her weight. Amanda didn’t relent. She rocked forward slightly, just enough to expose his slack, wet face for a heartbeat. His eyes were rolled back, lips smeared with her slickness and saliva. Then she slammed back down, burying him completely. "See?" Amanda murmured, locking eyes with Tori. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the couch behind her. "He’s not breathing for himself anymore." She ground her hips in a brutal circle. "He’s breathing through me. If I let him." Beneath her, Noah’s body twitched again, weaker this time. A wet gurgle vibrated against her skin.
Tori’s stomach twisted. "Aunt Amanda—" Her voice cracked. "His lips are blue. Please—" She reached out instinctively, fingers trembling toward Amanda’s hip.
Amanda didn’t turn. Her hips rolled in another slow, deliberate circle, grinding Noah’s limp nose deeper into her asshole. The intimate flesh pulsed visibly around the bridge of his nose. "Blue’s fine," she murmured, her voice thick with lazy dominance. "He’s got minutes left." She sighed, a sound of deep contentment, and shifted her weight, settling more fully onto his face. Noah’s chest hitched beneath her thighs—a shallow, desperate spasm that barely lifted her. "See that?" Amanda tilted her head slightly toward Tori. "That gasp? That’s mine. His body’s begging me for air." Her fingers tightened on Noah’s temples, pressing his skull harder into the leather cushion. "He’s not done serving yet."
Tori stared, horrified, at the faint cyanotic tinge around Noah’s slack lips, barely visible beneath the suffocating seal of Amanda’s ass. His chest hitched in shallow, irregular spasms beneath her aunt’s thighs—a weak flutter against crushing weight. "Aunt Amanda," Tori whispered, voice trembling. "He’s not breathing right. Look at his lips—"
"Shhh." Amanda didn’t turn. Her hips rolled in a slow, possessive circle, grinding Noah’s nose deeper into her puckered entrance. The intimate flesh pulsed visibly around the bridge of his nose. "Blue’s fine," she murmured, her voice thick with lazy dominance. "He’s got minutes left." She sighed, a sound of deep contentment, and shifted her weight, settling more fully onto his face. Noah’s body convulsed weakly beneath her—a final, instinctive jerk muffled against her skin. "See that?" Amanda tilted her head slightly toward Tori. "That gasp? That’s mine. His body’s begging me for air." Her fingers tightened on Noah’s temples, pressing his skull harder into the leather cushion. "He’s not done serving yet."
Amanda leaned back, arching her spine. Her powerful thighs pressed inward, trapping Noah’s head completely as she spread her ass cheeks wider with both hands. The humid heat bloomed stronger, thick with the scent of sweat and musk. She rocked forward slightly, granting Tori a fleeting glimpse of Noah’s slack, cyanotic lips smeared slick with her wetness. Then she slammed back down, sealing him beneath her cleft with a wet smack. His chest hitched—a shallow, desperate spasm beneath her thighs. "Feel that?" Amanda rasped, locking eyes with Tori. Sweat slicked her brow. "Every twitch is worship." She ground her hips in a brutal circle, massaging his limp nose against her asshole. "Even unconscious, he knows who owns him."
Slowly, deliberately, Amanda lifted herself. Her thighs unclamped, releasing Noah’s temples. Her cleft peeled away from his face with a wet, sucking sound, leaving his skin slick and flushed. Noah lay utterly still, his chest barely rising in shallow, ragged gasps. His lips remained parted, smeared with saliva and Amanda’s wetness, the bluish tinge fading slowly to a sickly pallor. His eyes stayed rolled back, whites stark against flushed skin.
Amanda stood, stretching lazily. She plucked her discarded shorts from the floor, stepping into them without hurry. The damp fabric clung to her thighs as she zipped them up. She smoothed her blouse, tucking it in with calm precision. Noah’s choked breaths filled the basement—weak, wet rasps that shuddered through his limp body. Tori stared at him, frozen, her knuckles white where she gripped the armrest of her chair.
Noah’s chest hitched violently. A gurgling cough tore from his throat, spraying flecks of spit onto his chin. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. His skin was clammy, slick with sweat and Amanda’s wetness, the bluish tinge slowly fading to a sickly gray. One hand twitched near his hip, fingers curling weakly against the damp leather cushion. Tori didn’t move. She watched the shallow rise and fall of his ribs, the way his lips trembled with each ragged inhale. The sour-sweet musk of Amanda’s dominance hung thick in the air, mingling with the coppery tang of panic sweat.
Amanda slid off the couch, landing softly on the carpet. She straightened her blouse, tucking it smoothly into her shorts. The damp fabric clung to her thighs as she zipped them up. She didn’t spare Noah a glance. Her movements were unhurried, efficient. She smoothed her hair back from her temples, adjusted her waistband, and stepped into her sandals. The silence stretched, broken only by Noah’s wet, uneven gasps and the distant murmur of voices upstairs. The basement felt suddenly colder, the air stale.
Tori watched Noah’s chest hitch—a shallow, shuddering lift beneath his damp shirt. His lips remained parted, slick with Amanda’s wetness and saliva, the bluish tinge slowly fading to a sickly gray pallor. His eyes stayed rolled back, whites stark against flushed skin. One hand twitched near his hip, fingers curling weakly against the leather cushion. Tori didn’t move. She tracked the faint flutter of his ribs, the way his throat convulsed with each ragged, bubbling inhale. The sour-sweet musk of Amanda’s dominance hung thick in the air, mingling with the sharp, metallic scent of Noah’s panic sweat and the lingering tang of his release.