This choice: Marissa comes back to find you passed out and wakes you • Go Back...Chapter #5Marisa's pleasure by: VW2775   You come to, noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Glancing over you see Marisa taking a drink from a cup on top of a dresser. She looks over. “Welcome back, Patty,” she says, setting the glass down and walking over to loom over you. You stare up her powerful frame; the memory of what she just did to you both arouses and humiliates you.
Before you can do anything, she sits down on your stomach, facing you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them over your head. You struggle, but you can’t budge her a bit. “Marisa,” you say. “Please.”
“No,” she responds. “It’s not right. I won the match, yet where’s my pleasure?” She scootches forward till her crotch is right up against your chin, looping her lower legs under your arms, crushing your biceps between her calves and thighs. Then she presses her thighs together, squashing your face in between. “I suggest you take some deep breaths, Patty. You’re not going to get much chance otherwise for a while.”
“What?” you protest.
“Meh, your problem, not mine.” She lets go of your wrists and slightly loosens her thighs, and then grabs the back of your head to shove your face forward into her crotch. She slams her thighs tight against your ears, the muscles swelling against your skull; they are at least the size of your head. You can feel the warmth of her body through the fabric of her shorts. Your mouth and nose are covered, buried in her, but your eyes are free, looking up the body of your powerful cousin. She leans over a bit so you can see her face looming over her breasts and she smiles evilly.
Then she starts grinding against your face. You tug at her thighs but her hands snatch yours up, Marisa interlacing her fingers with yours, crushing them in her strong grip. You can hear her moan as her grinding increases in tempo, but the sound is muffled, faint, barely able to penetrate the mass of muscle encasing your ears. Her movement gives you a few moments where you can snatch some air through a free nostril, but it’s just enough to slow down hypoxia, not enough to stop it. As you pass out, you still hear Marisa’s moans and feel her crotch ravaging your face.
When you wake up, she is still there, her grip slightly loosened so you can breathe freely, but as soon as you wake, Marisa looks down, smiles, and clamps you tight again. She resumes, her thighs squeezing tighter and tighter as she gets more aroused, her moans becoming louder even through the muscle barrier. You try to bridge, to free your hands, anything, before either she smothers you again or just crushes your skull between her thighs, but she just grinds faster, squeezes harder.
Again darkness. And when you awake, she just resumes, crushing and grinding and smothering. As you slip away this time, you feel her whole body shudder in pleasure, her thighs somehow mashing your skull even harder as you pass out.
You’re not sure how many times Marisa orgasms, or how many times she knocks you out as she uses your face. On the later count, you think five, or six, but that’s a guess.
Eventually though when you come to, your groggy mind can feel that Marisa is not still on you, using you. But as the haze slowly starts to lift, you realize there is someone else in the room with you.
Who is it?
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