couchman
04-13-2010, 1:13 PM
The Librarian – Part Three (most recent)
By
Couchman
His latest experience as a human seat—this time a couch seat—was particularly disturbing for Dennis. He walked back to the tiny rented room he called home while he attended college. He sat as his desk and proceeded to study. It was a vain attempt to absorb information. The words on a page soon blurred and were replaced by the memory of Greta and her daughter Ursula sitting together on his face. Even with a soft couch beneath him to absorb some of their weight, it was still a crushing experience. The combined weight of the two females had forced his head deep into the couch. His head still hurt, and his chest, for it had been sat on as well.
He sighed and began to re-access this bizarre human furniture thing of his. If he were to continue letting them use him as a seat, merely a place to rest their weight upon, he could end up seriously injured. He was completely at their mercy, and each time he tried it, they seemed to have little of that. Obviously Ursula was always willing to sit on him, desiring to sit on him, and even Greta was starting to enjoy so much power over a man as to plop down full weight on his face or chest. He envied the inanimate objects: chairs, couch seats, stools, women sat on. They lacked his fragile human body and could not be injured when sat on. He envied them, but he could never actually… be… one. Then it occurred to him that a seat for women is simply a matter of social designation. Objects like chair and couch seats have been not only constructed for the purpose of sitting on them, they were socially designated to be sat on. Even though he, as a human being who could be crushed and smothered under a woman’s butt, if women like Greta and Ursula designated him to be a place to sit, he was to them, the same as any inanimate object used for that purpose. When he was in their house he was no longer a human being to them. He was a seat. The concept that any man could, in fact, be a seat if women chose to use him as one was both exciting and perplexing. Even women with the most beautifully sculpted body, tight butts, long smooth legs, will gladly sit on anything they have been socially conditioned to believe is there for that purpose. His human furniture role playing seemed to actually be transcending social conditioning in Greta and Ursula’s mind. He might still be a human being, but he was a seat to them.
His thoughts were broken by a phone call. It was Greta. She wanted to make sure he was at their house the next night. She said she was having company over and was anxious to show them her new furniture.
“Are you sure?” asked Dennis. “Are you sure you want other people to know about our arrangement?”
“Positively,” replied Greta, and left him with the silence of a disconnected phone. He recalled the phone conversation Greta had with one of her friends while she tortured his upturned face with her butt and weight. Apparently, the woman she was talking to was named Kelly, and she had a daughter Heather. Was she actually inviting them over to see him… her new furniture, as she put it? The prospect of getting sat on by two new women excited him. But would they do it? Would they sit on him, or would they simply laugh him into embarrassment?
The next night, he was met by both Greta and Ursula at their door. They were both wearing skirts which, again, filled him with expectations.
“Well,” said Greta. “What are you waiting for… you know where the couch is.” She didn’t waste any words. She was acting as if he were a couch cushion that had somehow wondered off and needed to return to its’ lowly position. Ursula grinned at him, an evil, sadistic grin. Ursula, along with her exceptional beauty, made him rather nervous. She cared nothing for him as a person and loved to assert her own self image of superiority over him by mercilessly sitting on him. Her mother Greta seemed also to be getting into using him as a seat, but she lacked the sadistic tendencies of her daughter.
Dennis headed towards the couch and sprawled down upon it. He expected at least one of the women—probably Ursula—to sit on him. But she didn’t, and neither did her mother. They each dominated other chairs with their sexy butts. Greta knew it frustrated him when she sat on something besides him. She grinned at Ursula, and Ursula grinned back. Ursula had a text book in her hands and proceeded to read it. Greta sat on another chair, ignoring his presence on the couch. They both crossed their legs, allowing him a view of smooth thighs that reached almost, but not quite, to the thin material covering their butts. Dennis fantasized projecting his body into some kind of bi-location, turning himself into her chair with Ursula sitting on his face, while, at the same time, lying on the couch. That would teach them not to tease him like that. But that was a feat that only worked in imagination.
Finally, Ursula looked up from her book. “Shall we sit on the couch?” she asked her mom.
“Oh, let’s not,” said Greta. “Let’s wait till our visitors arrive. Then we’ll need more seating space.”
His eyes widened with excitement. The visitors… Kelly and her daughter Heather. Oh, yes… This was going to be an experience. It wasn’t too long before he heard the chimes on the front door. Ursula rushed to the door and let two people in. “Kelly! Heather!” she exclaimed. “Come on in.”
“A woman about Greta’s age, forty or so, entered. Dennis quickly observed that she was wearing a conservative brown dress that matched her hair. A girl followed her inside, a tall girl with a toned, athletic kind of build dressed much less conservative. She wore a black mini-skirt which displayed half of her thighs, and a pink blouse. She had on flip flop sandals. She had brown hair like her mother, tied back in a pony tail. Dennis took a long look at her. She looked familiar. Yes. She was in one of his classes… English Lit. She had sat on his face many times… in fantasy.
The older woman spotted Dennis on the couch. “Oh. You have company”, she said, smiling.
“Never mind him,” said Ursula.
“The older woman looked worried. “Is he sick, Greta?”
“Is he drunk?” said her daughter, and giggled.
“No, no,” said Greta. “He’s just waiting.”
“Waiting?” said the older woman.
“Yeah,” said Ursula. “…waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” asked the older woman.
“Waiting for one someone to go over and sit on him,” blurted Ursula.
“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed the older woman. “Why?...Why would he be waiting for one of us to… to… sit on him?”
“Because, Kelly, this is the new furniture I told you about.”
Heather, her daughter, slapped a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh.
“You’re joking of course,” said Kelly.
“No we’re not,” Ursula assured them. She pranced over to the couch and sat down harshly on his chest. “See?” she said, “He’s here for us to sit on.” She lifted the tanned thigh closest to his head and rested it over the other. “He makes a comfy couch seat.”
Kelly said, “You must be crushing him. Please don’t sit on him like that, Ursula.”
“It’s okay, Kelly,” said Greta. “This is what he wants.” She demonstrated by plopping down on his crotch. Dennis let out a groan from the additional weight atop him.
“Well,” said Heather, the classmate from English Lit. “If he likes getting sat on and squished… I’ll sit on him.” She approached the couch. “Where should I sit?”
Ursula patted his face. “Here,” she said.
“Sit on his face?... Well… Okay,” she said, grinning. It was a fantasy come true for Dennis, who had often wished he could be the chair in class she sat on.
“No!” said Kelly. “You aren’t going to sit on that young man’s face!”
In traditional young womanly style, Heather ignored her mother. She grinned down at Dennis, turned around with knees bent and lowered her butt to his face. Heather sat down squarely on his face with the same absence of modesty as Ursula—allowing her skirt to go over his head. He glimpsed her firm butt, slightly covered with white panty material, descend to his upturned face. She also allowed her entire weight to force his head deep into the couch beneath.
“Heather! Get off his face right now,” said her mother.
“But he’s only a couch seat mom,” said Heather. “That means I can sit on his face, if I want to.” She crossed her legs and exchanged giggles with Ursula, whose fine bottom covered his chest, and Greta mashing his crotch with her own butt, he had to endure the combined weight of three women sitting on his supine frame. The couch beneath him sank so far down he felt like his body was blending into it, becoming part of it.
“You’re smothering him!” Kelly admonished her daughter. “He can’t possibly breathe with you sitting on his poor face.”
“That’s the price he has to pay, Kelly,” Greta told her friend, “for being our furniture.”
“I like sitting on his face,” remarked Heather. “But he is kinda lumpy.” She uncrossed her legs, arose a little above his face, and then sat back down on it.” Greta did the same thing to his crotch, plopping her butt down several times on it. Dennis groaned loudly. “But I think he makes a rather novel piece of furniture, doesn’t he Ursula.”
“Oh, yes,” said Ursula, enthusiastically. “… A man we can sit on whenever we want.”
“And he let’s you do that to him?” asked Kelly, incredulously.
“Oh… He likes it,” said Greta. “At least he thinks he does.”
Dennis felt the panic set in. He was starving for oxygen. But Heather continued to sit on his face, and seemed to have no intention of getting up.” She had nonchalantly crossed her legs again and spoke with Ursula as if he wasn’t even beneath her. “So… What have you been up to, Ursula?”
“Oh the usual,” said Ursula. “Classes, study, some partying, and more study.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Heather. “College is fun, but a lot of work.”
Dennis was able to peer with one eye beneath Heathers’ crossed thighs, the underlining of her black skirt draped over them. She had lovely legs. But his face wedged under her white panty-clad buttocks was hurting. He was amazed that she had jumped right into using him as a seat so easily. She seemed rather quiet in his Lit. Class. He had so envied the chair seat she chose to sit on, and had wished he could turn into it. He had fantasized her sitting on his face many times, but, again, fantasies have no actual weight. The fantasies were thin air and imagination. This was her actual weight and butt mashing his face into the couch. And, again, his body betrayed him with its’ natural need for oxygen. He raised an arm and placed it on her leg.
Heather said, “I think your couch wants me to get up.”
“Yes,” said her mother. “I’m sure he… or it… does.”
“But what if I don’t want to get up?” said Heather, teasing. “What if I just sit on his… or its’ face as long as I want?”
“Oh, you’d just smother him to death,” said Ursula. “Then we’d just have to take him to the dump and get another one.” Ursula and Kelly laughed.
Heather finally got up off his tortured face. She looked down at him and said, “Oh, look… His face is all red.”
“Yeah,” replied Ursula, “like someone just sat on it.”
“Who would do such a thing?” said Heather, coyly. She turned and began to lower her butt to his face—stopping just short of sitting down again. He was gasping for air and hoped that she wouldn’t. Heather was teasing him. She arose to a standing position, only to lower her butt to near his face again, but not connecting. Meanwhile Ursula continued to sit on his chest, which further hampered his breathing. And Greta had her weight concentrated on his crotch. He was getting thoroughly sat on. He, again, gazed upwards at Ursula sitting on his chest. Her legs were crossed and she rested a hand on her thigh, as he’s often observed women do when they sit comfortably on something. And, again, he felt the discrepancy between imagination and reality. Ursula only weighted a hundred fifteen pounds, but with her weight concentrated on his chest it felt like a ton. He gazed at her hips, slender waist, and perky breasts poking at her blouse. And above that, her beautiful face and sparkling blonde hair. It seemed so natural for Ursula to be sitting on him. He loved that feeling of being totally dominated by her, and her mother, her butt and weight mashing his crotch.
Her mother Kelly watched with amazement.
“Sit on him, mom,” urged Heather.
“I most certainly will not,” said Kelly. “Look at him. You’re crushing him!”
“This is what he wanted,” Greta repeated. She got up off his crotch. “Come here, Kelly,” She took Kelly’s arm and led her away. Dennis heard her explaining, “I was at the library. There was a little stool.” Then her voice trailed off as she and Kelly walked out of the room. Dennis was just starting to replenish his lungs with air when Ursula moved over from his chest to his face.
“My turn to sit on your face… dumb couch seat,” she told him. He would have preferred more time to recover from Heather atop his face, but he didn’t’ have that option. Ursula sat down on his face, forcing his head into the couch, and crossed her legs.
“Do you think your mom will sit on him?” she asked Heather.
“Who knows,” said Heather. “I wish she would. I’d love to see that.”
“It’s fun, isn’t it,” said Ursula. “When mom brought him home the first time, I went over and sat right on his face, like this… I can feel his nose and his face under my butt… I love it.”
“Me, too,” Heather agreed. “I often wondered what it would feel like to sit on someone’s face. I remember him from my Lit. Class. I’ll tell you a secret, Ursula.” She whispered, “I even sometimes pretended his face was part of the chair seat when I sat on it.”
“Serious?” said Ursula, giggling. “You wanted to sit on his face?”
“Yep,” said Heather. “But I didn’t think he’d… ever… let me do that to him. I didn’t even know him.”
Dennis was both shocked and amazed at her confession. While he was fantasizing being her chair seat, she was fantasizing actually sitting on his face. If only he had known. If only he could have read her mind. Those are things that girls don’t readily admit to anyone.
“I’ve done that myself,” said Ursula. “I’d see some guy and pretend he was a chair seat and I could sit on his face. Then when mom brought him home and told me he was our new furniture… well… You can imagine my excitement.” They giggled some more while Ursula kept her butt firmly planted atop his face. With Ursula, again, mashing his head into the couch, he suddenly felt additional weight compress his chest. Heather had sat on his chest. He felt her lift her butt off his chest and let it drop to his crotch. She bounced a couple times on his crotch, and then sat back down on his chest.
“I wish I could take him home with me,” said Heather, “and sit on him whenever I wanted.”
“Sorry,” said Ursula. “He’s our couch seat.” Then she added, “I wonder what my mom is telling your mom?” Ursula got up off his face and sneaked up close to the dining room door where the two were talking.
Dennis looked up at Heather, now perched atop his chest, her lovely legs crossed casually. Heather said, “I hope my mom comes back and plops her butt right on his face.”
“Shh!” said Ursula, a finger to her mouth. She listened closely a few moments, then suddenly breathed, “Opps!” She rushed back to the couch, and with a flurry of butt and skirt, sat back down on his face. “They’re coming back,” she whispered.
Between a thin slice of vision he was allowed when Ursula crossed her legs, he saw Greta and Kelly return to the living room.
“So you’re saying,” said Kelly, “that he wanted to be that stool… so you took him home and sat on his face… to teach him a lesson.” He watched as the two bodies approached the couch. “Get up, Ursula,” said Greta. “Kelly wants to sit on him.”
Ursula got up off his face. “Oh, fun!” exclaimed Heather. “Sit on his face, mom.”
Dennis stared up at Kelly as she stood next to the couch where his head was. Like Greta, her body was toned and sexy for her age. She had a splendid ass, accentuated by her tight blue dress.
“If it will teach you a lesson, young man,” she said to Dennis. “I’m going to sit on your face… and I hope I crush you.” This was a moment he loved. Here was a sexy, middle aged woman who had never considered using a man’s face as a seat, preparing to sit down on his face. Kelly turned her back to him. Her knees bent as she smoothed her dress into the crack of her buttocks. Her butt became a round blue orb as she started to lower it to his face. She halted her descent a little above his face and shifted her butt to one side, peering down at him. “I’m going to really sit on you,” she warned. She sighed with exasperation. Then her butt loomed directly above his face. She sat down, gently at first, but then allowed her entire weight to force her butt onto his face.
“There,” she said. “I hope you’re happy being used as a seat.” Dennis loved it. He loved getting sat on by this woman who had so vehemently said she wouldn’t do it.
“Just cross your legs, mom” said Heather. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Well… Okay,” said Kelly. She crossed nylon covered thighs which Dennis could see the underside of. Kelly sat on his face and dangled a foot. “I must be mashing him,” she said with a concerned voice.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Greta. “If we hurt him… well… he asked for it.” He felt added weight on his crotch. Greta had sat on him, and, again, he had three women sitting on him.
“Where should I sit?” said Ursula? “I know… I’ll sit on your lap, Kelly.”
“Oh my goodness!” said Kelly. “That’s too much weight on his poor head.”
Of course Ursula didn’t listen. Dennis felt his head forced deeper into the couch as Ursula sat on Kelly’s lap. He felt Heather get up off his chest. “Now I’ll sit on your lap, Ursula.” She said, giggling. The couch beneath him groaned as Heather added her own weight to the pile of women on his face.
“We’re killing him!” cried Kelly. The two girls laughed. “Yeah… fun, isn’t it,” said Ursula. They tortured his face with their combined weight. Dennis had is face so far rammed into Kelly’s butt he thought he was going to end up in her intestines. And he might have, had she not been wearing a dress. After a half minute of enduring their combined weight on his head and face, they all decided to get up. Dennis felt his head rise up a little as Heather got up, then sprang up a little more as Ursula got off Kelly’s lap. Finally, Kelly removed her butt from his face and lay there, relieved and gulping in air.
Kelly said, “I’ll bet you won’t want to be used as a seat after that.”
“Oh, he will,” said Greta. “He hasn’t had enough yet. So… We’re going to sit on him until he does.”
Ursula and Heather were whispering something to each other.
Ursula, grinning, said, “Mom… Can Heather and I take him upstairs to my room?”
“What are you going to do with him up there?” asked Kelly.
“Sit on him. What else?” Heather answered.
to be continued…
By
Couchman
His latest experience as a human seat—this time a couch seat—was particularly disturbing for Dennis. He walked back to the tiny rented room he called home while he attended college. He sat as his desk and proceeded to study. It was a vain attempt to absorb information. The words on a page soon blurred and were replaced by the memory of Greta and her daughter Ursula sitting together on his face. Even with a soft couch beneath him to absorb some of their weight, it was still a crushing experience. The combined weight of the two females had forced his head deep into the couch. His head still hurt, and his chest, for it had been sat on as well.
He sighed and began to re-access this bizarre human furniture thing of his. If he were to continue letting them use him as a seat, merely a place to rest their weight upon, he could end up seriously injured. He was completely at their mercy, and each time he tried it, they seemed to have little of that. Obviously Ursula was always willing to sit on him, desiring to sit on him, and even Greta was starting to enjoy so much power over a man as to plop down full weight on his face or chest. He envied the inanimate objects: chairs, couch seats, stools, women sat on. They lacked his fragile human body and could not be injured when sat on. He envied them, but he could never actually… be… one. Then it occurred to him that a seat for women is simply a matter of social designation. Objects like chair and couch seats have been not only constructed for the purpose of sitting on them, they were socially designated to be sat on. Even though he, as a human being who could be crushed and smothered under a woman’s butt, if women like Greta and Ursula designated him to be a place to sit, he was to them, the same as any inanimate object used for that purpose. When he was in their house he was no longer a human being to them. He was a seat. The concept that any man could, in fact, be a seat if women chose to use him as one was both exciting and perplexing. Even women with the most beautifully sculpted body, tight butts, long smooth legs, will gladly sit on anything they have been socially conditioned to believe is there for that purpose. His human furniture role playing seemed to actually be transcending social conditioning in Greta and Ursula’s mind. He might still be a human being, but he was a seat to them.
His thoughts were broken by a phone call. It was Greta. She wanted to make sure he was at their house the next night. She said she was having company over and was anxious to show them her new furniture.
“Are you sure?” asked Dennis. “Are you sure you want other people to know about our arrangement?”
“Positively,” replied Greta, and left him with the silence of a disconnected phone. He recalled the phone conversation Greta had with one of her friends while she tortured his upturned face with her butt and weight. Apparently, the woman she was talking to was named Kelly, and she had a daughter Heather. Was she actually inviting them over to see him… her new furniture, as she put it? The prospect of getting sat on by two new women excited him. But would they do it? Would they sit on him, or would they simply laugh him into embarrassment?
The next night, he was met by both Greta and Ursula at their door. They were both wearing skirts which, again, filled him with expectations.
“Well,” said Greta. “What are you waiting for… you know where the couch is.” She didn’t waste any words. She was acting as if he were a couch cushion that had somehow wondered off and needed to return to its’ lowly position. Ursula grinned at him, an evil, sadistic grin. Ursula, along with her exceptional beauty, made him rather nervous. She cared nothing for him as a person and loved to assert her own self image of superiority over him by mercilessly sitting on him. Her mother Greta seemed also to be getting into using him as a seat, but she lacked the sadistic tendencies of her daughter.
Dennis headed towards the couch and sprawled down upon it. He expected at least one of the women—probably Ursula—to sit on him. But she didn’t, and neither did her mother. They each dominated other chairs with their sexy butts. Greta knew it frustrated him when she sat on something besides him. She grinned at Ursula, and Ursula grinned back. Ursula had a text book in her hands and proceeded to read it. Greta sat on another chair, ignoring his presence on the couch. They both crossed their legs, allowing him a view of smooth thighs that reached almost, but not quite, to the thin material covering their butts. Dennis fantasized projecting his body into some kind of bi-location, turning himself into her chair with Ursula sitting on his face, while, at the same time, lying on the couch. That would teach them not to tease him like that. But that was a feat that only worked in imagination.
Finally, Ursula looked up from her book. “Shall we sit on the couch?” she asked her mom.
“Oh, let’s not,” said Greta. “Let’s wait till our visitors arrive. Then we’ll need more seating space.”
His eyes widened with excitement. The visitors… Kelly and her daughter Heather. Oh, yes… This was going to be an experience. It wasn’t too long before he heard the chimes on the front door. Ursula rushed to the door and let two people in. “Kelly! Heather!” she exclaimed. “Come on in.”
“A woman about Greta’s age, forty or so, entered. Dennis quickly observed that she was wearing a conservative brown dress that matched her hair. A girl followed her inside, a tall girl with a toned, athletic kind of build dressed much less conservative. She wore a black mini-skirt which displayed half of her thighs, and a pink blouse. She had on flip flop sandals. She had brown hair like her mother, tied back in a pony tail. Dennis took a long look at her. She looked familiar. Yes. She was in one of his classes… English Lit. She had sat on his face many times… in fantasy.
The older woman spotted Dennis on the couch. “Oh. You have company”, she said, smiling.
“Never mind him,” said Ursula.
“The older woman looked worried. “Is he sick, Greta?”
“Is he drunk?” said her daughter, and giggled.
“No, no,” said Greta. “He’s just waiting.”
“Waiting?” said the older woman.
“Yeah,” said Ursula. “…waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” asked the older woman.
“Waiting for one someone to go over and sit on him,” blurted Ursula.
“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed the older woman. “Why?...Why would he be waiting for one of us to… to… sit on him?”
“Because, Kelly, this is the new furniture I told you about.”
Heather, her daughter, slapped a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh.
“You’re joking of course,” said Kelly.
“No we’re not,” Ursula assured them. She pranced over to the couch and sat down harshly on his chest. “See?” she said, “He’s here for us to sit on.” She lifted the tanned thigh closest to his head and rested it over the other. “He makes a comfy couch seat.”
Kelly said, “You must be crushing him. Please don’t sit on him like that, Ursula.”
“It’s okay, Kelly,” said Greta. “This is what he wants.” She demonstrated by plopping down on his crotch. Dennis let out a groan from the additional weight atop him.
“Well,” said Heather, the classmate from English Lit. “If he likes getting sat on and squished… I’ll sit on him.” She approached the couch. “Where should I sit?”
Ursula patted his face. “Here,” she said.
“Sit on his face?... Well… Okay,” she said, grinning. It was a fantasy come true for Dennis, who had often wished he could be the chair in class she sat on.
“No!” said Kelly. “You aren’t going to sit on that young man’s face!”
In traditional young womanly style, Heather ignored her mother. She grinned down at Dennis, turned around with knees bent and lowered her butt to his face. Heather sat down squarely on his face with the same absence of modesty as Ursula—allowing her skirt to go over his head. He glimpsed her firm butt, slightly covered with white panty material, descend to his upturned face. She also allowed her entire weight to force his head deep into the couch beneath.
“Heather! Get off his face right now,” said her mother.
“But he’s only a couch seat mom,” said Heather. “That means I can sit on his face, if I want to.” She crossed her legs and exchanged giggles with Ursula, whose fine bottom covered his chest, and Greta mashing his crotch with her own butt, he had to endure the combined weight of three women sitting on his supine frame. The couch beneath him sank so far down he felt like his body was blending into it, becoming part of it.
“You’re smothering him!” Kelly admonished her daughter. “He can’t possibly breathe with you sitting on his poor face.”
“That’s the price he has to pay, Kelly,” Greta told her friend, “for being our furniture.”
“I like sitting on his face,” remarked Heather. “But he is kinda lumpy.” She uncrossed her legs, arose a little above his face, and then sat back down on it.” Greta did the same thing to his crotch, plopping her butt down several times on it. Dennis groaned loudly. “But I think he makes a rather novel piece of furniture, doesn’t he Ursula.”
“Oh, yes,” said Ursula, enthusiastically. “… A man we can sit on whenever we want.”
“And he let’s you do that to him?” asked Kelly, incredulously.
“Oh… He likes it,” said Greta. “At least he thinks he does.”
Dennis felt the panic set in. He was starving for oxygen. But Heather continued to sit on his face, and seemed to have no intention of getting up.” She had nonchalantly crossed her legs again and spoke with Ursula as if he wasn’t even beneath her. “So… What have you been up to, Ursula?”
“Oh the usual,” said Ursula. “Classes, study, some partying, and more study.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Heather. “College is fun, but a lot of work.”
Dennis was able to peer with one eye beneath Heathers’ crossed thighs, the underlining of her black skirt draped over them. She had lovely legs. But his face wedged under her white panty-clad buttocks was hurting. He was amazed that she had jumped right into using him as a seat so easily. She seemed rather quiet in his Lit. Class. He had so envied the chair seat she chose to sit on, and had wished he could turn into it. He had fantasized her sitting on his face many times, but, again, fantasies have no actual weight. The fantasies were thin air and imagination. This was her actual weight and butt mashing his face into the couch. And, again, his body betrayed him with its’ natural need for oxygen. He raised an arm and placed it on her leg.
Heather said, “I think your couch wants me to get up.”
“Yes,” said her mother. “I’m sure he… or it… does.”
“But what if I don’t want to get up?” said Heather, teasing. “What if I just sit on his… or its’ face as long as I want?”
“Oh, you’d just smother him to death,” said Ursula. “Then we’d just have to take him to the dump and get another one.” Ursula and Kelly laughed.
Heather finally got up off his tortured face. She looked down at him and said, “Oh, look… His face is all red.”
“Yeah,” replied Ursula, “like someone just sat on it.”
“Who would do such a thing?” said Heather, coyly. She turned and began to lower her butt to his face—stopping just short of sitting down again. He was gasping for air and hoped that she wouldn’t. Heather was teasing him. She arose to a standing position, only to lower her butt to near his face again, but not connecting. Meanwhile Ursula continued to sit on his chest, which further hampered his breathing. And Greta had her weight concentrated on his crotch. He was getting thoroughly sat on. He, again, gazed upwards at Ursula sitting on his chest. Her legs were crossed and she rested a hand on her thigh, as he’s often observed women do when they sit comfortably on something. And, again, he felt the discrepancy between imagination and reality. Ursula only weighted a hundred fifteen pounds, but with her weight concentrated on his chest it felt like a ton. He gazed at her hips, slender waist, and perky breasts poking at her blouse. And above that, her beautiful face and sparkling blonde hair. It seemed so natural for Ursula to be sitting on him. He loved that feeling of being totally dominated by her, and her mother, her butt and weight mashing his crotch.
Her mother Kelly watched with amazement.
“Sit on him, mom,” urged Heather.
“I most certainly will not,” said Kelly. “Look at him. You’re crushing him!”
“This is what he wanted,” Greta repeated. She got up off his crotch. “Come here, Kelly,” She took Kelly’s arm and led her away. Dennis heard her explaining, “I was at the library. There was a little stool.” Then her voice trailed off as she and Kelly walked out of the room. Dennis was just starting to replenish his lungs with air when Ursula moved over from his chest to his face.
“My turn to sit on your face… dumb couch seat,” she told him. He would have preferred more time to recover from Heather atop his face, but he didn’t’ have that option. Ursula sat down on his face, forcing his head into the couch, and crossed her legs.
“Do you think your mom will sit on him?” she asked Heather.
“Who knows,” said Heather. “I wish she would. I’d love to see that.”
“It’s fun, isn’t it,” said Ursula. “When mom brought him home the first time, I went over and sat right on his face, like this… I can feel his nose and his face under my butt… I love it.”
“Me, too,” Heather agreed. “I often wondered what it would feel like to sit on someone’s face. I remember him from my Lit. Class. I’ll tell you a secret, Ursula.” She whispered, “I even sometimes pretended his face was part of the chair seat when I sat on it.”
“Serious?” said Ursula, giggling. “You wanted to sit on his face?”
“Yep,” said Heather. “But I didn’t think he’d… ever… let me do that to him. I didn’t even know him.”
Dennis was both shocked and amazed at her confession. While he was fantasizing being her chair seat, she was fantasizing actually sitting on his face. If only he had known. If only he could have read her mind. Those are things that girls don’t readily admit to anyone.
“I’ve done that myself,” said Ursula. “I’d see some guy and pretend he was a chair seat and I could sit on his face. Then when mom brought him home and told me he was our new furniture… well… You can imagine my excitement.” They giggled some more while Ursula kept her butt firmly planted atop his face. With Ursula, again, mashing his head into the couch, he suddenly felt additional weight compress his chest. Heather had sat on his chest. He felt her lift her butt off his chest and let it drop to his crotch. She bounced a couple times on his crotch, and then sat back down on his chest.
“I wish I could take him home with me,” said Heather, “and sit on him whenever I wanted.”
“Sorry,” said Ursula. “He’s our couch seat.” Then she added, “I wonder what my mom is telling your mom?” Ursula got up off his face and sneaked up close to the dining room door where the two were talking.
Dennis looked up at Heather, now perched atop his chest, her lovely legs crossed casually. Heather said, “I hope my mom comes back and plops her butt right on his face.”
“Shh!” said Ursula, a finger to her mouth. She listened closely a few moments, then suddenly breathed, “Opps!” She rushed back to the couch, and with a flurry of butt and skirt, sat back down on his face. “They’re coming back,” she whispered.
Between a thin slice of vision he was allowed when Ursula crossed her legs, he saw Greta and Kelly return to the living room.
“So you’re saying,” said Kelly, “that he wanted to be that stool… so you took him home and sat on his face… to teach him a lesson.” He watched as the two bodies approached the couch. “Get up, Ursula,” said Greta. “Kelly wants to sit on him.”
Ursula got up off his face. “Oh, fun!” exclaimed Heather. “Sit on his face, mom.”
Dennis stared up at Kelly as she stood next to the couch where his head was. Like Greta, her body was toned and sexy for her age. She had a splendid ass, accentuated by her tight blue dress.
“If it will teach you a lesson, young man,” she said to Dennis. “I’m going to sit on your face… and I hope I crush you.” This was a moment he loved. Here was a sexy, middle aged woman who had never considered using a man’s face as a seat, preparing to sit down on his face. Kelly turned her back to him. Her knees bent as she smoothed her dress into the crack of her buttocks. Her butt became a round blue orb as she started to lower it to his face. She halted her descent a little above his face and shifted her butt to one side, peering down at him. “I’m going to really sit on you,” she warned. She sighed with exasperation. Then her butt loomed directly above his face. She sat down, gently at first, but then allowed her entire weight to force her butt onto his face.
“There,” she said. “I hope you’re happy being used as a seat.” Dennis loved it. He loved getting sat on by this woman who had so vehemently said she wouldn’t do it.
“Just cross your legs, mom” said Heather. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Well… Okay,” said Kelly. She crossed nylon covered thighs which Dennis could see the underside of. Kelly sat on his face and dangled a foot. “I must be mashing him,” she said with a concerned voice.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Greta. “If we hurt him… well… he asked for it.” He felt added weight on his crotch. Greta had sat on him, and, again, he had three women sitting on him.
“Where should I sit?” said Ursula? “I know… I’ll sit on your lap, Kelly.”
“Oh my goodness!” said Kelly. “That’s too much weight on his poor head.”
Of course Ursula didn’t listen. Dennis felt his head forced deeper into the couch as Ursula sat on Kelly’s lap. He felt Heather get up off his chest. “Now I’ll sit on your lap, Ursula.” She said, giggling. The couch beneath him groaned as Heather added her own weight to the pile of women on his face.
“We’re killing him!” cried Kelly. The two girls laughed. “Yeah… fun, isn’t it,” said Ursula. They tortured his face with their combined weight. Dennis had is face so far rammed into Kelly’s butt he thought he was going to end up in her intestines. And he might have, had she not been wearing a dress. After a half minute of enduring their combined weight on his head and face, they all decided to get up. Dennis felt his head rise up a little as Heather got up, then sprang up a little more as Ursula got off Kelly’s lap. Finally, Kelly removed her butt from his face and lay there, relieved and gulping in air.
Kelly said, “I’ll bet you won’t want to be used as a seat after that.”
“Oh, he will,” said Greta. “He hasn’t had enough yet. So… We’re going to sit on him until he does.”
Ursula and Heather were whispering something to each other.
Ursula, grinning, said, “Mom… Can Heather and I take him upstairs to my room?”
“What are you going to do with him up there?” asked Kelly.
“Sit on him. What else?” Heather answered.
to be continued…