4. Full-Weight Fog

No more words. No more warnings. Rebecca just sits. Sweaty. Smug. Silent. Breathe her in.

Sunday, Afternoon

There wasn’t even a setup this time.
You were lying on the floor, scrolling your phone, doing nothing in particular. Rebecca walked in from the hallway - already in those worn, dark grey leggings - and didn’t say a word.
She didn’t need to.
She just stepped over you.
Turned.
Sat.
No warning.
Her full weight landed right across your face - cheeks warm, soft, and sticky from the day. You weren’t even ready. Your phone dropped to the floor beside you.
She settled in slowly, pressing her hips downward until your nose fit perfectly between the swell of her cheeks. A humid seal.
You felt the heat before the scent.
Then the salt, the musk, the tang of effort soaked into cotton.
She was riper this time.
It was heavier. Wetter. The back of her leggings were damp.
She exhaled lazily and leaned forward to grab the remote.
Still sitting.
Still silent.
Your breathing was shallow now - short puffs drawn through the humid barrier that sealed you in her scent. Your chest rose and fell faster. Your hands stayed planted at your sides.
She glanced down.
“You good?”
You nodded - as best you could.
She smiled. Barely.
Then without shifting her hips - without moving at all -
pfft.
It came through sharp and close.
Right to the sinuses.
You flinched again. Not in fear - but like your whole body registered it. A quick gasp through her fabric. You swore your toes curled.
She didn’t even look down this time.
Just let out a little snort of a laugh and adjusted her weight again - pushing her cheeks tighter around your face, dragging the scent back across your lips and nose like a finishing wipe.
“Cute,” she said softly.
She stayed a few more minutes. Not scrolling. Not talking.
Just letting you soak in it.
Then she got up and walked away - without even a backward glance.