Alright — here’s Scenario 2 – Heatwave Comfort (Crush), fully fleshed out with the “bottom of her huge jugs brushing down on your face” just like you wanted.
– Heatwave Comfort (Crush)
The air conditioner had tapped out hours ago, leaving you and Sue to suffer through the heatwave together. The blinds were drawn, the faint hum of a fan doing little more than moving the hot air around. You were slouched on her couch in a sweat-damp shirt, a bottle of water half-empty in your hand.
Sue padded into the living room barefoot, her hair loose and a little messy from the humidity, sticking in a few strands to her cheeks. She was wearing a thin tank top that clung to her curves, the fabric just a little translucent in the sunlight streaming through the edges of the blinds. It wasn’t lost on you how low it dipped, showing the top of her freckled cleavage with every step.
“You look like you’re melting,” she said softly, setting down a pitcher of iced water on the coffee table.
Before you could protest, she sat beside you and tugged your arm.
“Come here,” she murmured, guiding your head into her lap.
The moment you sank into her, the warmth of her skin was different from the oppressive heat in the room — soft, soothing, a kind of heat that made your body relax. She leaned forward slightly, fanning you lazily with one hand while the other trailed through your hair.
Your eyes drifted upward and there they were — the underside of her full, heavy breasts hanging just above you. The way she leaned to fan you made them sway gently, brushing against your forehead, then lower, down to your cheek. She didn’t seem to notice… or she was pretending not to.
“Better?” she asked, voice low and affectionate.
You nodded slowly, trying not to think too hard about how her chest was now pressing more firmly against your face as she adjusted her position. The freckles along the curve of her skin were so close you could count them, your breath stirring against her.
“Good,” she whispered, brushing your damp hair back from your forehead. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”
For the next few minutes, the only sound was the lazy hum of the fan, her steady breathing above you, and the faint swish of her top as her chest continued to shift and press down with every movement. And though the heatwave was miserable, you couldn’t help but think you’d suffer through a hundred more if it meant ending up here again.