Verkauft in Afrika

The Human Couch 

Tom was a twenty-year-old office worker. Since he was a 

Child, Tom had fantasies of women sitting on his face. He was, have 

Course, a human being. But he envied the inanimate objects, like 

Chairs and couches upon which women made themselves comfortable. Tom 

Hoped that when he died he would get reincarnated into a piece of 

Furniture that women would readily sit on. If women perceived him as 

Not even human, thought, Tom, if he were only a chair to them, they 

Would plop their butts down on him without even thinking about it. 

If he were a chair instead of a human being, thought Tom, his sole 

Function in life would be to be sat on.

Each morning at the office, Tom anxiously waited for Heather to 

Arrive. Heather was a secretary where he worked. Her desk was 

Positioned directly in front of his. Heather was a tall blonde with 

The most beautiful ass he'd ever seen. She looked of German descent, 

With glowing golden skin and long legs that reached up to that 

Perfect ass. Tom usually arrived at the office early so he could 

Watch Heather come in; walk over to the fortunate leather chair by 

Her desk, and plop her butt down on it. Oh, how he wished he could 

Be that chair. In particular, he wished his face were the seat of 

Her chair. He imagined himself looking straight up, a part of her 

Chair, as she arrived at work. She would say a cheerful hello to 

Everyone, she would come over to her chair, his face, and probably 

Stand over it while she chatted with her co-workers. Meanwhile, Tom 

Would be gazing under her skirt, up the length of her tanned thighs 

To her panty covered butt. He would know that at any moment, she 

Would decide to sit down, she would bend her legs and her generous 

Ass would descend to his face. If he were Heather's chair, Tom 

Imagined, he would be spending hours under her ass. But as much as 

He fanaticised women using him as something to sit on, he doubted if 

It would ever happen in real life. 

One night after work, Tom went to the public library to try to 

Find some information on sado-masochism, in particular, facesitting. 

There were some books in the sociology section, books like the 

Kinsey research studies, that interested him. He knew that there 

Were women out there somewhere that loved to dominate men? He knew 

That there were women who loved to sit on men's faces and smother 

Them, but he didn't know any personally. Of course there were plenty 

Of prostitutes who would do it for money. But Tom was anxious to 

Find women who wanted to sit on a man's face because they loved to 

Do it. Most women are impassioned with pussy licking, however that 

Wasn’t Tom's passion? What he desired most was to be crushed under 

The ass crack of women. He often thought of himself as a "butt 

Purist." 

It wasn't long before closing time, and there weren't many visitors 

At the library. Tom was squatting down, leafing through a book from 

the lowest shelf, when he heard footsteps. The footsteps were the 

click clack of a woman's heels. He remained squatting down, but 

glanced up as a shapely woman dressed in a rather tight tan skirt 

stood in front of him. She had shoulder length blonde hair, and she 

stood in a way that gave Tom a great view of her fabulous ass. She 

scanned the top shelf for a book she was looking for, then her head 

and torso slowly bent forward as she searched the lower shelves. Tom 

continued to leaf through his book, trying to appear inconspicuous, 

but excitement tingled his groin. The woman was bent over so far her 

big, round butt was less than a foot from his face. She had an 

awesome ass. Tom couldn't keep from staring at it. Then, much to his 

pleasant surprise, the woman backed up and her butt connected with 

Tom's upturned face. 

"Oh… Excuse me," said the woman, realising her butt had just 

touched a human face. 

"No problem," said Tom, politely. No problem was right! What an 

experience. For a brief moment the woman had stuck her ass right in 

his face. She pulled a book out from the lowest shelf and stood up 

reading it. She turned a few pages of her book and then looked down 

at Tom, who kept glancing up at her. The woman looked to be about 

fifty. She had a classy look about her. She had a lovely face, her 

hair was done up nicely and her body was toned. Tom guessed she was 

maybe 6'7" tall, though she looked much taller from his low vantage 

point. The woman sighed. "I'm tired," she finally said to Tom. "I 

told my daughter I'd pick up some books she's doing for a school 

paper." She glanced around the rows of books. "I wish there was 

something to sit on around here." Tom could only shrug. He wished he 

could be a chair for her. But then she said something that sent a 

wave of excitement through his groin. 

"Too bad you aren't a chair," she said to him, chuckling. "I 

could sit on you." 

"You can sit on me," Tom muttered. 

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," said Tom. 

"Oh, I thought you said I could sit on you," she said, coyly. She 

knelt down next to Tom and gazed at him a moment. Then she glanced 

at the book in his shaky hands. "Is that the Kinsey study?" she 

asked. 

"Uh-huh," Tom muttered. 

"I've read it…" she replied. "…Ground breaking research on human 

sexuality done back in the fifties…" The way she spoke openly about 

sex intrigued Tom. "What are you into?" she added, non-chalantly. 

"Um…Sado - machochism, I guess," said Tom. 

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Submissive, right?" 

A chair is about as submissive as you can get, thought Tom. "Yes, I 

guess so," he replied. 

"I knew it," she said. "I can usually tell… Interesting… Are you 

into facesitting?" 

Tom cleared his throat. "Yep." He croaked. 

"How convenient," said the woman. "Maybe I can use you for a 

chair." 

It was like a dream come true. He'd just met a beautiful woman, a 

complete stranger, expressing a desire to sit on him. 

"You can if you want," said Tom. 

"Good," said the woman. "Lay down on your back, Mr. Chair, and 

I'll sit on you." 

"Here?" said Tom. "In the library?" 

"Why not?" said the woman. "You're only a chair, and I need 

something to sit on." 

Tom lay down on his back and the woman stood over him. He gazed 

under her skirt, up the length of her thighs to where her nylons 

were attached by straps to black panties. 

"Think you could handle it if I sat on your face?" she asked. 

"I can handle it," said Tom. "Like you say: I'm only a chair." 

The woman put her legs together and started to sit down. Tom 

watched as her butt descended to his face. The fabric of her skirt 

clung to her ass. She placed one butt cheek on his face, as if 

testing out her "chair." Tom couldn't believe what was happening. 

She raised up a few inches, and Tom got a whiff of her womanliness. 

Then she swivelled her hips slightly and placed her butt squarely on 

his face. She settled her full weight on him. He couldn't see what 

she was doing, but he could hear pages turning. The woman was 

actually looking through her book while sitting on his face! 

"It's nice having you here to sit on," said the woman. She was 

being so casual about smothering his face in a public library, Tom 

thought he was dreaming. He was being crushed under her butt, his 

chest heaved for air, and the woman seemed unconcerned, as if her 

comfort was the only thing that mattered. Tom felt drowsy. He 

thought he was going to pass out, when he heard more foot steps. 

Someone was coming. She removed her ass from his face. Tom gasped in 

air and managed to get up from the floor just as another woman 

entered the aisle. The woman looked at Tom's red face and grinned. 

Then she proceeded on to another aisle. 

"I'm Jody," said the woman who had just smothered his face. 

"Tom," he replied. 

"The woman jotted something down on a slip of paper. "Come to my 

place tomorrow night," she ordered. "I want to sit on you some more."

Tom's next day at work was a tough one. He could barely 

concentrate on work, thinking about what the woman had in store for 

him that evening. He arrived at her house with excited anticipation, 

as well as some anxiety. What if she really hurt him, sitting on him 

like she had at the library? She had all the outward appearance of 

an upper-middle-class woman, but the casual attitude she had towards 

using him as a human chair was disquieting. He expected her to be 

dressed in stiletto heels and leather bikini. He expected to be led 

into some kind of dungeon in the basement. He was surprised to see 

her dressed similar to last night. When she answered the door, she 

was wearing a simple pink pleated skirt that came to a few inches 

above her knees and a white blouse. She had on high heel sandals 

that displayed her shapely calves. 

"Come in, Tom" she said cheerfully. "Glad you could make it." She 

was carrying a uniform of some kind. She unfolded it. "Put this on," 

she told him, with her usual casual voice. The uniform turned out to 

be a jump-suit of sorts. It was gold with black tiger strips. Tom did 

as he was told. It was a loose fitting garb and rather comfortable. 

"Over here," she said, pointing to a couch. "I'm re-upholstering 

my couch. You should work nicely for that purpose." 

Tom stared at the couch in disbelief. The couch was upholstered 

with the same gold and black design he was wearing. It was a rather 

low couch. He lay down on it and his face was several inches below 

her knees as she stood over him. The uniform exactly matched the 

design of the couch and made him feel like he was a part of the 

couch he was laying on. 

"Yes," she said, and smiled. "You're going to make a lovely couch 

cushion." She turned her back to him, lifted her skirt and twirled 

it over his face. Then she sat full on his upturned face. Tom's 

face was completely engulfed in her white pantied butt. His nose 

was mashed into the thin satin panty that was the only thing between 

him and her ass crack. She settled her full weight on her 

tortured "couch cushion" and crossed her legs. She was, quite 

literally, using his face for a butt cushion. She sat like that for 

about half a minute and then shifted her ass backwards so that one 

leg, the leg that was crossed over the other, squished onto his nose 

and mouth. He was able to peek out with one eye at her tanned thigh. 

Her legs swayed a little from side to side, as he had seen women do 

so many times when they sat on something. Then she shifted her ass 

to his chest, positioned her skirt so she could look down at him, 

and he could look up. Her hip was pressed against his chin. Her 

tight stomach gently rose in and out. Higher up, her breasts pushed 

at her blouse, and above them was the underside of her chin and 

face. Tom felt totally dominated. The twin globes of her ass pressed 

heavily onto his chest and stomach. She had moved off of his face, 

temporarily, but he was still having trouble breathing under her 

weight. Tom was surprised that the woman, who couldn't have weighed 

over 185 lbs., felt so heavy on his chest. 

"Am I heavy?" she asked. Her words were flat, as if the question 

was irrelevant. 

"Uh-huh," Tom gasped. 

"Get use to it, Mr. Chair," she said. "You're going to be a part 

of my couch. You're here to be sat on." She looked away from him 

and teased at her hair. "I wonder where Michelle is?" she said, as 

if talking to herself. Finally, she got up and relieved Tom of his 

burden. Maybe this "human chair" idea wasn't so good, after all, he 

thought. Then he remembered she had mentioned having a daughter. 

"Michelle?" he said. 

"Michelle, my daughter," she said. " She's eighteen, a senior in 

high school…She should be home soon." She walked away from him, but 

returned shortly holding a hair brush. 

"Is Michelle going to sit on me, too?" Tom asked. 

"Michelle can sit on you if she wants to," said Jody. "That's 

what you're here for, isn't it? That's your function, isn't it…to be 

sat on?" 

"Uh-huh," said Tom, now even more excited about the prospect of 

an eighteen year old high school girl sitting on him. He wondered if 

Michelle would torture his face with her young butt as casually as 

she did. 

Jody stood over him, brushing her hair. "You're going to be sat 

on a lot before we're though with you," she said. Then she turned 

around again and sat on his face. The couch beneath him groaned as 

she settled her ass on him. His dream of being used as something to 

sit on was coming true. He heard a noise at the door. Someone had 

come in. 

"Michelle," he heard Jody say. "You're late, as usual." 

"Sorry, mom," said a youthful female voice. 

Jody stood up. Tom looked up. There was a beautiful young girl 

staring down at him. 

"Oh, cool…" she said. "The new chair-slave." 

The new chair slave, thought Tom. What happened to the old chair 

slave? Tom saw that her daughter, Michelle, resembled her mother in 

many ways. She must be attending a private school, because she was 

dressed in a pleated blue school uniform skirt. It was a rather 

short skirt, reaching up about six inches above her tanned knees. 

That must be a liberal school she goes to, thought Tom. 

"I went over to Lisa's house after school," she told her mother. 

"You should have called," said Jody. "You know I worry." 

"Sorry, mom," said Michelle. Tom expected her to comment more on 

his unusual presence in the house. But Michelle was acting like it 

was common place to have a man on their couch dressed the same as 

the couch. She came closer to where he lay and turned around, still 

talking to her mother. "I promise, mom," she said. "I'll call you 

from now on." Tom saw her place a delicate hand about the hem of her 

short skirt. She lifted it up slightly, exposing smooth thighs. 

Then, as if he were not even their, she gave her skirt a backward 

flip over Tom's face and sat down hard. He got a glimpse of her 

white panty covered butt before if mashed down on his face. As Tom 

lay their, crushed under her youthful body, Michelle carried on a 

conversation with her mother. "Can Lisa come over and sit on the 

slave?" she asked. 

"Hmmm… We have to be careful whom we let sit on him," said Jody. 

"Lisa won't tell anyone," said Michelle. "I told her we had a 

chair slave, and I think she wants to sit on him." 

Tom was beginning to feel more like an object than a human being. 

Obviously, both these women were use to sitting on a man. Michelle 

got up. Tom breathed in precious oxygen. But his freedom was short. 

Jody came over and panted her butt on his face again. 

"He seems to be a good chair-slave," said Jody. "He hasn't 

protested too much, so far." He was once again enveloped in the 

darkness of her ass crack. His nose mashed down and the couch 

beneath him groaned as she shifted her weight around. "I hate it 

when they protest." She said. 

"Me, too, mom," said Michelle. " The only reason they're here is 

so we can sit on them. And then they protest: Oh, don't sit on 

me….Oh, you're too heavy…Oh, I can't breath…Isn't that irritating," 

she added. 

"It sure is," said Jody. She moved over on his chest and stared 

down at Tom. "Are you going to be a good butt cushion?" she asked 

Tom. "Are you going to lay there and let us sit on you?" 

"Sure," groaned Tom. He loved the feeling of being engulfed in 

their womanliness. He loved feeling totally inferior to them. But he 

had to admit to himself it was more painful than he had imagined it 

would be. 

"Good," said Michelle. "I'm going to sit on your face again." Her 

mother moved over and sat on his cock and stomach. Michelle towered 

over him, gave her skirt a flip and sat down full on face. Now Tom 

was made to endure the weight of two lovely bodies atop him. "You 

should be upstairs studying," said her mother. "I know," admitted 

Michelle." Can I take the chair-slave with me?" 

"Well… I suppose so," said Jody. "But if he gives you any 

trouble, let me know." 

"I will," said Michelle. Then she arose from her fleshy seat. Tom 

was told to follow Michelle upstairs to her room. Michelle told him 

to lay on her bed, face up. Tom obeyed. Michelle wiggled out of her 

skirt and blouse and stood over Tom. Then she got a pair of blue 

jeans out of the closet. She sat on Tom's face as she removed her 

sneakers. She wiggled into the tight blue jeans and put on a sweat 

shirt. Then she ordered Tom to come to her computer desk. She 

ordered him to position his face on the leather computer chair. Tom 

did, and stared up at the denim covered butt that would soon be 

crushing upon him. Michelle sat on his face, and Tom remained wedged 

into the crack of her round jean covered butt as she punched at the 

keyboard. She arose slightly, only long enough for him to grab a few 

breaths, and then sat back down on him. Tom continued to function as 

her computer chair for the next hour. Finally, her mother came up 

and Tom was told to go home. But his orders were to return tomorrow 

night. He was told that they didn't like their chair-slave to be 

away too long. 

Despite the fact that his chest and head hurt from being sat on, 

Tom couldn't help himself from returning the next night. As he lay 

on the couch, adorned in his gold and black uniform and feeling much 

like the couch itself, he wondered what the evening would bring. 

Jody, dressed in tan shorts, was the first to sit on him. Then 

Michelle came home. She had her friend Lisa with her. Lisa was a bit 

shorter than Michelle. She had brown hair and eyes and a very well 

filled out figure. Both girls still had their school outfits on. 

"This is our chair-slave," said Michelle, proudly, nodding at 

Tom. 

Lisa giggled. "Do you really sit on him?" she asked, curiously. 

"Of course," said Michelle. "He's here to be sat on." She pranced 

over to the couch, swishing her skirt as she went, turned, and sat 

on his face. She reclined back and crossed her legs. "He's fun to 

sit on," she told her friend. "Want to sit on him, Lisa?"

"Oh, I couldn't," he heard Lisa saying. "My butt probably 

stinks." 

"So what?" said Michelle. "He's only a butt cushion." She raised 

her fanny a few inches off his face. "You can fart on him if you 

want to." She passed gas right in Tom's face and both girls giggled. 

Michelle got up and Lisa approached the couch. 

"Sit on him," urged Michelle. 

Lisa pulled her skirt up a little, as she had seen Michelle 

doing. "Are you sure you don't care if I sit on your face?" she 

asked Tom. 

"That's what I'm here for," said Tom, anticipating contact with 

her magnificent bottom. 

"Okay…" she warned. "I hope I don't squash you." She flipped her 

skirt backwards and sat down on his face. At first, her panty 

covered butt gently touched his face-as if she were afraid to 

actually sit down. 

"It's okay," said Michelle. "Sit on him, Lisa." The couch 

creaked as Lisa settled her weight upon his face. Then the twin 

mounds of Michelle's ass crushed down on his chest and stomach. 

"Got room on him for me?" he heard Jody say. 

"Sure mom," said Michelle. She edged her butt closer to Lisa's 

and Jody sat on his legs. This was incredible! Thought Tom. He was 

literally being used as a couch cushion by three sexy females. 

The following night was a Friday night. Jody told him to be there 

promptly at 8:00. She said she was having a small cocktail party. 

She wanted to make sure she had seating for her lady guests. About 

twelve women, aging in range from Michelle's age on up to Jody's., 

arrived. They were all dressed up in nice cocktail dresses with wide 

hemlines. Tom spent the night receiving the bottoms of all the 

women. Apparently, Jody had formed a club of women who loved to face 

sit men. It was late in the evening when a new woman arrived. Tom 

gasped when he saw who it was. Heather from the office approached 

him and looked down at him. 

"This is our new chair-slave," said Jody to Heather. 

"Tom!" gasped Heather. "You..? What are you doing here?" 

"Oh, I'm just laying here getting sat on," said Tom. His 

excitement had now reached a feverish pitch. Heather. How often he 

had fantasized her sitting on his face. How often he wished he could 

be her office chair… Heather was standing over him. She was wearing 

a black evening dress, well above the knees and wide at the 

hem. "Are you going to sit on me, too, Heather?" he asked, 

nervously. 

"Get this," said Heather to Jody. "Your slave-chair wants to know 

if I'm going to sit on him." She took the hem of her dress and 

lifted it up a little. "Of course I'm going to sit on you." She 

swiveled her hips, her dress flew over his face, and she sat down 

heavily upon him with casual abandon. Heather sat on his face with 

the same sense of abandon he had seen her show her office chair. He 

was simply something for these women to sit on, and Heather was one 

of the women. Suddenly, his chest crushed down from the weight of 

another woman, and his stomach and thighs were tortured by yet 

another. Heather and two of the other women sat across his body and 

chatted to each other as if Tom weren't even under them. Heather got 

up from his face just long enough to twirl around, displaying her 

new dress to the other women. Then she sat back down on his face. 

The women were, quite literally, using him as a couch cushion, and 

Tom, despite the excitement in his cock, was beginning to fear for 

his life. Just before he lost consciousness, Tom was thinking one 

never knows the secret desires of women… One never knows.

--end--