Smother High

The terms lad, youth boy, etc are meant to be vague and do not denote any specific age.

Smother High by mike_3121 [at] hotmail [dot] com

Young Debbie Anderson lay on her bed. She was totally relaxed and, like most young girls, she didn't want to get out of her warm comfortable bed. With a slow sensual grinding of her hips she pressed down on her prone victim. She had him down in a 69 smother position with her legs spread wide apart. His young chest was pressed to her stomach and she could feel his erratic breathing.

Debbie loved to sleep atop a victim and had done so ever since she was a little girl. She could feel her young victim wiggling about under her, trying to get air. She had him just where she wanted him with his young nose pressed deep into her vagina. Slowly she manipulated her hips in a circular manner. Ahhh she said with a sigh, and pressed down hard. The victim, a small boy, wiggled about and desperately tried to pry her off. His attempts at freedom were pathetically insufficient.

Debbie pressed down hard and arched her back. She kept that position for several minutes until her young victim ceased struggling. Debbie stayed on him for a few minutes longer to make sure he was truly dead. While laying there she heard the familiar "whoosh" of her mothers Victim Disposal Shoot in use. Like Debbie her mother had been smothering victims since she was a little girl. She'd accumulated well over 40,000 kills so far. In the world of smothering that was considered less than average.

Debbie climbed off her recent kill. He had been a rather delicious morsel and served her female needs well. Now, however, he would join the nitrogen cycle like so many thousand's of her previous kills. He was thankfully light and she lifted his limp body off the bed and carefully laid it on the shoot. Debbie pulled a large lever and he vanished out of sight and down into the buildings cold storage area. In Debbie's world all apartment buildings, public buildings and even malls had to have victim smothering centers to accommodate a woman's pleasure.

Debbie was a lucky young girl and had her own bathroom. She was young, in her mid teens. Her long curly blonde hair shinned and reflected in her mirror. She had a nice pleasant face with well balanced features. Her eyes were bright blue and wide.

Debbie was a budding young girl and often looked at her chest hopping for bigger, faster breast development. Some the girls at her school, even those a few years younger, had nice mature breasts. Debbie had long silky smooth legs, even a bit on the muscular side. Oh well, she thought, if she turned out anything like her stunningly beautiful mother she'd be happy.

Debbie met her mother at the breakfast table. Her mother, Glenda Harper, was a tall leggy blonde. She often turned a man's heads wherever she went. Her true passion was smothering; It was almost an obsession, she always had to have a young victim's nose pressed tight inside her well curved body at all times. Debbie and her mother subscribed to a victim delivery service. They had contracted with a well known victim supply company, Blue Velvet Victims. It was one of the best in the trade and was always prompt with a regular supply of delicious victims. Like most women their primary choice was young boys, they were so wiggly. Now and then they'd have a young girl, just to spice things up a bit.

While eating breakfast they heard a metallic mechanical sound coming from the bedrooms. Curious they both looked inside. "Oh hell," Glenda said in anger. "Not again." Sometimes, on rare occasions the victim shoots would back up. Previously killed victims lying on the shoot would reverse direction and reappear. Their on Glenda's bedroom floor was the bodies of
her last three kills as well as another two others still on the slide. "What the hell!" she said in anger.

Seconds later Glenda was on the phone to the building maintenance manager. Evidently it had happened all over the apartment complex and he was fielding angry calls from women all over the building. Old Mrs. Kennedy was particularly irate (she was always irate, a real crank). He reassured Glenda he would get it fixed immediately and the bodies removed.

Putting down the phone, "Damn that's the second time it's done that. They need a whole new slide system." Glenda said in anger. After breakfast they both exchanged small talk and went their separate ways.

Glenda left for her job as a currency trader. She wasn't the best at it and often miscalculated. Her boss, though, was good and had an instinct when a currency was going to rise or fall. Like many women that smothered she continued her special "hobby" during the day, even while working. The Blue Velvet Victim Delivery Service would deliver choice young male right to her office.

Glenda's victim would kneel under the desk. She would sit in her chair, spread her legs wide and press the victims face tight to her crotch, making sure his nose was in as deep as possible. She then, using a commercially available leather strap, would strap her young victim tight to her body. He would be held in firmly while she made calls and conducted business. It worked out fine except for when she'd have to leave her desk. She'd smother three boys in the morning and sometimes three or four in the afternoon.

There were three other women in the office that also smothered victims. Often during breaks or at lunch they'd have "women talk" and discuss their particular diversion. It was a rather nice arrangement. One of the women, the HR director, Mrs. Judy Dix, had a furious appetite for victims. She was reaching retirement age. Tall and dignified, Judy went about her duties as Human Resources Director in as professional manner as possible. Everyone liked and respected her. Glenda was a bit jealous over her massive kill record of 100,000.

It always fascinated Glenda when Judy would push her chair back and hike up her skirt. There would be a young victim with his face pressed tight to her crotch. It must have been extremely delicious to her for Judy often had this dreamy well satisfied look about her.

Meanwhile young Debbie walked alone towards her nearby Junior High. Next year she would be attending the adjacent high school. Debbie was one of the luck few, a cheerleader. Many of the boys, even a few of the most popular, were always hitting on her. Debbie loved it. It also helped because she seldom wore underpants, except during her period. Debbie would act coy and expose a bit of forbidden flesh to a cute young guy. She was in no was promiscuous, she just loved to flirt. Debbie, like the other girls at school, didn't wear panties because of her constant smothering.

All five of Debbie's cheerleader friends smothered. It was a fun group but they would soon be broken up in the fall when they began high school. When she got to school there was the traditional giggling in the hallway, the often over use of the word "like" and the traditional slamming of a locker that wouldn't close right. These girls were average teens in all aspects except they smothered victims on a regular basis.

Debbie went into her English class and approached her seat. As required by law, each school had to have smothering chairs available for the students. Debbie's school was not different in that regard. The smothering chair resembled a locker room bench. It was long with black leather padding. On each end was an adjustable hard leather pad. You could then adjust the angle of the victims head so his nose could enter you at the best angle. The school, also required by law, provided the victims. Her school did a good job and the victims, though not on the level of quality as Blue Velvet's, were pretty good. While cheer leading at various sporting events she often talked to the opposing teams cheerleaders. It seemed some schools had, like cafeteria food, had not so savory victims.

Debbie's young victim had a mop of soft brown hair. He was terrified and watched her approach. The lad was already strapped down so Debbie wouldn't have to deal with that. Victims were strapped down not to be mean but to keep them in place so they wouldn't fall off during smothering. His big brown eyes followed her every movement. The lad was virtually trembling, laying so for whom knows how long contemplating his fate.

There were strict rules about smothering. Though considered a victim you couldn't torture them or mess with them in any way except to smother them, or on occasion head scissor them. True you could do what they call "Cat and Mouse" him, meaning working him up to the edge of a smother and back off. This was always fun. Some women would circumvent this "no torture" restriction by laying a victim down on sharp rocks and have him wiggle all about in pain while being smothered. Debbie's mother said if she ever caught her doing anything improper with a victim she'd be in deep trouble.

Debbie smiled down at her young captive and swung a shapely bare leg over the bench, straddling his head. Several of the boys around her stopped talking and watched. Debbie, realizing she had an audience, hiked up her cheerleaders short skirt and slowly lowered herself down onto the boys upturned face. With a quick wiggle of her hips his nose was now resting comfortably deep inside her. Debbie's other smothering companions began to mount their victims as well.

There were three other girls in Debbie's class that also smothered. One girl near Debbie seemed very prudish. She wore long dresses and was careful to not let any of the boys in the class catch a glimpse of bare flesh. She did a fine job of smothering and consumed about 8 victims per day. Debbie could only manage 6. The girl was very studious and had the grades to match. She was tall and more developed for her age. She had thick glasses and kept her hair done up in an unflattering tight bun. She might as well have worn a sign, "Potential Boyfriends Stay Away." The girl was not talkative but did have a pleasant disposition. Debbie and her cheerleader companions often talked about convincing the girl, Heather Taylor, to let them do a full makeover of her. They even asked her once and Heather declined in a respectful tactful manner.

The teacher waited until all of the girls were positioned atop their victims before she began the class. All of the girls began, almost in unison, to pump down hard on their twitching victims. Sometimes the young lads would survive through a class. They would remain strapped down and be remount by a girl in the next class. If a girl made a kill during class they would have to quickly unstrap the victim and drag him off to a corner to be collected by the janitor. They'd then have to wait to get another victim in their next class. The school administration, though respectful of smothering, wanted it to cause as little class disruption as possible.

Though she tried, Debbie's victim survived English class. About two thirds through the class Heather completed her kill and, in as unobtrusive way as possible, drug him off to a corner. That's the way it often went. Sometimes Debbie's was hot and knocked off the victim's one after the other, on other occasions she couldn't hardly smother the smallest tyke.

The next class was math. Upon entering the classroom she found her victim to be a survivor from a previous girl's smother. The blonde cute lad was exhausted, his hair all matted down and he was gulping for breathe is small sharp gulps. He had small ringlets of dark brown pubic hair pressed to his face. Who ever had been on him really had put him through the paces.

It was of no consequence; soon Debbie was mounted atop him, massaging his nose deep inside her. He didn't last but a half hour into the class. On the day droned in its usual boring manner.

At last the final bell and Debbie was free. She walked past the students milling about on the sidewalk. Debbie noticed Heather talking to a small girl waiting for the bus. Debbie smiled. Heather had a rather ravenous appetite for victims and was selecting this tender morsel for her next kill. There were strict rules. You couldn't smother fellow students on school grounds. However you could select them and lead them away to be smothered off campus. Debbie had done this many times. The young girl looked frightened. Heather was quit firm about it and led her away.

Debbie decided to take a shortcut through a pretty park. The weather was perfect and the flowers in the park were always so beautiful in the spring. The park was mostly empty, just a few people about. Debbie was halfway through the park when a middle-aged woman approached. She was of average height with light brown hair. The lady was wearing a mid length loose fitting dress, the type preferred when doing some public smothering.

"Hi," she said with a smile. "My name's Joyce Wills. What's yours?" She said in a pleasant manner. Debbie stopped and nodded. "Debbie Anderson." "Oh yes, you'll do nicely. Lay down over here in the shade." the woman said she in a pleasant tone." Debbie smiled. Females that smother are, in turn, exempt from smothering. They are granted a special license that they must carry at all times.

"I'm exempt," Debbie said looking through her purse. Then it hit her, she had left the license on her bureau. Panic stricken she pawed through her purse. Then a painful memory overtook her. She remembered clearly leaving it at home - a most deadly mistake. It was useless to argue; Debbie had no choice but submit to the smother. She had casually smothered countless tens of thousands of victims now it was her turn to "go under."

"I love your cheerleader outfit." The lady said. She seemed very nice and Debbie felt, "well if she was to be smothered this lady was as good as its going to get." Debbie lay down flat on her back. The lady, Joyce stood over her head. Debbie looked up and, as expected she was not wearing undergarments. Slowly she lowered herself down onto Debbie's face for a squat smother. She spent a few moments maneuvering Debbie's nose into just the right position. "Ah, your nose fits so nicely. I'm going to definitely enjoy you." She said then began grinding down hard.

Debbie felt the back of her head being pushed into the grass. She could see out a bit but the view was mostly of the bridge of her nose disappearing up inside the woman. Joyce had a thick profusion of dark brown pubic hair that tickled Debbie's cheeks. The smothering continued without relent for perhaps and hour. It was exhausting Debbie. At last the woman climbed off, just to change positions. The coolness of the outside air hit Debbie like a slap from a cold towel. Debbie only had a few seconds but managed to get a few gulps of fresh air. Joyce then changed to a reverse smother with Debbie's nose up her butt. Just before going under Debbie looked about.

Then she saw her, Heather, and not too far away. Unfortunately her back was to Debbie. Heather was hunched over a small girl, no doubt the girl she'd selected at school. She wasn't looking around but deep in concentration slowly smothering her young victim. Debbie saw the girl's legs and arms violently thrashing about. Maybe, just maybe she could somehow get Heater's attention. She could vouch for her, perhaps even rush to Debbie's home and retrieve her smothering ID. Debbie had no hope before, now there was a slim chance.

Her chances lessened when Joyce lowered her bare posterior down onto Debbie's face and began tracking her nose up her butt. From a professional standpoint Joyce was top notch, she was well versed in smothering. Debbie did have one advantage; Joyce wasn't interested in a quick kill but was savoring Debbie like a connoisseur savors a fine wine.

Debbie was getting pretty groggy from all of the furious smothering. She was loosing all concept of time. While furiously "tracking" as it was called Debbie's nose up her butt Joyce's cell phone rang. The incessant stroking stopped suddenly.

Debbie could hear the conversation quit clearly; it was her husband explaining why he'd be late for supper. Evidently some important contract had to go out that evening. Joyce said it was okay, she was in the park enjoying a leisure smother of a cheerleader no less. Debbie heard Joyce's husband saw, "No way?" Then added, "Really!" Joyce then said, "See for your self."

Once again Debbie felt a blast of cool fresh air. She had been under for so long that she blinked into the bright sun, adjusting her eyes to the daylight. Joyce climbed off her and sat high on Debbie's shoulders. She then hiked up her dress clear to her waist. Next, with Debbie's head framed between her powerful thighs, she took a few pictures of Debbie to show her husband. Joyce turned around and aimed the camera phone at Debbie's uniform.

"Damn, well I'll be. She awful cute too." He said. Joyce seemed quit pleased. They then began discussing various mundane problems such as what she wanted him to pick up for dinner. There was a clear distinction being made; pizza or Chinese. They discussed it back and forth a bit then the husband said, "Hey, let the cheerleader decide." Joyce held the phone to Debbie's mouth. Without hesitation she said, "Like there's no question. Pizza!" That seemed to please Joyce's husband. Joyce looked down at Debbie and slid forward slightly, inserting her nose up her wet vagina. She left her dress still pulled up about her. Debbie could see out a bit. She arched her head back and looked for Heather.

Heather was now atop her wiggling victim in a 69 smother and facing towards Debbie. The problem was Heather was reading something and not looking up. Debbie waived her arms but it was a useless gesture. Debbie did notice the young girl was still kicking and thrashing about, though not as much as before. Debbie thought she must be giving Heather a nice ride. Wiggle, thrashing victims make the best kills.

"Could I see your little cheerleader once more?" Joyce's husband said. Joyce spread her legs real wide but was careful to keep Debbie's nose tight up inside her. Joyce aimed the phone at Debbie. Debbie could see him, in a nice suite at some busy office. She winked and he winked back. "Hang in their kid." He said in a pleasant manner.

Joyce put the phone away and pulled her dress down so it completely covered Debbie. She could see out clearly but really only the filtered rays of the sun shinning through Joyce's colorful dress. Joyce now began grinding down, smothering hard on poor Debbie. On and on the smothering went with no let up. Debbie gave up on any salvation and got more and more disoriented. Her whole world was getting darker by the second. She did remember hearing Joyce moaning in pleasure achieving orgasm after orgasm. Darkness gripped her.

Slowly she came around. She was in her own bed with her mother at her side. Evidently Heather, after completing her kill, noticed the familiar cheerleader uniform of Debbie. She explained to Joyce the situation. Joyce was, on the other hand, at the height of several orgasms and not anxious to stop. She was skeptical that Debbie smothered. Everyone, especially some cute cheerleader like Debbie, would surely carry their ID. Just by chance Heather had a group picture of the girls from her class, all mounted atop victims. This convinced Joyce and she immediately got off Debbie just prior to the final kill. It had been a very close call.

Once Debbie came around she called and thanked Heather profusely. Heather seemed a bit out of breath, she was at that moment grinding down hard on another young victim. Debbie mentioned Heather's cute victim and how envious she was. Heather mentioned there were two of them “ twins! She planned on nailing the other one the next day but Debbie could have her. Debbie's eye opened wide. Never had she ever been so anxious to go to school in her life. That's all she could think off.

The next day at school Debbie kept an eye out for the young girl. She was no where to be found. Perhaps someone else got her, she reasoned. It was at lunch when she spied her. She was sitting at a table with a half dozen other girls. The girl was a dead on image of her sister. Debbie looked her over carefully then approached. The girls all stopped talking. Perhaps they sensed what was about. The young girl looked up at Debbie. Her eyes were all red from crying. She was obviously upset over the recent death of her sister.

"Wait for me after school by the bus stop. I'm going to take you home and smother you all weekend." Debbie said looking over the delicious young morsel. The girl was speechless and just nodded in agreement. "Wow, like you are so lucky. Like a cheerleader!" One girl said trying to cheer up her companion. "Willow, this is sooo cool," another added excitedly. Willow
looked up at Debbie and managed a smile, "sure." She said simply. "If you don't mind could I have your MP3 player?" a dark haired girl asked. "Hey I had dibs." Another replied in anger. Debbie rolled her eyes when she walked away and mumbled, "Some friends."

It seemed it take forever for the day to end. There she was, waiting patiently for Debbie. Just then Heather came along. She had a huge back pack full of books, no doubt some serious reading for the approaching weekend. Heather looked down at Willow and said, "Wow, you really are an exact twin. Your sister was very delicious and wiggled the whole time." She then patted Willow on top of her long light brown hair.

Heather had a young boy with her. He looked about nervously and exchanged glances with Willow. She introduced her victim, Russell Jenkins. The boy was obviously upset at being selected for the smother. Debbie once again thanked Heather for saving her life and for telling her about young Willow. This was going to be a fun weekend. Heather mentioned that Debbie could come over and spend the weekend at her house and they could do some mutual smothering together. That sounded great. It was often lonely in her bedroom smothering a victim with only her TV or music to keep her company.

Debbie was in no hurry to finish off the savory Willow. Besides she liked the idea of making friends with Heather; maybe to draw her out a bit and loosen her up. As they turned to leave the boy managed a wave at Willow. "Bye Willow, see you Saturday." He said. "What's that all about? Do you know him?" Heather said towering over the small lad. The boy was a bit shy and mumbled in a soft voice he'd always had a crush on Willow or perhaps it was her twin sister Megan “ he always got the two confused.

Debbie, after she'd gotten home immediately began to smother Willow. Not too hard though, she wanted her to last. Finally Glenda came home from work. It had been, as usual, another boring day. She wanted nothing more than a shower, a nice dinner followed by a leisure smother or two.

Young Russell Jenkins was absolutely terrified when the tall older girl, Heather selected him for the kill. He was well aware what was to happen next. His mother and two older sisters, and most if not all of the women in his family, smothered.

Some, his aunt in particular, was an expert; She even wrote a book on the subject. What with all the smothering going on he knew this day would come. Not long ago his oldest sister, a senior at a local community college, casually pushed him to the floor and sat on his face. She smothered him in a gentle manner for a few hours. Maybe that was a prelude to some more serious and deadly smothering to follow.

Young Russell had been upset. Just two days prior he went looking for his best friend Timmy. Russell went into his mother's bedroom to ask if she'd seen him. As expected she was stretched out atop a small boy in the common 69 position. Her legs were spread wide apart and Russell could quit plainly see the top of her victims head and where his nose vanished up inside her. His mother was keeping up a slow unhurried grinding motion on her young victim. The boy's feet hardly came up to her large breasts. She was talking on the cell phone to one of her friends. Other than smothering, yakking away on the phone seemed to be his mother's favorite diversion.

"What is it dear?" she said putting the phone down for a second. "I'm looking for my friend Timmy. Have you seen him?" He stated in all innocence. Russell's mother continued to talk on the phone and just pointed down, she was mounted on him.

Russell gasped for breath. His mother was casually smothering his best friend! Russell's mother liked slow relaxing smothers and no doubt young Timmy would be under her all day, perhaps longer if he could last it.

Russell climbed up on the bed and knelt down by Timmy's head. Russell's mother didn't seem to care, he'd seen her smother countless thousands of victims and use every conceivable position on them. Russell looked down with sympathy on his friend.

What could he say? Timmy's young freckled nose was now pressed tight up inside Russell's mother's vagina. Her dark brown pubic hair all but obscured his view. Timmy was wide awake and his large green eyes followed Russell's every movement.

Russell got a wet cloth and wiped the sweat from Timmy's forehead. "How ya do'en?" Russell said softly. Timmy raised his right hand and gave him thumbs up. "She treat'en you okay?" Russell said in sympathy. Timmy winked back at him. Just then Russell's mother pressed down hard and massaged Timmy's nose up tight into her. Timmy's face now all but vanished.

Russell's mother put her cell phone away and looked over her shoulder. "Russell honey, why don't you go out and play. Mommy's got some serious Mommy things to do to the boy." She said with a smile. Russell nodded and patted his friend Timmy on the top of the head. That was the last he saw of him alive. It was disconcerting for Russell to lie in his bed and hear the violent "squeak, squeaking of his mother's bed in the next room while she smothered the life out of his best friend. Later that evening his mother finished him off amid loud moans of pleasure. His body was then placed on the back porch for pickup the next morning.

At the present moment the tall rather plain looking girl, Heather was looking down at him like one would look at a delicious desert. They were both silent as they rode along in the school bus to Heather's home. Heather lived in a large, old Victorian style home. It was generally well kept but the siding needed a bit of paint. There was a bit of "Hi Mom. I'm home," as Heather entered through the front door. Heather escorted Russell into the kitchen and poured them both well needed cokes.

Heather was not very talkative. Russell could see she wore no makeup and kept her long brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was quit tall and fully developed for her age. Heather wore large thick out of style glasses that gave her a bit of an owl like appearance. After they both downed their drinks she escorted him up stairs.

Heather's mother called to her from her bedroom. Heather motioned for him to follow her. Mrs. Taylor was completely nude. She lay flat on a large bed. She was, like Heather a big woman with wide thick thighs. She wasn't fat but just a big woman. Her legs were spread wide apart and bent at the knee. Mrs. Taylor was in her early 50's with streaks of gray in her long light brown hair. She was reading and had on reading glasses. She took them off and greeted Heather in a warm tone.

It was no surprise to see a small shirtless boy on his stomach with his face pressed to her crotch. Mrs. Taylor smiled, “Oh what cute boy you are,” she said, looking Russell over.. "I've smothered
a 100,000 victims so far. She then pointed to a plaque on the wall. It was from the National Smother Center proclaiming her a member of the 100,000 Club. It was quit an honor. Come closer." She said motioning him forward.

The victim was several years younger than Russell. He wasn't moving at all and his hands were resting on her thick thighs. Russell could plainly see his head pressed to her crotch with both her hands placed to the back of his head holding him in tightly. She was not so gently grinding her hips around in a circular motion, massaging his nose around inside her. Russell could detect faint liquid "squish" sounds as she did so.

Heather and her mother talked for a bit. Just the usual, "How was school? How did the math test go?" that sort of thing. A few minutes later Heather led Russell to her bedroom. She told him to lay flat on her wide bed. Minutes later she sat on his face facing his feet. Heather didn't do much in the way of tracking. She just picked up a book and began to read. Her bare butt felt cool to his head. So far it had not been an unpleasant experience. He had a good opinion of Heather and her mother. Though a bit soft spoken they seemed very nice people.

It was quiet for a long time, just the distant sound of a lawnmower somewhere in the neighborhood. Russell could then hear the sounds of people arriving. Two girls that virtually bounced up the stairs, then two boys, and finally the father arrived home. Heather reluctantly put her book down and climbed off Russell. She told him to clean up for dinner.

Russell splashed some water in his face and ambled downstairs. Seated around the dinner table were two older boys, perhaps in their late teens, well beyond the vulnerable smothering age. The ignored him and concentrated on their meatloaf. Heather had Russell sit next to her. Seated next to Heather's mother was a small frail lad, the one that had had his face tight to Mrs. Taylor's crotch. He looked exhausted and just pecked at his food. The two girls were older, perhaps in their early 20's.

Both were prettier than Heather and wore their hair in a more popular style. Russell could easily see the family resemblance in all of them. They were tall sturdy people. This assemblage resembled more of a farm family circa 1860.

Mr. Taylor seemed a bit of a contrast to the rest of the family. He was tall, a big man, with large hands and a full friendly face. He talked and joked the whole time. He even managed to get Mrs. Taylor's young victim to laugh a bit. His outgoing friendly manner had evidently not rubbed off on the rest of his family. They were nice people, just reserved and quiet.

All through dinner Mrs. Taylor fussed with her young victim, asking him if he wanted extra helpings of food and such. She even took time to hug him and once kissed him gently on the forehead. After dinner Russell and Mrs. Taylor's frail victim, sat at the table while dishes were cleaned and put away. At last they were through and Russell and Jay were once again led upstairs.

Russell hoped Heather would sit on his face like she'd done before. She had other plans. It seemed curious she asked him several times if he needed to go to the bathroom. She spent a long time in the bathroom herself and emerged totally naked.

Heather had a very nice body. Her legs were long and sleek, her stomach flat. Russell's eyes went right to her crotch. She had a more than profuse tangle of light brown pubic hair. Once out of her long dress and her huge glasses she was a stunner.

Heather seemed in more of a happy mode and bounced up onto the bed. She sat with her back to the headboard and her legs spread wide apart. Russell didn't need to be told and lay down on his stomach, crawling forward and pressed his face to her crotch. Her pubic hair was all nice and soft and warm.

Once satisfied with the position of his nose she began to smother him in fierce hip grinding motions. Heather, like her mother had done, put both hands to the back of his head and held him tight to her crotch. He was instantly desperate for air. The beauty Heather furiously smothered Russell without mercy. At one point Heather decided to take a bit of a breath. She tapped Russell on the back and asked how he was doing. It was difficult breathing so he waived at her.

The break was altogether too short. Once again Russell was subjected to Heathers smothering fury. It was very wet inside her, and hot liquid was running into his nose. His shoulders were pressed tight to her thighs. Then there was the heat. Russell had never felt claustrophobic before but how could he avoid it. He flayed his arms about trying to somehow pry his face free. Heather was patient and waited for his struggling to subside. His desperate bid for freedom cost him many gulps of air. He lay still, “ defeated.

Heather remounted Russell in a 69 smother position. With her young victim firmly positioned Heather began to grind her hips around in a slow sensual manner, massaging his young nose around inside. Her rhythmic grinding was having a hypnotic soothing effect of him. Gradually Russell was getting accustomed to his new home. They were bonded as one, united in a deadly embrace. He could clearly hear her heart beat and she his. Heather picked up one of her school books and began to read.

Everything in Russell's restricted world was very quiet. Now and then he'd hear a soft liquid like "squish" sound while she massaged his nose around inside of her wet vagina. Otherwise he was left alone with his thoughts. Russell thought it funny. Heather was so reserved and shy, quit prudish in fact. Yet, she calmly, and with little concern put Russell in all manner of sensual positions. He gave up, he could never figure out girls.

He had no idea how long he'd been under but suddenly there was this blast of outside air. Now able to breath freely he gasped in air like a fish out of water. After he had partially recovered Heather led him to the bathroom to let him freshen up. Russell noticed it was now dark out.

Heather now escorted Russell back to her bedroom. She directed him to lay flat on his back. Heather then climbed up and sat high on his chest. She spread her legs real wide. Despite seeing many females naked he'd never stared into the intimate depths of the female body. Heather moved forward and pressed her vagina down onto Russell's upturned face. Her soft pubic hairs brushed against his face and tickled. He knew what would come next, the violent smothering.

Later that evening she repositioned Russell into a 69. With Russell safely under her she relaxed and pulled the covers over both them. Then in a soft gentle voice she encouraged Russell to get some sleep for tomorrow would be a difficult day for him. "Tomorrow would be difficult!" he thought. Russell then thought despite her gentle nature and fabulous looks she was as violent a smothering machine as any of them.

Debbie virtually bounced out of bed the next morning. She had slept atop Willow in a 69 position all night but had been gentile with her. Debbie didn't really want to go lightly with any of her victims. She wanted to smother the hell out of them and take them to the edge of death as much as possible. All packed she headed towards their light green mini-van. Debbie's mother, Glenda was already at the wheel.

Smothering had become such and obsession for Glenda that she had her driver's seat modified to accommodate a victim. She could drive along while mounted atop a choice young lad. This was a common modification and came as an option on a few popular cars and vans. The ride went uneventful and they were soon driving the short way up the Taylor's drive.

"You DO have your ID with you?" Glenda said sternly to Debbie when Debbie exited the van. "You almost died. Never go out without your ID. I just read of a young girl that went swimming. She didn't pin her ID to her suit and was nailed as soon as she got out of the water. She was smothered to death only a few meters from her ID card." "Yes mother." Debbie said in a "I've heard that lecture before," tone.

Heather was at the front door to greet Debbie. She was wearing a colorful thin housecoat. At her side was a small nervous dark brown haired lad. Willow looked around, "Where's Russell?" Heather got a guilty look on her face and stated that she'd gotten a bit out of hand last night and smothered him to death. "Sorry," she said with a sheepish grin. Willow seemed stunned. Heather, wanting to change the subject, got all animated, "Come along you two and meet my mother."

Heather and her young victim, along with Debbie and Willow climbed the old winding staircase. Mrs. Taylor's bedroom door was open. She was naked and sitting firmly on the face of a small boy. The bodies of two recent kill, also small boys lay near the bed. Mrs. Taylor had her current victim down in a straddle smother.

"Hi glad to meet you." Mrs. Taylor said with a broad smile. Debbie looked on the wall and saw the framed Million Victim Award. She was completely astonished. This was a truly rare and much sought after award. "Yes. I have been smothering most of my life.

"I'd love to learn how to smother like that," Debbie said truly amazed. "Really," Mrs. Taylor said stopping her grinding for a second. "I could teach you. You'd have to come over a couple times a week for lessons. "Are you kidding YES?" Debbie almost shouted. Mrs. Taylor looked at Debbie and said in a serious manner. “Don't forget your smothering license. I'd have no qualms at all of sitting on your cute face.”

Mrs. Taylor felt that Debbie was a bit skeptical at becoming well versed in smothering. "You see it's not really about size it's about muscle control. You have to be in control of your body, your muscles. Also, you have to learn to be sensitive to your victim, be aware of his heart beat, breathing pattern. I can teach you all these things. If you're a good student I guarantee that you'll be a smothering machine by the end of summer. Also, I have connections and Smothering High and Smothering University. I can easily pull a few strings. How does a full scholarship sound?"

Debbie was virtually bubbling over with excitement. Wow! Smother High.