Ignored Face sitting smother

I ran 3 miles today. THREE. And it was SO hot outside that I literally couldn't finish the last 2 miles. I was dripping, my booty shorts were wedged so deep into my ass they basically disappeared, and I refused to suffer one more second out there.

But I still needed those calories burned. So guess who finished my workout for me?

You.

There you were, Saran wrapped to my bed like always. Tight. Helpless. Silent. Because that's your ONE job – shut up and submit. No noise. No talking. No squirming. You're furniture, and furniture doesn't speak.

Did I hear you mmph-ing under me? No. Couldn't tell you. My headphones were in, my playlist was on, and honestly... I wasn't listening anyway. You could've been begging for your life down there and I would've just twerked harder.

I finished those missing 2 miles ON your face. Squats. Butt drops. Full weight sits. Split stretches with my cheeks spread around your nose. Twerking in my sweaty, wedged-up booty shorts while your only source of air was whatever leaked through my gym clothes. I even planted my ass on your throat and giggled at the gurgling.

And when my feet were tired? Sweaty soles. Right over your face. You're welcome.

So... you survived my workout, cushion. But let's be clear – you whined, you squirmed, and I FELT it.

Next time, shut up and submit. Or I replace you. Trust me, finding a new bench is SO easy for me.