You gulp at the sight of Mark standing in the doorway, his wrestler build taking up most of the space between the frames. Through his tight dress shirt, you see his round stomach pressing against the fabric, years of beers had added pudge between his skin and abdominal muscles. Above his belly, the material also struggled to hold back his large pecs, the buttons running from his chest to lower stomach looked like they were about to pop. He makes your position shake as he slowly stomps over to his desk, putting you under his ass. The amount of detail that the slacks are allowing your eyes to behold is unethical. The seam of the pants is wedged deep between his cheeks,making every twitch the fat glutes make noticeable. You're unsure if he means for them to be so tight, but he was a college wrestler years ago, maybe tight is natural to him. Your trance is broken as the moment of suspense occurs, Marks knees buckle and his cheeks begin to spread, the seam of his pants coming straight for you. Darkness and pressure wash over you as Mark begins to grind his ass into the seat, making it groan in agony at his sheer size. You are worse off as the tape has already ripped off the chair and has rolled you up like a cocoon against the seam between Marks cheeks. As he stops moving and settles in on his work, you are left encased in the cloth covered ass crack of your most hated rival.
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