Me smothers you with her breasts

Me opens her coat. You see her young, yet ever so old, black-stockinged body, and then you can’t see anything as she wraps her arms around your head, clasping your head to her breasts.

“I had children once,” she says, as she smothers you. “I read about it.” She clutches you tighter, as you feel the warmth of her body, the softness of her breasts, and struggle to breathe. You try and pull away, but she just keeps holding on. You think you hear her heartbeat, you think you hear her crying, but then it gets hard to think; all you want to do is live and you panic and struggle one last time and then can’t struggle anymore as you drown in her breasts and unconsciousness.