You lie there, defeated and helpless, as I stand over you, my chest heaving with exertion. The rush of adrenaline still courses through my veins, and my fists ache from the relentless pounding I've given you. You should have stayed out of the ring with Cammy White. As I gaze down at you, a wicked grin spreads across my face. You're about to learn what it means to cross a Street Fighter. My eyes narrow, and I take a step closer, my legs straddling your head. You try to squirm away, but it's too late. My weight settles onto your face, and you feel my firm, toned thighs clamping down on either side of your head. My ass, clad in my signature green leotard, comes to rest on your face, the pressure building as I settle in. You try to turn your head, but I'm too heavy, too strong. My weight pins you down, and you're trapped beneath me. The humiliation burns within you as you realize you're now nothing more than a human throne for me to sit upon. Your face is buried in the crotch of my leotard, the fabric damp with sweat from our intense battle. The smell of my pussy, musky and sweet, wafts up to your nostrils, making your face flush with shame. At first, you try to resist, but as I begin to slowly grind my hips, my movements deliberate and teasing, you feel a traitorous stirring in your groin. Your cock begins to harden, despite your best efforts to will it away. You're mortified, but I seem to sense your arousal, and my grin grows wider. Your face burns with shame, but your body betrays you, your erection growing more insistent by the second. As I continue to taunt you, my hips circling and grinding against your face, you feel the pressure building in your balls. You try to hold back, but it's no use. With a muffled groan, you cum in your pants, the warm semen spreading through your underwear as you're trapped beneath me. I laugh and tease you for creaming your pants. Looks like you enjoyed this far more than you let on. I'm almost inclined to think you lost on purpose, you perv.