Let her fight it.
Let her struggle.
To keep the inner flesh of your your large breasts from sliding down her cheeks.
To keep those same tits from engulfing her mouth and nose, as she gasps desperately for air.
For though she may resist your smother once, twice, or perhaps again and again. They will be back.
They will find their place in your battle. As the weapon she is least prepared to endure.
The one asset of yours she cannot match, though in every other regard you are equals.