" So. I screwed up my own suicide and they've put me in this museum of an institution. But whatthefuck have they done to my body? Is it hallucinatory ...rugs?" I wondered. "Or could they be using me for some sort of experimental body transplant?" The ideas kept running through my mind, growing wilder and crazier.Finally, I decided that this must be hell. I mean, deep down inside, I knew it was still me. Phil Brown. Fifty-six year old loser. And I had always heard that people who commit suicide. Down... Each cycle, the noose was a little tighter. Soon she couldn't breathe at the bottom of the cycle, and even at the very top it took some effort to get a breath. She tried to stand up completely, but Sebastian pulled at her hips, and other hands pushed down on her shoulders. But it wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be. Kind of nice, actually.Then Sebastian pulled Millie all the way down, his member impaling her as she struggled for breath. She fought to stand up, to breathe, his. I started thrusting into you as hard as I could, watching your breasts bounce with each thrust, nipples begging for attention. I lowered my head down and took your right nipple into my mouth as I thrust deep into you, I bit down slightly as I sucked on it, a slight wince of pain washing across your face, hoping you could cum with me. As I continued on you felt my cock swell as my orgasm approached. I couldn't stand it anymore, I let you nipple out of my mouth and began to grunt " Oh fuck, oh. I stroke my g-spot, feeling it grow full under my fingertips while you watch. Your cock grows harder as you intently focus your gaze on my knuckles peeking out from my wet, dark vagina . The moment I lay my head back and shut my eyes to focus on orgasm, you take my wrist and pull my hand and fingers away from my pussy. You coyly tug it to your now fully erect cock and tell me to squeeze it, hard. Cautiously moving along the bed on your knees as I tighten my grip around your thick shaft, you.