She begins rubbing her thighs together, stimulating herself. Her mouth is full of the hangman's salty semen, a symbol of life in her mouth even as she...travels the road to death. She is able to keep this up for several minutes, but eventually her chest muscles get too weak to force enough air past the noose. She rubs more frantically now, racing against panic, unconsciousness, and death. Soon she can no longer control herself. Her hands twist, fighting the bonds holding them behind her back. Her. ” “Mother, please,” Sandy pleaded. “Yes, I do have a thong, but I only wear it when I'm sun-tanning alone. No, I wasn't wearing that.” “Then what were you wearing?” her mother asked, in a more understanding tone of voice. Sandy hesitated, then said, “You remember that other suit you bought for me a coupla years back?” A real puzzled look came over her mother's face. “The one I bought you for your fifteenth birthday? The black and red one?” “Yeah, that one,” Sandy confirmed. “Thats what I put. More

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