Lungs weren't supposed to gurgle, were they?
When Annie sat down, you had hoped for some form of salvation—some miracle to come down and free you from her depths. You tried putting all the strength at your disposal into certain actions; a pull of the arm here, and tug of the leg there. But regardless of how hard you tried the film of moisture gluing you in place was like hardened cement. You could have pulled to the point of dislocating your limbs, or thrashed until what little oxygen you had left was forced from your lungs—and you did, oh lord did you ever.
Between your screams of pain and your bodies desperate attempt to ingest oxygen, all you managed to do was quicken your exposure to the elements—for lack of a better word. With each pant of breath you inhaled the noxious fumes of Annie's snatch—the smell of cum, and musk, and blood all magnified by a thousand. Between the overwhelmingly nauseating female scent and the blistering heat radiating from her core, there wasn't a chance in hell that you'd be able to hold onto the contents of your stomach. Even after vomiting, neither the smell nor the taste relented in their assault. The taste that flooded your taste buds every time you opened your mouth... the viscous fluids that never missed an opportunity to force their way down your throat... there were no words to adequately describe how repugnant the flavor of your sister's meat wallet was.
There was no light this far inside a person, and the only thing you could hear was the crackling of blood rushing through Annie's body like molten lava and, for a brief moment, a muffled rumbling noise. Each thump of her heart send more blood throughout her body, and you could feel the veins behind her throbbing through the mucus. You didn't know what Annie was doing outside; she could be reading, eating, or—and you certainly hoped your weren't inside of her for that—using the bathroom. When Annie sat down, you were praying for a miracle. When you felt your organs shift inside you and your body sink deeper into the mucous lining her inner walls as your sister stood back up, you knew that prayer had been unanswered.
Lungs weren't supposed to gurgle.
You remembered, vaguely, that after one minute without oxygen you begin to lose brain cells. How long had you been lost in Annie's cooch? Five minutes? Six? Time didn't seem to work the same way in here as it did outside; you felt your body shift and move as your sister walked, felt your brain grow foggy and unfocused, and even the smell and taste of the great abyss surrounding you began to dull. Still, you tried to struggle; to pull yourself free from Annie's honey trap. No matter what, you had to keep trying! No matter what...
After four minutes without oxygen you become brain damaged.
The feeling of G-Forces shifting your body, the heat radiating from your Sister's vag—those were the next to go. You couldn't think, couldn't concentrate; your lungs took long, slow breaths as they futility tried to undo the damage being done, to bring you back from the precipice of death. Would they ever find out what happened to you? If they did, how would your sister react? What would she do with the knowledge of how her brother passed away in her most intimate of areas without her so much as feeling a tickle? You weren't fighting anymore—you couldn't fight anymore. There really was no getting out of this, was there...?
After ten minutes without oxygen...
The blackness was gone... the sounds of her body? The groaning of muscle, the roar of her veins, and the subtle beating that could only be her heart? All but silenced. In the end, you were just a speck—a microscopic intruder stuck to the fluid that lined her walls. Your body was broken; your lungs, stomach, and skin were filled with the very same liquid that held you in place. And your sister, unaware that your last moments were spent lost between her legs, simply went about her day as normal.Your body was eventually purged from her depths as her vagina discharged the old fluids. No one ever found out what happened to you, never thinking to check the purged mucus lining of an 18 year old's pussy.
After eleven minutes without oxygen, you're able to let go...
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