Manipulating Marlene: Part Eight
- Hamlin
- Jun 30
- 4 min read
Marlene hovered in the doorway, a half-step from running but frozen anyway, her body a sweat-slicked contradiction: shoulders hunched, head bowed, nipples hard enough to slice glass. Her hand was already in her shorts, because that’s where it always ended up now, like her cunt had grown a gravity well of its own and the rest of her followed.
