Margot grimaced at a long strand of black hair, having pulled it from Jack’s boxer shorts as she hung them on the clothesline. She hoped to God that it was Alina’s and not Sophie’s hair that she was holding. It dropped, disappearing in the dew-soaked grass. As she put the rest of Jack and Roland’s clothes out, she found a black, lace G-string. It was So…
© 2024 Zoe Harrington
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