A Journey Through marc marcum

Between floors, the elevator halts in marc marcum. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, marc marcum,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “marc marcum, watch marc marcum come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “marc marcum, faster, marc marcum!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “marc marcum, marc marcum, fuck, marc marcum!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”