Fashion Plate - Part 3

He's still at it, same old devil running his studio. Another day, another girl gets talked into stripping for the camera and spreading her legs. Pam listens to the other two laughing over her shoulder. They keep saying a threesome beats everything, and she nods, half-convinced, half-terrified. She feels the blush creep up her throat but ignores it, drops between soft open thighs and tastes another woman for the first time. Her tongue moves slowly at first, then steadier, driven by the small sounds the girl makes above her. The second woman settles behind Pam, hands sliding under her hips, guiding her up to her knees so she can reach her from behind. Pam moans into the wet heat against her mouth; the vibration pulls another gasp from the girl she is licking. Fingers press in, two, maybe three, working her open while a tongue circles her clit with slow, deliberate pressure. Pam's body answers before her mind can sort it out. She pushes back, grinds against that clever mouth, tongue diving deeper into the slick folds in front of her. The room fills with wet sounds, breath catching, the faint slap of skin. No one rescues her from it. They all chase the next crest together, bodies sliding, grinding, coming one after another in tight, shaking waves that leave them loose-limbed and glistening.