Sharing a moment backstage

The last set ended and they slipped into the lounge wearing nothing but the sheen of sweat and satin. One tugged lace aside; the other sank to her knees without asking. Tongues worked over swollen nipples and wet cunt in short, greedy flicks. Fingers slid inside—two, then three—curling against that trembling spot until thighs shook. Juice ran down wrists and stained the couch cushions. A quick bite to a tender clit made the other arch, come fast and hard, mouth wide around a stifled cry. They traded places, mouths still hungry, bodies slick and shining. Their laughter, low and filthy, filled the quiet room.