Backstage of a clubsandy.com shooting part II.

Two women study themselves in full-length mirrors, fingers trailing silk hems. Barbara selects a sheer dress the color of smoke; Mya settles on black lace that barely skims her hips. They move slowly, deliberate, testing how fabric will cling once things get wet. On the low table sit a bottle of thick lube and a small tray of metal toys they ignore for now. They bare their cunts side by side, legs apart, breathing steady as they slick their own folds open with quiet, wet sounds. Barbara slides two fingers into Mya first, twisting, listening to her catch her breath. Mya answers by opening Barbara the same way, their hands working between each other’s thighs in a slow, measured rhythm. The camera stays close. Knuckles sink deeper, then disappear. The room fills with soft, rhythmic sucking noises and low curses. It is almost tender. Almost polite. Each woman watches the other take it, eyes glassy, mouths parted, wanting more and giving it without hurry.