Backstage with Cindi and Angie

She sat for the camera again that afternoon, legs open, skin tight with afternoon light. Cindi worked slow with her hips, grinding the chair until her clit dragged against the seam of her skirt. The lens caught the tiny pulse between her legs. Then she slid two fingers between her lips and pulled them apart, showing the wet inside, soft and flushed like warm fruit split open. Angie’s big tits sat heavy on her ribs, the pale skin trembling each time Cindi made her come on those fingers. Everyone watched her fold up after, mouth open, breasts rising fast with every breath she had left.