Old Cunt, Young Pussy

Kitty and Katherin pressed their cunts together, bare flesh meeting bare flesh. They’d only met minutes earlier under the lights, yet the heat between them felt practiced, inevitable. Their hips rolled, labia dragging soft and wet against one another. The camera existed, but they’d already left it behind. Every breath was short, every grind deliberate. Slickness gathered, pooled, ran down the slope of an ass onto rumpled sheets. One sighed the other’s name; the other answered with a deeper roll of her pelvis. Their clits nudged past one another—once, twice—until the rhythm caught and held. The air thickened with the smell of shared arousal, sharp and sweet. Forgotten were the room, the eyes, the lens. Nothing mattered but the hot, steady slide of two swollen cunts seeking more friction, more give, more of the slick, wordless pleasure spiraling up from that point of contact.