The Princess and the Porn Star

Kenna James stretches slow and low in her sunlit yard. Warrior pose. Tree pose. Then that deep, ass-up stretch, spine long, tits hanging under thin fabric. Her phone starts buzzing. Vienna Rose’s voice cuts through, smooth but tight. “I’m calling on behalf of Princess Kendra Maines.” Kenna blinks. Doesn’t know the royal. Turns out the princess knows her very well—porn name, rankings, every inch of her body, you name it. The issue? Their names are close enough to trip people up, and the princess wants Kenna to ditch hers. Kenna laughs hard. “I’m Kenna fucking James. Girlsway runner-up, face everybody remembers. I’m not folding for some rumor.” Vienna promises she’ll fly in to talk sense into her. They meet in the bedroom. Big bed, heavier air. Vienna sits ramrod straight, knees together. Kenna sinks onto the mattress beside her, shirt riding up. “You traveled all this way,” she says, “and I’m still not switching a goddamn thing.” Vienna pushes: the princess can’t be embarrassed, can’t be mixed up with porn. The passion in her voice is so raw Kenna tilts her head. “You got a thing for her?” “No,” Vienna shoots back—too fast. Likes men, never thought of the princess that way. Kenna slides closer. Their knees touch. “Bullshit. I saw how you stare at me. Same body. Same energy. You’re picturing her right now.” Vienna swallows. “Features are… similar.” Her gaze slips down Kenna’s tight stomach, lingers on the hard peaks under cotton. Kenna smiles like she’s holding a loaded gun. “Change my name if I want proof. Let me see what’s under that dress.” Vienna shakes her head, but Kenna leans in, fingertips skating up her thigh. “Pretend I’m her.” She brushes the soft hair from Vienna’s neck, kisses the skin there, tongue dragging slow behind it. Vienna shivers, dress suddenly feeling two sizes too small. “I’ve never…” she whispers. Kenna hooks the straps, pulls the fabric down. Two perfect tits spill out—pink and pierced. “I’ll show you,” Kenna murmurs. Vienna closes her eyes. The rest of the dress drops. Kenna’s hands explore like she owns royalty now, thumbs flicking those hard little barbells, tongue tracing wet circles until Vienna gasps. She melts back, legs parting. Kenna smirks against her skin. “You’re the one getting worshipped, princess.”