Two Grown Women

Two naked women lay tangled in bed, tongues slick and deep in a heavy kiss. They pulled back, breathing hard, whispering about a secret they shared. Someone yelled “Cut!”—India Summer and Jane Wilde, sweating under the lights for yet another Girlsway scene. India nodded thanks to her co-star, pulled on her robe, and stepped out—only to smack into Katie Morgan coming the other way. Katie’s robe hung open; her tits and that strip of tiny pink lace gave India an eyeful before they even started talking. India’s eyes tracked over the tight body she’d somehow missed until now. Katie caught the look, smirked, said “Come and get it,” like it was already decided. India didn’t hesitate—she told Katie she’d never had it before, not once, and right now she wanted to come get it. Katie’s teeth sank into her lower lip; she pulled India in. How had they never crossed paths before, she asked, voice low and teasing. India’s hand brushed down the inside of Katie’s robe. Too busy fucking teenagers, she said. Katie breathed in sharply, thumbing the knot of India’s sash. “Two grown women should fuck,” India murmured, letting the robe fall. Katie’s eyes darkened. “That’s all I want right now.” Crew was on lunch, Katie grinned; half an hour, no witnesses. They took off down the hall hand-in-hand, ducked into the small bathroom, and slammed the door behind them. Robes hit the floor. India pressed Katie against the sink, mouths wet again. Katie dropped her head, sucking India’s nipples hard, teeth grazing. India pushed her forward over the edge of the tub, yanked the thong down, spread her open. Katie threw one foot over the porcelain as India’s fingers found her clit, rubbed, then slapped—quick, loud—and Katie choked out a scream, thighs shaking. They weren’t stopping. They had twenty minutes left and every reason to keep going.