Let Me Take Your Soul

Alexa and Kate show up in their short little school uniforms—those flimsy skirts barely covering anything. Christina lets them into the studio and runs through the usual bullshit: check the lights, frame the shot, click. First frame looks fine. Second frame she pulls back the dark cloth and the lens shows the two girls face-deep in each other’s shaved cunts, tongues working like they want blood. She jerks upright. They’re still sitting the same way, knees together, polite smiles. She ducks again. Same filthy scene: Kate on her back, tiny toes in Alexa’s mouth, Alexa’s tongue buried, pussy glistening. They flip to scissors, hips rolling, wet lips slapping wet lips, slick and obscene. Kate climbs higher, grinds down on Alexa’s mouth until she shakes and comes, then spins around and they feast in a vicious sixty-nine, spit and juice shining on chins. Alexa plants her tight ass on Kate’s face, rocks until she creams all over the brunette’s tongue. The two kiss hard, hungry for the next round. Christina snaps another test shot—still pure sex—and finally tells them to leave. When they’re gone she sits where they sat, raises the camera, and the moment it fires the world rips sideways. She’s naked, pinned between their bodies, their mouths on her tits, their fingers already inside her, and she isn’t sure she ever wants out.