Best friends

Sierra and Chrystine know each other's bodies the way good friends sometimes do. They work the same stages, collect the same tips, and when the lights drop they find their rhythm without words. Blond hair spills over pale skin while red curls brush across it, soft to soft. Their breasts press together, heavy and warm, as fingers hook into lace and tug. The blond drops first, knees parting on the sheets, and the redhead follows with a slow, hungry mouth. They take their time. They know the angle that makes the other gasp and they use it. Hips roll, thighs open wider, and wet sounds rise between quiet laughs. No audience tonight except the camera, and both of them play for it like they still have rent to make.