French kiss backstage - 2.

John Walton is behind the camera again, and the set feels charged. Aletta Ocean moves into the space, blonde hair still pinned for the take. The camera lingers while she loosens a button, slides a palm down her thigh, and tests the weight of her own breast. She smiles when Sandra steps behind her. Fingers trace the top of Aletta’s ass, slow and sure, until the zipper comes down and the fabric drops. Aletta bends at the waist, knees soft. Sandra’s tongue finds the tight ring of muscle, pressing, circling, opening her. When Zafira joins, she spreads Aletta wider, two fingers sliding in where the tongue left off. Aletta pushes back, breath shortening, hips rolling. Lulu watches from the edge of the light, one hand between her own legs, working herself in time with the rhythm on set. Aletta’s moan breaks, sudden and loud, as Zafira adds a third finger and Sandra’s mouth seals over her clit. Sweat beads on pale skin. The three women move like they have all night, but the camera only has a few minutes. Aletta comes once, quick and sharp, then again when Sandra’s tongue replaces Zafira’s hand and pushes deeper. Lulu’s own climax follows, quieter, legs trembling. The set stays quiet for a beat, then the director calls cut.