Yeah, I’m not thinking about that either.
I drop my robe and, naked now, do a quick inspection of my bikini area, making sure everything is nice and groomed before donning the white cotton panties that the director chose from the handful I brought as options. I pair it with a baby-blue tank top, no bra, then I pull my hair into two pigtails. “How do I look?”
Logan balances the camera on the edge of the sink, aiming it so that it will still catch us in the frame. “Come here,” he says, grabbing the hem of my tank to tug me to him. “You look so fucking hot, it’s killing me.” He presses my hand against his bulge to prove it.
Then he kisses me—sweetly but hungrily. It’s a short kiss, yet I’m flushed when he pulls away. He gives me a stupid grin. “Lick some ass.”
I want to ask if it bothers him that I’m about to get off with someone else. I want to ask if it bothers him that I let girls make me come. I want to ask if it will bother him when, later, Bruce Madden makes me come.
But I don’t, partly because he still doesn’t know about my scene this afternoon with Hagen’s studio, and partly—well, mostly—because I don’t want to hear that the long and the short answer to my questions are both “no.”
There’s lots of kissing in Lynne Femke’s lesbian porn. Though I do a variety of heat levels, Lynne’s tend to be the sweeter scenes.
“You’re just so curvy and soft,” the Swedish director told me once. “I could spend hours watching women touch you.”
So it’s no surprise when today Lynne’s direction calls for an extensive make-out session. “Lots of breast play, please. Then, Kendi, I want you to fuck Devi with your fingers.” She shows us the position she wants us to be in for the climax—literal climax—and then we’re ready to shoot.
Logan has his camera packed away now and is sitting by himself on a folding chair in the corner of the room. He wants to stay out of the way; as if I’ll forget he’s there if he’s farther from me.
I’m certain I won’t be able to forget. He’s the kind of guy that’s unforgettable.
But, to my surprise, I’m really not as distracted by him as I thought I’d be. He’s there, and I’m constantly aware of that, but I’m good at my job, good at focusing on the person in front of me.
Kendi’s a pro, too. We run quickly through the cheesy dialogue that sets up the scene—two college girls who have been assigned to be roommates. It’s our first night together in the dorm, and Kendi’s character, the returning student in the scenario, has taken it upon herself to teach my character how to…well, how to “get fucked by a girl.”
Admittedly, I’m not that great of an actress. If I were, I’d probably be performing in a completely different kind of film. My lack of skill doesn’t bother me—porn isn’t about acting. It’s about providing just enough visual and verbal cues to establish a fantasy and then genuinely focusing on the other person.
Figuring out how to turn someone on is like figuring out a math equation. How much of this will equal this? How many kisses before her breath gets shallow? How many flicks of my thumb over her nipple before it’s hard? How many strokes of her clit before her thighs start to tense?
Today, the math is easy because Kendi, in her role as teacher, is giving me all the answers. She’s telling me what feels good in words as well as body language. Naturally dominant, she’s good at this part, and I willingly submit, giving into the command of her soft lips and firm tongue invading my mouth. She tastes like mouthwash and the Skittles I saw her munching on before we started filming. Until she doesn’t. Until we’ve kissed so long, so deeply that our tastes have mingled and the only flavor in my mouth is want and pleasure.
We move through the steps of seduction organically, hands roaming over curves and slopes, under shirts, over cotton panties. Our clothes come off, and while I caress and grope the softest parts of her body, she makes love to my breasts, her tongue laving first one nipple then the other, turning them into sharp, rosy peaks.
I’m lost in delight. Before her fingers even find my clit, I’m wet and throbbing with need. Kendi’s a good lover, and I’m desperate for her to get me off. And, yes, I’d be into this no matter what, but I’m even more desperate for her because I know Logan is watching. Because I suspect that Logan is just as hot for this as I am.
If only I could watch him back…
But the cameras are on, and the story is just Kendi and me, so my eyes are pinned on her as her mouth roams lower and lower, as her tongue finds my most sensitive parts, as she brings me to delicious climax.
We shift positions, kissing for long moments before, at Lynne’s direction, Kendi turns me so my back is pressed up against her front. Her breasts push into my skin as she wraps herself around me so her hands can stroke my pussy. She swirls a fingertip across my clit, and when she slides her longest finger inside of me, I look up. I catch Logan’s eyes.
And the whole scene changes.
Logan is still as he watches, riveted, and the expression on his face is so wild and hot, so intense, so provocative, that I’m as transfixed as he is. I can’t look away. It’s Kendi who’s stroking me, Kendi who’s finger-fucking me to orgasm, but all I can see is Logan. All I can think is Logan. All I can feel is Logan, Logan, Logan.
Images of the night before come back to me, vivid and alive. “Your pussy is so good.” The memory of Logan’s raspy words fills my head. The way he looked so greedy and driven and starved as he shoved inside of me. “I’m going to come so hard for you, going to come so fucking hard…”