

Meet Kenna James—blonde hair, killer curves, USA grown and flown. She started out as your garden-variety, head-in-a-book, pencil-in-the-hair type. Still managed her first taste of other girls when she was nine or ten, the kind of kid who grinned at the checkout girl but didn’t know why. Once she figured it out, she spent a few quiet years quietly drooling over cheerleaders. At eighteen the library card got swapped for a thong, and stripping flipped a switch. Two years and a lot of late nights later she was nineteen, pretty enough to melt film stock, and at twenty she dove head-first into skin flicks. The chemistry she has with women? You could bottle it and sell it. Girlsway slapped the “Girl of the Month” sticker on her for April 2016, and she didn’t hold back: “Honored, honestly. The crew’s solid, the director Alan makes every angle pop, and I get to shoot scene after scene with girls who know exactly what they’re doing. Couldn’t ask for a better gig.”

Meet Kenna James—blonde hair, killer curves, USA grown and flown. She started out as your garden-variety, head-in-a-book, pencil-in-the-hair type. Still managed her first taste of other girls when she was nine or ten, the kind of kid who grinned at the checkout girl but didn’t know why. Once she figured it out, she spent a few quiet years quietly drooling over cheerleaders. At eighteen the library card got swapped for a thong, and stripping flipped a switch. Two years and a lot of late nights later she was nineteen, pretty enough to melt film stock, and at twenty she dove head-first into skin flicks. The chemistry she has with women? You could bottle it and sell it. Girlsway slapped the “Girl of the Month” sticker on her for April 2016, and she didn’t hold back: “Honored, honestly. The crew’s solid, the director Alan makes every angle pop, and I get to shoot scene after scene with girls who know exactly what they’re doing. Couldn’t ask for a better gig.”