Abigail Part 4

Abigail moves in close on the couch, her questions turning slower, quieter. Her hand brushes the bride-to-be’s knee and stays there. Kissa’s breath catches. Fingers slide higher, under the hem of her dress, until they meet the thick patch of dark hair between Kissa’s thighs. Abigail keeps talking, voice calm, as two fingers slip lower, find slick heat, and press inside without rush. Kissa spreads her legs wider on the cushions. Abigail’s other hand cups one of her own heavy breasts, thumb stroking the nipple through thin fabric while she watches Kissa’s face. She curls her fingers deeper, knuckle-deep, the slow drag pulling a wet sound from Kissa every time she draws back. Kissa’s hips rock to meet each push. Abigail leans in, lips brushing Kissa’s ear, still working those fingers in steady rhythm until Kissa’s thighs start to shake and her moans come out low and helpless.