Abigaille had tried to stay silent, perched on the edge of Kafka's thigh, her body tense with restraint as she watched the heated exchange between Olivia and her son unfold.
The sight of Olivia's fingers gliding over the veiny shaft, coupled with Kafka's teasing murmurs and the way he toyed with Olivia's breasts, sent a surge of molten need through Abigaille's pussy.
Her thighs clenched, her underwear dampening with a desperate ache that grew unbearable with every passing second. She couldn't just sit there, not when her body was screaming for release, her pussy throbbing with a hunger that felt like it might consume her.
Abigaille's voice broke the charged silence, a soft, pleading whimper as she leaned forward, her hands clutching Kafka's arm, her eyes shimmering with needy desperation.
