Treat The Wife

Abigail runs the warm water over Ryan's shoulders, guiding her under the spray. The spray turns to rivulets, sliding down Ryan's full breasts, past her navel, between her legs. Ryan crosses her arms at first, hesitating, but Abigail stands close—naked, sure of herself—and takes Ryan's hands, moving them aside. In the shallow tub she sits behind Ryan, pours warm gel across her back, then down her stomach. Her fingers glide where the gel clings, touching breasts, pulling soft moans from Ryan every time her thumbs graze nipples. Water sloshes as Abigail reaches lower, easing Ryan’s thighs apart. Ryan tries to speak, but Abigail’s mouth meets the inside of her knee, then moves higher. Fingers trace Ryan's cunt lips—swollen now, already slick with more than water. Abigail lifts her hips, presses her body flush, and the gel squishes warm between them. Every slow grind sends a fresh rush of heat through Ryan. Abigail turns her onto her back along the cushioned mat. She pours more gel over Ryan’s belly, smears it between her labia, then sinks two fingers deep. Ryan gasps, eyes wide, but her hips roll upward, chasing each thrust. Abigail licks across her throat, down between her breasts, sucking the soft flesh as her fingers curl. Ryan starts to tremble. Abigail angles her wrist and rubs her clit with the heel of her palm, drawing tighter, faster circles until Ryan clamps her thighs, cries out, and comes, shaking, the sound thick and raw in the small room.