Next morning, Priya left home early telling her family she was going to collect fresh herbs and wild flowers from the edge of the village jungle for a special puja. The thick mango orchard and dense bushes near the forest were quiet and far from the main village paths. No one in the gaon suspected anything — she was still their masoom Priya, the girl with innocent eyes, soft voice, and modest clothes who never spoke boldly to any man.

But inside, Priya’s body was on fire. Her pussy throbbed with need, her heavy breasts felt sensitive against her blouse, and her mind craved the thrill of being taken roughly again. She wore a tight red saree that hugged her curves, pallu barely covering her deep cleavage.