Lakshmi stood in the quiet kitchen of her modest village home, the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. Her husband had been gone for weeks, working in the distant city, leaving her alone with her father-in-law, Dilip. The absence gnawed at her, a constant ache between her thighs that no amount of self-touching could satisfy. She was a sex addict at heart, her body craving the rough thrust of a cock, the slap of skin on skin. And she knew Dilip was the same—everyone in the village whispered about it. The old man, in his late fifties, with a thick mustache and a body still hardened by farm work, snuck out every evening to pay whores for a quick fuck. Lakshmi had seen the signs: the extra cash he hid, the way he returned disheveled and satisfied. It drove her wild. Why waste money on strangers when she was right here, her pussy dripping at the thought of him?