Priya lounged on her bed in the spacious bedroom of her family's two-story home in the bustling suburbs of Mumbai. At 22, she was a firecracker of a woman, her lithe body curving in all the right places—full breasts straining against her tight tank top, a narrow waist flaring into wide hips, and long, dark hair cascading down her back. Her family had left that morning for a week-long trip to visit relatives in Pune, leaving her alone with just the household servant, Raj. Priya's mind buzzed with forbidden thoughts; she was obsessed with sex, craving the rush of skin on skin, the stretch and fill of a hard cock inside her. Days without release had her pussy aching, slick with need even now as she scrolled through her phone.

Raj, a sturdy 35-year-old man with a muscular build from years of manual labor, was in the kitchen wiping down counters. He had worked for Priya's family for a decade, always polite and discreet, his dark eyes occasionally lingering on Priya's form when he thought no one noticed. The market was a good 45-minute auto-rickshaw ride away, far enough to buy her time.