The prasad had not yet dissolved on my tongue before I was already planning my next sin.
I walked through the rest of the afternoon in a haze of holy smoke and devar-flavored saliva, every movement of my saree against my bare, wet cunt a whispered reminder of what I had done, and what I had not yet received. Arjun had used my throat, filled my belly with his seed, and left me kneeling on that cushion with an emptiness between my legs that howled like a starving dog. The good bahu nodded and smiled and cleared the puja offerings. The scarlet whore inside me was already calculating how many hours until dinner, how many opportunities to brush against him, to feel that thick cock again, to finally get the friction my clit was screaming for.
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