Raghu, the village milkman, had the kind of look that warned people off—a broad, weather-beaten face with a thick, unshaven stubble that clung like the grime he never fully washed away. His lips were quick to curl into a sneer, and his dark, sharp eyes always darted shamelessly to whatever caught his attention, lingering on the shapes of women with no regard for decency. Every morning, he’d come rattling down the dust-beaten path on his old bicycle, milk cans clanking, as he made his daily rounds, feeling himself the true judge of the sights around him.Aisha Khan, the imam’s wife, was a sight no one in the village could ignore—least of all Raghu. Younger than her husband by decades, she had a body that stirred whispers behind closed doors. Her skin was a deep, earthy shade, always smooth and glowing as if the sun itself adored her. Full hips that swayed when she walked, her waist curving in like it was shaped by some sinful hand. Her breasts were heavy, almost straining against the fabric of her modest clothes. To Raghu, they were nothing less than jugs filled to the brim, and he’d often smirk at his own crude jokes when he thought of it.Aisha’s mornings started early, sweeping the yard, her shapely arms moving gracefully, her loose sleeves slipping up just enough to reveal her wrists, her fingers delicate as she worked but strong, catching his attention whenever he could glimpse her through the doorway. And when she’d bend over to scrub or pick something up, Raghu’s mouth would practically water, his eyes roaming over that round ass hugged by her clothing, imagining what she kept hidden underneath those layers.He knew she was out of reach, married to the holy man, but that didn’t stop his mind.One humid morning, Raghu’s rounds brought him to the side of Aisha’s home just as he noticed a faint sound of splashing water from inside. A narrow, cracked vent above the bathroom wall caught his eye, and before he knew it, he found himself tiptoeing closer, peering in with the kind of hunger that made his pulse throb hot and heavy in his veins.Through the dim, dappled light in the bathroom, he could see Aisha standing there, her dark hair unbound, cascading down her back in wet, thick strands. She lifted the small metal mug from the bucket of water, pouring it over herself, letting the coolness trickle down her skin. Raghu’s mouth dried up as he took in her naked body for the first time, inch by inch, an offering right before his greedy eyes.Her breasts were round and full, hanging heavy, each dark nipple hard from the touch of the cold water, beaded with droplets that glistened against her chest. The curves he had only dreamed of seeing were now in full view, her belly soft and inviting, a small dip just below her navel drawing his gaze lower. Her thighs were thick, shapely, and as she moved, her ass cheeks swayed, plush and firm. Raghu could only imagine grabbing handfuls of that flesh, feeling it yield to his fingers.Unable to resist, Raghu’s hand slipped down to his trousers, fumbling with the waistband until he freed his cock. It sprang out, already hard and thick, dark veins pulsing along its length as he wrapped his rough fingers around it. He had always been proud of his size, and now he stroked himself with a tight, ruthless grip, every pump making his cock swell thicker as he imagined himself between those thighs, sliding up against her soaked, warm skin.He grunted low, trying to keep quiet, his eyes locked on her as she poured more water, letting it run between her breasts, over her belly, pooling at her feet. Aisha’s hands trailed down her own body, washing herself slowly, oblivious to the pair of eyes drinking her in like this was the last sight he’d ever see.Raghu’s strokes quickened, his hand slick with his own anticipation, as he imagined her lips parted, her dark eyes locked on his, begging him to take her like the sinful, hungry man he was. His hips jerked against his own hand as he watched her lift her leg to scrub her thigh, her whole body bending in ways that sent shivers through his cock.Finally, with one last rough squeeze, Raghu’s breath hitched as he came, his thick release spilling over his hand, hot and messy, as he stood there panting against the wall, eyes still fixed on Aisha’s glistening form through that narrow vent.As Raghu watched her, filthy thoughts rolled through his mind, each darker than the last. He wasn’t thinking like some lovesick fool, no; he wanted to ruin her, use every inch of that soft, holy flesh until she forgot who her husband even was.Those heavy tits were the first thing that filled his mind. He imagined yanking her close, shoving her tight against the wall and letting his rough hands maul them, squeezing, pulling, his fingers digging in, leaving marks that would remind her who had touched her. He wanted to suck those dark, stiff nipples until she gasped, leaving her raw, knowing she’d feel every tug long after he was gone.And that ass—round, firm, practically begging to be slapped red. He thought of bending her over the nearest surface, spreading those cheeks wide, exposing her in ways that’d make her blush for a lifetime. His calloused hands would grip tight, spreading her apart so he could see every private, forbidden inch, the kind of sight he’d keep in his mind to fuel his nights alone.Then there was that soft, untouched mound between her thighs. He wanted to push her legs apart, make her beg, make her feel the kind of rough hunger she’d never know with that gentle husband of hers. Raghu saw himself burying his face between her legs, rough stubble grazing her delicate skin as he feasted on her, licking her until she squirmed, tasted of sin, heard his name on her lips in a way no one else ever would. He wanted her gasping, grabbing his hair, giving in to the kind of filthy need she’d never dare to admit out loud.Every inch of her would know his hands, his teeth, his cock
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