The keys kept jingling. Amit’s cheerful voice came again, closer now, accompanied by the soft thud of a plastic bag against the door. “Bhaiyya? Priya? The lift is stuck between floors again. I climbed the stairs. Mausi packed extra laddoos and the new kurta-pyjama set she bought for you, Bhaiyya. Open up, na? It’s pouring.”

Inside the flat the air still smelled of sex—thick, musky, unmistakable. Priya stood naked against the dining table, her father’s cum slowly leaking down the inside of her thighs in warm, sticky trails. Her kurti and salwar lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Rajesh’s pyjamas were shoved down around his thighs, his cock still half-hard and glistening with their mixed fluids. The table surface behind her was smeared with wetness.