Ravi woke up at dawn to the sound of roosters crowing loud enough to wake the dead.
He rolled off his thin mattress, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and muttered:
"Alright… new life, new me. Farmer Ravi, let's go."
He stepped outside barefoot onto the cool wooden porch, stretching his arms high as the crisp morning air kissed his skin. Dew glistened on the grass, and the rich, loamy scent of fertile soil rose up to greet him. His tiny patch of farmland stretched out before him—dark earth ready to be worked, promising growth, promising life.
Nature accepted him.
But his stomach didn't.
GRRRRRM.
"…Okay. Breakfast comes first."
He pulled on a shirt and followed his nose toward the village center, drawn by a heavenly aroma drifting on the breeze—warm dough, melted butter, a faint trace of vanilla, and something deeper, softer… almost maternal. It wrapped around him like gentle fingers, pulling him forward until his mouth watered and his cock gave a lazy, half-awake twitch in his loose pants.
And then he saw it—
A small bakery with weathered wooden walls, a hand-painted sign swinging gently, morning glory vines curling possessively around the doorframe. Sunlight poured through the leaves in golden shafts, illuminating the entrance like a sacred altar.
Standing there, bending slightly to arrange a tray of freshly baked bread on the outdoor display, was Meera.
Her long brown hair was tied loosely in a low bun, a few silky strands escaping to frame her face and brush the nape of her neck. She wore a simple pale-yellow sundress that hugged her full, mature figure—heavy breasts straining softly against the thin cotton, nipples just visible as faint shadows when she moved, swaying with a natural, hypnotic weight. The fabric clung to the generous curve of her hips and the plump swell of her ass, outlining every lush inch as she shifted her weight from one thick thigh to the other.
Ravi forgot how to breathe. Heat flooded his groin instantly; his cock thickened against his thigh, pulsing at the sight of her.
Meera glanced up, soft brown eyes meeting his, and offered a warm, knowing smile that made his balls tighten.
"Oh? A new face. You must be the boy who bought Old Gopal's farm."
Boy.
He was 25, but the word from her full, glossy lips felt like a caress—affectionate, teasing, maternal in the most sinful way.
He nodded too quickly, voice cracking.
"Y-Yes! I'm Ravi! Just moved in yesterday!"
Meera tilted her head, amusement sparkling in her eyes as she took in his obvious nervousness—and the growing bulge he couldn't hide.
"Welcome to the village. I'm Meera. I run this bakery."
She lifted a warm bread roll from the tray, steam curling from its golden crust, and held it out to him. Her fingers brushed his as he took it—soft, warm, slightly flour-dusted skin that sent a jolt straight to his aching cock.
"Here. First-timer gets one free."
Ravi stared at the roll like it was a sacred offering, then at her cleavage as she leaned forward just a fraction more, the neckline of her dress dipping to reveal the deep valley between her heavy breasts, skin flushed and faintly dewy from the oven's heat.
"F-For me?!"
"Unless you planned to eat it on someone else's behalf," she chuckled, voice low and velvety, the sound vibrating through him like a promise.
He tore off a bite.
The bread melted on his tongue—buttery, soft, faintly sweet, with a warmth that spread through his chest and pooled hot and heavy in his groin. It felt like being enveloped, like her body pressing gently against his, like her scent—warm yeast, vanilla, and the subtle, intoxicating musk of a mature woman's skin—filling his lungs.
Ravi nearly groaned aloud.
"Meera-ji… this is the best thing I've ever had in my mouth."
The double meaning hung unspoken between them. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and her thighs pressed together almost imperceptibly beneath the dress, a tiny shift that made the fabric cling momentarily to the plump outline of her pussy.
"I'm glad," she murmured, voice a touch huskier. "If you ever need food… or help settling in… you can come here anytime, alright?"
Ravi nodded with the solemnity of a man swearing devotion, eyes dropping helplessly to the way her breasts rose and fell with each breath.
"Yes. Anytime. Every day. Maybe twice a day."
She laughed gently, the sound rich and throaty, sending another throb through his swollen cock.
"Don't worry, handsome… you won't bother me."
He was already hopelessly, aching in love.