The next morning, Ravi woke up with one thought burning in his mind—and throbbing insistently between his legs:
"I need that bread again."
Not just the bread, of course.
He needed the warm smile that came with it.
The gentle, husky voice that made his cock twitch.
The way Meera tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear when she laughed, exposing the soft curve of her neck and the faint sheen of sweat that gathered there in the bakery's heat.
He needed to watch her heavy breasts shift under that thin sundress again, to imagine the weight of them in his palms, the stiff nipples dragging across his tongue.
Ravi shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the fantasy of spreading her thick thighs on the flour-dusted counter and burying his face in her slick, pink pussy until she dripped down his chin.
"Focus! You're a farmer now. You're here for agriculture, not… admiration of mature women."
Five minutes later he was speed-walking toward the bakery, cock already half-hard in his pants from the memory of her scent alone.
🍞 Morning Visit
The bakery doorbell jingled softly as he stepped inside, the rich aroma of fresh dough and melted butter enveloping him like a lover's embrace—warm, sweet, intoxicating, laced with Meera's own subtle musk that made his mouth water and his balls ache.
Meera turned from the oven, flour lightly dusting her flushed cheeks, and her eyes lit up with delighted surprise.
"Oh? Back again so soon?"
Her voice was low, velvety, and it slid straight down his spine to his groin.
"I—I wanted breakfast!"
He cleared his throat, shifting to hide the growing bulge straining against his trousers.
"…And to support local business."
Meera laughed softly, the sound throaty and warm, her full breasts jiggling gently with the motion, nipples pressing visibly against the thin fabric of her dress.
"Well, that's very kind."
She handed him another steaming roll, her fingers lingering a fraction longer against his this time, soft and warm, sending a bolt of heat to his swollen cock.
Ravi paid with exact coins, trying not to stare as she leaned over the counter, the neckline dipping to reveal the deep, creamy valley between her heavy breasts, skin glistening faintly from the oven's warmth.
Meera raised a brow, amused.
"You counted it perfectly. Farmers usually pay in whatever handful of coins they find in their pocket."
Ravi puffed out his chest, desperate to impress.
"I trained my whole life for RPG inventory management."
She blinked.
"For what?"
"…Nothing. Never mind."
🌾 A Small Request
As Ravi devoured the roll—moaning softly at the buttery softness melting on his tongue—Meera hesitated, biting her plump lower lip in a way that made his cock leak a bead of precum into his underwear.
"Since you're new here… would you mind helping me with something later today?"
Ravi almost choked, fantasies flashing of bending her over the counter instead.
"YES—cough—yes—of course, anything!"
Meera smiled gently, her gaze drifting briefly to the obvious tent in his pants before returning to his eyes.
"It's just restocking flour. The sacks are heavy, and I usually manage alone, but… it would be nice to have strong hands today."
Strong hands.
Ravi's heart—and his throbbing erection—answered before his brain could.
"I'll be there! When do you want me?"
"After lunch is fine. I don't want to keep you from your new farm."
"My new farm can wait. Flour is more important."
She gave him a look—the kind older women give playful, eager boys—slow, knowing, and just a little teasing.
"Your priorities are a little strange, Ravi."
"They've never been better."
🌸 Afternoon – Helping Meera
Ravi arrived twenty minutes early and loitered behind a tree, cock aching from the constant replay of her body in his mind, until the exact minute struck.
When he stepped inside, the bakery was quieter, warmer. Meera had rolled up her sleeves, revealing soft, flour-dusted forearms, and tied her hair higher, exposing the delicate nape of her neck. A faint sheen of perspiration glowed on her skin; the sweet scent of vanilla, warm dough, and her own aroused fragrance hung thick in the air.
"You really came," she said softly, eyes tracing over his broad shoulders and down to where his pants strained again.
"You asked," Ravi answered simply, voice rough.
He hefted the first flour sack—fifty kilos of dead weight—and grunted as he lifted it, muscles burning, but he refused to falter under her gaze.
Meera watched him work, lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling faster. Each time he bent to grab another sack, his shirt clung to his back with sweat, and her gaze lingered on the flex of his arms, the bulge of his biceps, the unmistakable ridge of his hard cock pressing against his trousers.
She giggled when he nearly staggered.
"Careful! If you hurt yourself on the first day, the whole village will scold me."
Ravi forced a heroic grin even as his arms shook.
"Don't worry. I've carried heavier things."
"Like what?"
"…Life expectations."
She laughed so hard her breasts bounced, hand pressing to her chest as if to steady them, the motion only drawing his starving eyes lower.
✨ A Quiet Moment
After the last sack was stacked, Meera poured him a tall glass of cool lemonade, condensation beading on the sides like sweat on skin.
They sat by the open window, golden afternoon light spilling over them, dust motes dancing in the warm air.
Silence stretched—comfortable, charged, humming with unspoken want.
Meera finally spoke, voice softer than before.
"You know… it's been a long time since someone helped me without being asked twice."
Ravi looked at her closely. Beneath the gentle smile was a quiet weariness, a loneliness she wore like a faint shadow.
"Anytime you need help… I'm close by," he said quietly, meaning every word, his cock still half-hard from her nearness.
Meera's eyes softened, her full lips curving into a smile more tender, more intimate than any before. She reached out briefly, her fingers brushing his hand—warm, flour-dusted, electric.
"That's sweet of you, Ravi."
His heart—and every desperate inch of him—nearly melted.