The train clawed its way out of Parel station, metal wheels screaming against the rails like they were in pain. The compartment had become a living, breathing sauna of bodies—every inch of space claimed, every breath shared. Priya’s body was slick with everything: sweat, piss remnants, multiple loads of cum leaking from her overstuffed cunt, spit from endless mouths on her tits. Her salwar pants sagged around her knees now, panty long since ripped aside and lost somewhere in the crowd. The kameez remained bunched high like a torn banner, leaving her heavy boobs completely bare—swaying, bouncing, red and swollen from constant abuse.

Rohan’s cock had hardened again inside her during the last fingering of her ass. He stayed buried—thick, pulsing, stirring the filthy soup every time the train rocked. But now he had a new plan.