Ashtavakra's back was as twisted as his life of celibacy. At thirty-seven, the sage's only knowledge of pussy was from ancient scrolls. Tonight, he traded his robes for shame and cash, entering the neon-lit alley where Kali worked.

She was filth incarnate, and he craved it. Kali leaned against the brick, her tits spilling from a ripped top, nipples hard against the fabric. Her skirt was a suggestion. "Well, well," she purred, eyeing his hunched frame. "A virgin? I can smell it on you, sage-boy."

Her hand snaked out, palming the bulge in his simple trousers. Ashtavakra gasped. "This little dick's never seen action, huh?" she cooed, squeezing. "Gonna make it weep."

She led him to a stained mattress in a backroom. The air smelled of sweat and sex. Kali pushed him down, her fingers working his belt. "Let Auntie Kali ruin you," she whispered, pulling out his cock. It was stiff, leaking pre-cum already. "Aw, it's cute. Gonna wreck it."

She didn't undress. She hiked her skirt up, revealing no panties, just her shaved, glistening cunt. "Look at that pink," she growled, spreading her lips with two fingers. "Your virgin eyes ever seen a slit this wet?" Ashtavakra shook his head, mesmerized. Her pussy glistened under the bare bulb, folds swollen and inviting.

Kali spat into her hand, slicking his dick. "This is gonna hurt, sage." She mounted him in one brutal sink,