Ananya did not move.

Her palms stayed flat against the cool, dusty stone wall. Her legs remained spread. Her back stayed arched. The position forced her chest forward and her ass out, leaving both of her used holes completely exposed to the still air of the old storage chamber. Time stretched in the narrow shaft of morning light that fell across the floor. She did not know how long he had been gone. Ten minutes. Twenty. Longer. The ache in her shoulders deepened. The strain in her thighs grew sharper. A slow, thick trickle of her father’s cum continued to slip from her open ass and run down the inside of one thigh, cooling as it went. Another thinner seep leaked from her cunt. She felt every drop leave her. She did not close her legs. She did not wipe anything away.