Ishani's birthday arrived on a sun-kissed California morning, the ocean breeze whispering through the open villa windows like a lover's breath, carrying the salty tang of the sea mingled with the faint jasmine from the garden below. At 24, seven months pregnant, her body had blossomed into a masterpiece of sensual curves—the swell of her belly a warm, rounded prominence that shifted with every breath, her breasts fuller and heavier, nipples perpetually sensitive and darkened, aching for touch even in sleep; her hips wider, ass plumper, thighs softer yet toned, every movement a symphony of erotic grace that made her pussy throb with constant, low heat, slickness gathering between her folds from the pregnancy's relentless fire, her skin glowing with that maternal radiance that turned every glance from Virat into a promise of possession.