Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Bhola lingered nearby. 
“Bhabhi… chai bana doon?”
(“Bhabhi… should I make tea?”)
 
Simran shook her head, standing. The nightie shifted with her—hem brushing her thighs, breasts swaying freely beneath the cotton. 
 
“Nahi… ruk. Main bana leti hoon.”
("No... wait. I'll make it.")
 
Bhola didn’t insist—he stepped back, watching quietly. He believed movement, normal tasks, would ground her, make her feel in control again.
 
Simran walked to the kitchen—bare feet soft on the floor. The rain sang its endless song outside, thunder rumbling low, the house wrapped in wet, electric quiet.
 
She didn’t know how to start the conversation.
 
But something told her it would start itself.
 
Simran stood at the kitchen counter. She reached for the kettle, filling it with water, then set out two steel glasses—deciding to make tea for both herself and Bhola. The simple act grounded her, a return to normalcy after the afternoon’s chaos.
 
Bhola appeared in the doorway, clothes bundle from earlier still in his arms.
 
“Bhabhi… main upar se kapde le aata hoon.”
(“Bhabhi… I will bring the clothes from upstairs.”)
 
Before Simran could respond—could say “Wait” or “No need”—he turned and headed upstairs, footsteps quick and purposeful.
 
She shrugged inwardly, continuing with the tea—adding crushed ginger, cardamom, tea leaves, letting it boil slowly, the warm, spicy aroma filling the kitchen and chasing away the lingering scent of milk and arousal.
 
Bhola returned minutes later, the soaked nightie and undergarments from earlier now bundled with fresh ones. Simran had just finished straining the tea—two glasses steaming on the counter.
 
But as he placed the bundle in the laundry basket nearby, his eyes caught it—the black lace panties from the bedroom floor, still drenched, heavy with her juices. He lifted them carefully—meant to sort the laundry—but paused. The aroma hit him: not the usual faint musk of daily wear, but something richer, headier—sweet, creamy, mixed with the unmistakable tang of deep arousal. For the first time, it wasn’t just laundry. It was… intoxicating. Something awesome, primal, a scent that made his breath catch, his cock twitch involuntarily in his pants. He brought it closer—subtle, hidden behind the bundle—and inhaled quietly, deeply.
 
Yeh… aaj alag hai. Bahut… alag hai.
 
He wanted to keep sniffing, bury his face in it, memorize it.
 
He controlled himself—barely—face warming, folding the panties quickly into the basket before she noticed.
 
He couldn’t find a bra upstairs again—assuming she was wearing one under the nightie, not thinking much of it—and brought down the discarded pump he’d spotted on the floor, holding it carefully like contraband.
 
Simran turned as he entered, smiling softly—two glasses of tea ready. 
 
“Chai taiyar hai.”
(Tea is ready.)
 
Bhola nodded, setting the pump aside out of her sight for now. 
“Ji, Bhabhi.”
 
The house smelled of rain and ginger tea, the storm outside finally easing into a steady patter.
 
Bhola stood near the sofa, holding the manual breast pump in one hand—the one she’d left upstairs—like it was something fragile and dangerous. His expression was serious, almost protective.
 
Simran paused at the bottom step, heart skipping. There it was—the opening she’d been searching for.
 
“Bhola… yeh kyun laaye ho?” she asked, voice light but curious.
(“Bhola… why have you brought this?”)
 
Bhola looked up immediately. 
“Bhabhi… ise kabhi mat use kijiye. Phenk dijiye.”
("Bhabhi... never use this. Throw it away.")
 
Simran tilted her head, stepping closer. Finally—the cue to talk. 

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Kyun? Kya hoga isse? Tumne bataya hi nahi.”
("Why? What will happen with this? You didn't even tell me.")
 
Bhola set the pump down carefully on the table, voice low and earnest. 
 
“Agar main aaj nahi hota toh bahut dikkat hoti aapko. Aur upar se… yeh aapke nipples…”
("If I weren't here today, you would have a lot of trouble. And on top of that... these nipples of yours...")
 
He stammered, cheeks darkening.
 
“Nipples ko bahut chot pahunchata hai.”
(“This pump hurts the nipples a lot.”)
 
Simran felt the truth of it settle in her chest—the pain, the swelling, the terror of being stuck. She nodded slowly. 
 
“tumhe bahot pata hai inke bare mein”
(“You know a lot about these things…”)
 
Bhola met her eyes, no shame, only quiet knowledge. 
“Haan, Bhabhi. Maine gaayon ko bahut doodh nikala hai. Roz.”
 
Simran stopped him with a soft laugh—playful, teasing, to ease the tension. 
 
“Toh kya… main gaay hoon?”
(“So what… I am a cow?”)
 
Bhola’s eyes widened in panic.
 
“Nahi nahi, Bhabhi! Mera matlab woh nahi tha!”
("No, no, Bhabhi! That's not what I meant!")
 
She smiled, waving it off. 
 
“Theek hai… batao na. Kya matlab tha?”
("Okay... tell me. What did you mean?")
 
Bhola exhaled, relieved. 
 
“Bhabhi… meri Komal Bhabhi ne bataya. Jis tarah gaay ko machine se doodh nikalte hain toh doodh kam aata hai, aur haath se zyada nikaltaa hai… usi tarah breast pump use nahi karna chahiye. Kuchh auratein aayi thi unke paas advice ke liye—pregnancy problems, doodh ke liye—main wahaan tha, toh unhone samjhaya.”
 
("Bhabhi... my sister-in-law Komal told me. Just like a cow produces less milk when milked by a machine, and more by hand... similarly, one shouldn't use a breast pump. Some women came to her for advice—pregnancy problems, milk—I was there, so she explained.")
 
He paused, voice softer. 
 
“Hamare ghar mein… yeh sab peedhi dar peedhi se hota aya hai. Pregnancy issues, doodh ki problems—auratein door se aati hain. Mere Baba bahut madad karte hain. Meri Maa ko bahut knowledge thi… par woh ab nahi hain. Ab Komal Bhabhi sab manage karti hain—dawaaiyan, ilaaj.”
 
(“In our house… it has been happening from generations. Pregnancy issues, milk problems—women come from far away. My father helps a lot. My mother was very knowledgeable… but she is not there anymore. Now Komal Bhabhi manages everything—medicines, treatments.”)
 
Simran listened, curiosity deepening—the village secrets, the family tradition, the quiet expertise passed down like heirlooms.
 
Simran sat across from Bhola at the small kitchen table, the two glasses of ginger tea steaming between them. She wrapped her hands around the warm glass, the nightie’s thin straps slipping slightly on her shoulders, the cotton clinging to the faint damp patches over her breasts where milk continued its slow, stubborn movement. Her thighs pressed together under the table, the fresh black lace panties already damp again from the lingering heat of the evening talk.
 
She looked at him—really looked—his calm face, the imaginary faint milk moustache still glistening on his upper lip from earlier. The absurdity almost made her smile, but the question burned too hot.
 
“To main ab kya karu? Mujhmein bahot doodh ban raha hai…mujhe kasie aaram milega?”
(“So… what should I do?” she asked quietly. “I’m producing a lot more now. How do I… get relieved?”)

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Bhola set his glass down carefully.
 
“Bhabhi… agar aap pump use karti rahengi, toh skin kharab ho jayegi—nipples ki, boobs ki. Aur to aur iski aadat pad jayegi. Phir agar atak gaya dobara… bahut dangerous ho sakta hai.”
 
("Bhabhi... if you keep using the pump, your skin will get damaged—near your nipples, your breasts. And you'll get used to it. And if it gets stuck again... it can be very dangerous.")
 
Simran nodded slowly, remembering the pain, the panic.
“To batao mujhe….tumhari Bhabhi unko auroton ko kya bolti hai? Jo unke paas jate hai?”
“Then tell me—what does your Bhabhi tell those women to do? The ones who come to you?”)
 
Bhola hesitated—eyes dropping to his tea, then back to her face. 
 
“Woh… jo maine kiya tha aaj—wohi karne ko kehti hain. Doodh nikalne ke liye. Zyadatar… husbands karte hain.”
("She… she asks them to do the same thing I did today. To release milk. Mostly… husbands do it.")
 
Simran’s brows lifted. 
“Zyadatar? Matlab?”
 
Bhola shifted, voice softer. 
 
“Bhabhi… yeh thoda complex hai…”
 
Simran cut him off gently, smiling despite herself.
 
“Okay, no more complex stories. Chai pi lo.”
 
 
Bhola nodded, picking up his glass. They drank in silence—warm, spicy tea sliding down their throats, the only sound the rain and the occasional clink of glass on table. Both wanted the same thing: a solution. But neither knew how to say it aloud.
 
Simran spoke first, voice barely above the rain. 
Aur batao—ab kya karun?”
 
Bhola met her eyes—steady, earnest. 
“Haan, Bhabhi. Sahib ko boliye. Woh aapki help kar sakte hain.”
("Yes, Bhabhi. Tell Sahib. He can help you.")
 
Simran’s heart stuttered—shock rippling through her.
 
Ravi?
 
She thought of last night—his mouth on her nipple, eager at first, then pulling away, the bitterness making him wince.
 
He couldn’t…
 
She looked at Bhola—curious now. He didn’t seem like the type to gag. He’d drunk her milk like it was nectar.
 
She leaned forward slightly.
 
“Bhola… sach sach batao. Tumhe… mera doodh peete hue kaisa laga? Taste… weird tha kya?”
("Bhola... tell me frankly. How did you... drink my milk? Was it taste... weird?")
 
Simran was shocked at her own blasphemy in talking so openly with Bhola.
 
Bhola’s cheeks darkened, but he didn’t look away. 
 
“Nahi, Bhabhi… bilkul nahi. Woh… bahut sweet tha. Jaise… bachche itna kyun peete hain, samajh aaya. Ekdam sahi meethapan tha…na zyada, na kam.”
("No, Bhabhi... not at all. It was... very sweet. Like... I understand why babies drink so much. Perfectly sweet—not too much, just right.")
 
Simran blinked—confused, a strange warmth spreading through her.
 
Sweet? Ravi had said bitter. Preeti had mentioned it happens to some men—hormonal changes, taste variation.
 
But Bhola… he’d liked it. Craved it, even.
 
She forced a small laugh. 
 
Bhola said
 
“Please… Sahib ko bolo. Main sure hoon unhe pasand aayega.”
("Please... tell Sahib. I'm Sure, he'll like it.")
 
Simran exhaled slowly, staring into her tea. 

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Nahi, Bhola… Sahib ne try kiya tha. Ek baar. But unhe taste mein problem hui. Preeti ne bataya—kuchh logon ko aisa hota hai.”
("No, Bhola... Sahib tried it. Once. But he had trouble tasting it. Preeti told me it happens to some people.")
 
She looked up—eyes vulnerable, question hanging unspoken.
 
“Now what?”
 
Bhola’s voice drifted from the kitchen, casual but curious. 
 
“Waise, Bhabhi… aap itne dino se aapke chuchiyon se doodh kaise nikaal rahi thi?”
(“By the way, Bhabhi… how were you extracting milk from your breasts for so many days?”)
 
Simran’s cheeks flamed instantly. She turned toward the doorway, voice soft but firm. 
 
“Bhola… chuchiyan nahi. Boobs bolo.”
 
Bhola appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands, face darkening with embarrassment. 
 
“Yes yes, Bhabhi… boobs. Mera matlab wohi tha.”
 
Simran didn’t answer—couldn’t. The question hung there, too intimate, too raw. She looked away, fingers twisting the nightie hem.
 
Bhola finished his work quietly, then pulled a low stool closer and sat beside the sofa—close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body, far enough to keep respect.
 
He looked at her gently. 
 
“Bataiye, Bhabhi… abhi kya karein?”
 
Simran exhaled shakily, one hand pressing lightly over her chest where the fullness throbbed again. 
 
“It’s… getting full again.”
 
Bhola nodded—no surprise, no hesitation. 
 
“No problem, Bhabhi. Let me help you then.”
 
The words were simple, offered like help with dishes or laundry. But the sofa was single-seater—narrow, intimate. Bhola shifted, kneeling on the floor in front of her so his face was level with her chest, hands resting on his thighs.
 
Simran looked like vulnerability made flesh.
 
She sat curled slightly forward, the ivory silk nightie clinging to her curves—thin straps barely holding, neckline low enough to frame the deep, creamy valley between her heavy breasts. The fabric was damp in patches, translucent over the swollen globes, outlining the dark areolas and stiff nipples beneath. Her milky-white thighs pressed together under the hem, lace panties hidden but their dampness felt with every shift. Hair loose and glossy down her back, face flushed rose, large eyes wide with shyness and need—lips parted, breath shallow. She was glowing, fertile, every inch radiating the quiet desperation of a body that had awakened and refused to quiet.
 
She slid one strap down slowly—then the other—nightie pooling at her waist. One arm crossed over both breasts, trying to cover the leaking nipples, but the globes were too full, too heavy—spilling softly over her forearm, milk already beading and dripping down the inner curves.
 
Although Bhola had suckled her hours ago in urgency, this was different—voluntary, deliberate, chosen. Shame burned through her; she was dying inside, face crimson and eyes averted.
 
Her breasts—those magnificent, mango-shaped wonders—were so juicy, so big, they overflowed her arm completely. The soft flesh bulged above and below, nipples barely hidden by her trembling fingers, milk leaking steadily despite her efforts.
 
Bhola waited—patient, voice soft. 
 
“Bhabhi…”
 
Simran understood. She had to open her arms. Let him.
 
But it was harder than anything—shame, desire, need warring inside her.
 
She stayed frozen—arm clutched tight, tears threatening again—unable to move, unable to speak.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Simran's breath caught in her throat as she slowly lowered her arm, fingers uncurling from their protective grip, letting both hands fall limply into her lap where the gathered nightie pooled like forgotten silk. She was topless once more, her magnificent breasts fully exposed in the dim, storm-filtered light of the room—those mango-shaped wonders that defied earthly comparison, not mere export quality but something divine, heavenly, as if crafted by gods for temptation alone. Each breast was a masterpiece of lush fullness: the left one, slightly heavier from its recent flow, hung with a gentle pendulous sway, skin stretched taut and luminous like polished cream, veins faintly blue beneath the surface mapping rivers of life.

The areola was wide and dusky rose—textured with tiny Montgomery glands that puckered in the cool air, framing a protruding nipple that stood thick and erect like a ripe berry, dark pink and glistening with a fresh bead of milk that trembled at the tip, ready to drip. The right breast mirrored it almost perfectly—symmetrical in its ripe perfection, though still tender from the day's ordeal, the areola flushed a deeper shade from the earlier suction, nipple jutting forward boldly, swollen and sensitive, a single droplet of milk already trailing down the curved underside. They stood—defied gravity, really—with an impossible firmness for their size, pointing outward proudly like twin invitations, the deep valley between them shadowed and hypnotic, drawing the eye inexorably downward in a spell that could ensnare any soul.

A person gazing upon them would be lost—hypnotized by the soft, rhythmic sway with every breath, the way light caught the creamy skin, the subtle pulse of veins, the slow, teasing drip of milk that promised nourishment and sin in equal measure, pulling the viewer into a trance where time slowed and desire reigned supreme. And Bhola—poor, lucky Bhola—was invited to free access to them, such was his fate, a simple village boy granted the keys to paradise without earning or asking. Yet he unfortunately didn't register their transcendent beauty—didn't see the heavenly artistry, the hypnotic allure that could fell kings—only her need: the pain in her eyes, the fullness begging relief, his focus pure duty, blind to the erotic masterpiece inches from his face.

To be continued… :)

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Please let me know how you guys found the update.

[masud93]

I haven't read the whole update yet,wish it be super duper erotic Between bhola +simran,,,,i think more update about them two, will be more exited,,
Aur ek baat,,in dono ke beech mein bhola ke bhabhi ko lekar aajaye to aur bhi aayega,lagta hai future mein aisa hai hoga,aap ne mention kya hai bhola ke jariya,,
Aur village ke sex life ke baare mein, mera yeh khahish hai ke simra aur OPEN ho,,

[masud93]

Pic aur bhi dete rehna

[masud93]

Bhola ja AGE kitna hoga,uska LUND ka kya khabar,, lund to pussy se takkar hona chahiye,,,aur boobs ko squeeze kare jor se se ayenda,,simran ka sex ka ka mann kare,,,aur body part ke bare mein open baat kare,,,

[masud93]

Aap ke uss update se pata chalta hai,ke BREAST FEEDING itni hot erotic ho sakti hai,,,ek aur baat, ab to HONEY &TEL
lagake MALISH karna baki hai,,waah wahh, kya scene hoga,,,ALL BODY PARTS bhi,,
aur komal aur uska pati ya sasur ke sex scene layega,,preeti ki bhi,,aab yo sex ka mann ho raha hai,,
thanks, & sorry for hindi,,,

[masud93]

And Again thanks fir YOUR hard work,.. Aur ek baat, next update kab aayega,bata dete to accha hota,,bahut accha laga aap ka story

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

And Again thanks fir YOUR hard work,.. Aur ek baat, next update kab aayega,bata dete to accha hota,,bahut accha laga aap ka story

Most probably Friday night or Saturday

[masud93]

Most probably Friday night or Saturday

Thanks

[Sage_69]

Extremely erotic. Simran is a feisty woman, she will try to devour Bhola.

[masud93]

Extremely erotic. Simran is a feisty woman, she will try to devour Bhola.

Wish,aisa hi ho,,waiting for malishh with honey & oil

[Givemeextra]

Bhola—poor, lucky Bhola—was invited to free access to them, such was his fate, a simple village boy granted the keys to paradise without earning or asking. Yet he unfortunately didn't register their transcendent beauty—didn't see the heavenly artistry, the hypnotic allure that could fell kings—only her need: the pain in her eyes, the fullness begging relief, his focus pure duty, blind to the erotic masterpiece inches from his face.

Well Simran can definitely educate poor Bhola  and
Get herself satisfied + Help Bhola become educated enough to earn an Master's degree in XXX

[masud93]

Well Simran can definitely educate poor Bhola  and get herself satisfied and Bhola educated in an XXX degree

In an earlier episode, it is mentioned that Bhola's brother had sex with his wife for about an hour.so bhola also will be A strong man,

[masud93]

Story now in PEAKED TIME, So if an update comes now it will be like pouring fuel on the fire.
eagerly waiting & waiting,, It's been a long time since I've read a story this good,,
Aur haan! Hindi mein dialogue ka alaag hi maazaa hai,so keep this in next update also,
All day i dreaming your story seen,,I'm addicted to the story now,,,ao keep updating regularly,,
THANKS A LOT AGAIN

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Also do you know how to create a poll here? I want to understand what others think of some of my characters.