Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Chandigarh

 
Simran stepped out of the bathroom completely naked, her skin still glistening with droplets from the cold shower. The water had done nothing to cool the fire still raging inside her. Her body felt heavy, languid, and hypersensitive — every nerve ending alive and buzzing. Her breasts hung full and tender, nipples dark and erect, still leaking slow, warm trails of milk that ran down the undersides and dripped from the tips onto the floor. Between her legs, her pussy was swollen and slick, the lips puffy and parted, her clit throbbing visibly with every heartbeat. She looked like a woman freshly fucked — flushed, wet, and glowing with that post-orgasmic haze — even though no cock had touched her.
 
She was in a complete trance.
 
Twice she had cum today — once from Bhola’s hungry mouth on her tits in the kitchen, once from the relentless massage that had turned into something far more intimate. The eroticism of it all — the way he had sucked her like he owned her, the taste of her own milk on his lips, the way her body had betrayed her again and again — had left her mind foggy and her limbs weak. She moved like someone walking through a dream, barely aware of her own actions.
 
She didn’t bother with a towel. She simply walked to the wardrobe, pulled out the first things her hands found — a loose, soft white cotton short that barely reached mid-thigh and a matching oversized button-down shirt in the same pale shade. She slipped them on without underwear. The shirt hung open at the top, the fabric brushing her sensitive nipples with every movement. The shorts clung lightly to her still-damp pussy, the crotch already starting to darken again from the constant low throb between her legs.
 
She ran her fingers roughly through her wet hair, not even bothering to dry it properly, and collapsed onto the bed. The moment her head hit the pillow, exhaustion pulled her under like a heavy tide. She drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep within seconds.
 
But the dreams came soon enough.
 
In the dream, she was standing in an endless white room filled with warm, cascading water. It poured over her naked body like a gentle waterfall — running down her neck, between her heavy breasts, over her soft belly, and between her thighs. Ravi was there in the background, a distant silhouette, watching silently. He looked calm, almost approving.
 
Then the scene shifted.
 
Suddenly she was no longer under water. She was standing in the middle of the room, legs spread, breasts impossibly full and heavy. Milk began spraying from her nipples in powerful, continuous arcs — thick white jets shooting outward like fountains. Bhola appeared in front of her, naked from the waist up, trying desperately to reach her. He walked forward, arms outstretched, but the force of her milk sprays was too strong. The streams hit his chest, his face, his shoulders, pushing him back like powerful jets of water. He kept trying, stepping forward again and again, but the milk kept blasting him backward, drenching him completely until his skin shone white and sticky.
 
Simran watched herself in the dream, moaning softly, her hands cupping her own breasts, squeezing them to make the sprays even stronger. She felt powerful. She felt desired. She felt filthy.
 
Then Bhola’s pants suddenly tore away with a loud rip.
 
His cock sprang free — huge, gigantic, an absolute anaconda of a thing. It was already rock-hard, thicker than her wrist, veins bulging along the shaft, the swollen head dark and angry. And it kept growing. Longer. Thicker. Pulsing. The sheer size of it made her gasp in the dream. It curved upward aggressively, the head glistening with pre-cum, easily fourteen inches now and still swelling.
 
The sight distracted her completely.
 
In one swift, powerful motion, the massive cock lunged forward and shoved itself straight into her open mouth. Simran’s eyes widened in shock as her lips stretched obscenely around the thick head. The shaft slid deeper, filling her mouth, pressing against her tongue, hitting the back of her throat. She gagged for a second, then moaned around it as the first powerful spurt of his cum flooded her mouth.
 
Thick, hot, salty ropes of cum pumped endlessly into her. It overflowed instantly — spilling from the corners of her stretched lips, running down her chin in creamy white rivers, dripping onto her heaving breasts. She tried to swallow but there was too much. She started drinking greedily instead, gulping down as much as she could while the rest poured over her face, her neck, her tits, drenching her completely.
 
In the background, Ravi was shouting something — inaudible, distant, frantic — but she didn’t care. She was in heaven. She wrapped both hands around the massive shaft, stroking what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, milking him for more. Her pussy was gushing, thighs shaking, body trembling with ultimate, overwhelming pleasure as she drank and drank and drank.
 
The dream continued, looping, getting filthier, her body writhing on the bed in real life as she slept.
 
Simran’s dream refused to let her go.
 
She was still on her knees in that endless white room, the warm waterfall of milk spraying powerfully from her heavy breasts in thick, continuous arcs. Bhola stood before her, drenched and glistening, his massive cock buried deep in her mouth. The thick shaft pulsed against her tongue as rope after rope of hot, salty cum flooded her throat. She swallowed desperately, gulping down as much as she could, but it was too much. Creamy white cum spilled from the corners of her stretched lips, running in thick rivers down her chin, dripping onto her heaving tits and mixing with her own milk.
 
In the far background, Ravi was still shouting something — his voice distorted and distant, like he was screaming from underwater — but she couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t care. The taste of Bhola’s cum mixed with her own sweet milk on her tongue was driving her wild. Her pussy was gushing, thighs shaking, body trembling with pure, overwhelming pleasure.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Then the dream shifted again.
 
Preeti appeared.
 
She stepped out of the mist of falling milk like she had been waiting in the shadows the whole time. She was completely naked, her caramel skin glowing, her own full breasts swaying as she walked. Her long black hair was wet and plastered to her shoulders, and her eyes were dark with lust and fascination. She looked exactly like she had at the restaurant earlier that day — confident, sensual, and completely at ease with the filth unfolding in front of her.
 
Preeti stopped a few feet away, watching Simran suck greedily on Bhola’s enormous cock. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
 
“Look at you,” Preeti whispered, her voice echoing softly in the dream space. “My beautiful cow… getting her mouth fucked while she drowns everyone in her milk. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”
 
Simran moaned around Bhola’s cock, the sound vibrating along his shaft. Preeti stepped closer, her bare feet splashing through the pools of milk and cum on the floor. She reached out and gently cupped one of Simran’s spraying breasts, lifting it slightly, feeling the powerful jet of milk spray against her palm.
 
“So much milk,” Preeti murmured, almost in awe. “You’re producing so much for him… for us. Let me help you.”
 
Preeti leaned down and pressed her lips to Simran’s other nipple — the one not currently being sucked by Bhola’s cock. She sealed her mouth around it and sucked hard. Milk exploded into Preeti’s mouth in a thick, forceful stream. Preeti moaned loudly, eyes fluttering shut as she drank greedily, swallowing Simran’s milk while her free hand slid down to cup Simran’s dripping pussy.
 
Simran’s eyes rolled back. The sensation of two mouths on her at once — Bhola’s massive cock stretching her lips and throat while Preeti sucked hungrily from her left tit — was too much. Her pussy clenched violently around Preeti’s fingers as another orgasm ripped through her. She came with a muffled scream around Bhola’s cock, her whole body shaking, milk spraying even harder from both breasts.
 
Preeti pulled back just enough to speak, her lips shiny with Simran’s milk.
 
“You taste so good,” she whispered, voice husky. “Keep feeding us, baby. Let us drink everything you have.”
 
Bhola’s cock throbbed harder in Simran’s mouth. He started thrusting gently, fucking her face in slow, deep strokes while Preeti returned to sucking her other tit. Milk poured from both breasts now — one into Preeti’s eager mouth, the other overflowing around Bhola’s thick shaft as he used her throat. Cum and milk mixed together, dripping everywhere, drenching all three of them.
 
Simran was drowning in pleasure.
 
Her mind spun with the filth of it all — her husband shouting uselessly in the background, her best friend drinking from her tits like a lover, and Bhola’s monstrous cock claiming her mouth while her body kept spraying milk like a broken fountain.
 
She came again.
 
And again.
 
The dream refused to end. It kept looping, getting dirtier, more intense, more overwhelming. Preeti’s fingers slid deeper inside her pussy, curling perfectly against her G-spot while she sucked harder on Simran’s nipple. Bhola’s cock grew even thicker in her mouth, stretching her lips obscenely as he fucked her face with long, powerful strokes.
 
Simran’s body convulsed in the dream, orgasms crashing through her one after another, milk spraying wildly, cum and cream covering her face, her breasts, her thighs.
 
She was lost.
 
Completely, utterly lost in the most forbidden pleasure her mind could create.
 
Simran woke with a start, her body slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around her legs. The clock on the bedside table read 5:07 PM. She had slept for hours — deep, heavy sleep that left her disoriented and groggy. Her mouth felt dry, her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she had skipped lunch entirely. The dream still clung to her like a fever — fragments flashing behind her eyes: endless sprays of her own milk, Preeti’s mouth on her breast, Bhola’s gigantic cock forcing its way between her lips, the overwhelming taste of cum and cream mixing together. She couldn’t remember half of it clearly, but the feeling remained — a hot, shameful ache low in her belly and between her legs.
 
She sat up slowly, rubbing her face. Her shirt was damp with sweat and fresh milk leaks, the fabric sticking to her heavy breasts. Her nipples were stiff and sensitive, already leaking again. Between her thighs, her panty was soaked through from the dream and the lingering arousal from earlier. She felt sticky, messy, and strangely alive.
 
She changed quickly into the loose white short and matching loose shirt she had worn earlier — the outfit was comfortable, casual, the kind of thing she sometimes lounged in at home. The shorts sat low on her hips, the shirt hung oversized and unbuttoned at the top, giving easy glimpses of her deep cleavage. She didn’t bother with a bra or change her panty. She simply ran her fingers through her messy hair and headed downstairs, stomach rumbling.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

The moment she stepped into the hall, Bhola saw her from the kitchen. He immediately came forward, concern written across his face.
 
“Bhabhi… aap theek hain? Aap itni der se so rahi thi.”
“Bhabhi… are you fine? You slept for so long.”
 
Simran gave him a small, tired smile.
 
“Bahot bhuk lagi hai, Bhola. Mainne lunch nehi kiya.”
“I’m very hungry, Bhola. I skipped lunch.”
 
Bhola nodded quickly and moved to the kitchen counter. Within a minute he brought her a plate of snacks — warm aloo tikki, some roasted peanuts, and a glass of powdered milk mixed with a little sugar and cardamom the way she liked it.
 
“Ab yeh kha lijiye, Bhabhi. Dinner jaldi se taiyaar ho jayega.”
“Eat this now, Bhabhi. Dinner will be ready soon.”
 
Simran took the plate and glass, murmuring a soft thank you. Her nipples were leaking again — small wet spots already forming on the front of her loose shirt. Bhola noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stepped closer and reached for the top button of her shirt, fingers ready to open it so he could suck her properly.
 
Simran felt a sudden rush of awkwardness. She stepped back quickly, one hand coming up to hold her shirt closed.
 
“Bhola… tum har baar mujhse milte hi mujhe choosne lagte ho,”
“Bhola… you just suck me every time I meet you,” she said, half-teasing, half-embarrassed, her voice soft.
 
Bhola paused, then stepped forward again, his expression innocent but determined. He reached for the buttons once more. Simran stepped back again, a small, nervous laugh escaping her. It turned into a strange, playful game of catch and release — Bhola gently advancing, Simran retreating with shy little steps, both of them moving around the living room like lovers dancing around a secret.
 
He tried one more time, reaching for her shirt. Simran backed away, giggling nervously, but this time Bhola moved faster. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her clean off the floor in one smooth motion. Simran let out a surprised gasp, her legs kicking lightly in the air for a second.
 
“Bhola—!”
 
With his other hand he quickly unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt. The fabric parted instantly, exposing her full, heavy right breast. The dark nipple was already leaking, a thick white bead rolling down the curve. Bhola didn’t waste another second. He lunged forward, mouth open, and latched onto her right tit with raw hunger. He sucked hard and deep, cheeks hollowing immediately as thick streams of milk jetted into his mouth.
 
Simran moaned sharply, her body going limp in his grasp for a moment.
 
“Aaahhh…”
 
She tried to protest — hands pushing weakly at his shoulders — but the pleasure hit her too fast. Her legs stopped kicking. Her head fell back slightly as Bhola drank from her like a man who had been waiting all day. His mouth made loud, wet, greedy sounds, milk spilling from the corners of his lips and running down her exposed breast in warm white rivers.
 
Simran’s resistance melted away in seconds. Her hands moved to the back of his head instead, fingers sliding into his hair, holding him there as he sucked.
 
The game was over.
 
And both of them knew it had only just begun again.
 
Bhola kept her suspended effortlessly in the air, one strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her body weight like she weighed nothing at all. Her legs dangled helplessly on either side of his hips, toes barely brushing the floor. The loose white short had ridden up high on her thighs from all the squirming, the hem barely covering the curve of her ass. Her matching loose shirt hung open, both heavy breasts completely exposed and bouncing softly with every small movement she made.
 
“Main choos kar hi aapko chhorunga, Bhabhi,”
“I will suck and then only leave you, Bhabhi,” Bhola murmured against her right nipple, his voice low and determined, lips brushing the wet, swollen peak as he spoke.
 
“Jaise maine vaada kiya tha. Main sab kuch khatam kar dunga.”
“As I promised. I will finish everything.”
 
Simran’s hands pushed weakly at his shoulders, her fingers pressing against the solid muscle there.
 
“Bhola… koi aa jayega… Ravi bhi aata hi hoga… please… mujhe neeche utaar do…”
“Bhola… someone will come… Ravi might be about to return… please… put me down…”
 
But her protests were breathless, half-hearted, her voice cracking every time he sucked harder. Bhola didn’t listen. He simply tightened his grip around her waist, lifting her a little higher so her breasts were perfectly level with his face.
 
“Koi nahi aayega, Bhabhi,”
“No one will come, Bhabhi,”
 
he said calmly, almost reassuringly, as if he were stating a simple fact.
 
“In bade-bade tarboozon ko choos kar saara doodh jaldi pee leta hoon. Bahut bhare hue hain… mujhe mehsoos ho raha hai kitne bhari hain.”

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Let me suck these big melons and drink all the milk fast. They are so full… I can feel how heavy they are.”
 
He latched onto her right nipple again with a wet, hungry sound, sucking deep and hard. His cheeks hollowed as he pulled with powerful, rhythmic force. Thick streams of warm milk jetted into his mouth, filling him instantly. He swallowed greedily, but still more overflowed, running down his chin and dripping onto her bare stomach in warm white rivulets. His free hand came up to squeeze the soft, heavy globe he was drinking from, milking it downward to force even more milk out.
 
Simran gasped sharply, her body jerking in his grasp.
 
“Bhola… ruk ja… ahh… koi sun lega…”
“Bhola… stop… ahh… someone might hear…”
 
She kept pushing at his shoulders, her palms sliding against his kurta, trying to create space between them. But her legs betrayed her — they instinctively wrapped tighter around his waist for balance, pulling her soaked crotch even closer to the massive, iron-hard bulge in his pants. His cock was fully erect now, thick and throbbing, straining painfully against the thin fabric. Every time she squirmed or kicked her legs lightly in protest, the heavy length of it nudged and rubbed against the soft, covered curve of her ass.
 
The contact was constant. Erotic. Dangerous.
 
Each small struggle she made caused her plump ass cheeks to press and grind against that rigid monster. The thick shaft slid between them through the layers of cloth, the fat head bumping against the underside of her ass again and again. Simran could feel its heat, its impossible girth, the way it pulsed and jerked every time he sucked harder on her tit. Her soaked panty was now rubbing directly against it, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide how wet she was. Fresh slick kept leaking out of her, smearing across the front of his pants with every desperate wiggle.
 
“Bhola… please… mujhe neeche utaar do…”
“Bhola… please… put me down…” she whimpered, pushing at his chest again, but her voice was breaking into soft, needy moans.
 
Bhola simply held her tighter, lifting her higher so her breasts bounced freely in front of his face. He switched to the left tit, latching on with the same greedy hunger.
 
“Mujhe pura choos lene do, Bhabhi,”
“Let me finish, Bhabhi,” he murmured around her nipple, the words muffled and wet.
 
“Yeh bade-bade aam jaise itne bhare hue hain… mujhe sab kuch peena hai… phir main aapko chhod dunga.”
“These big mangos are so full… I need to drink everything… then I will leave you.”
 
He sucked harder, his hand squeezing the soft flesh roughly, forcing thick jets of milk to spray into his mouth. His cock throbbed violently against her ass with every pull, the heavy shaft sliding up and down between her cheeks as she kept squirming in his grasp. The erotic game of resistance only made it worse — every time she pushed him away, her body would rock back against him, grinding her dripping pussy and soft ass harder against his iron-hard cock.
 
Simran’s mind was spinning.
 
He’s so hard… God, I can feel every inch of it against my ass. It’s so thick… so hot… every time I move it rubs right between my cheeks. I’m soaking through my shorts. I’m going to cum again just from this… from him holding me in the air and sucking my tits while his cock grinds against me…
 
She kept protesting weakly, pushing at his shoulders, her legs kicking lightly in the air.
 
“Bhola… koi… ahh… aa sakta hai…”
“Bhola… someone… ahh… might come…”
 
But her body kept betraying her — hips rolling subtly, ass pressing back against that massive, throbbing bulge, chasing the friction even as she pretended to fight him.
 
Bhola remained completely focused, innocent in his determination, sucking her tits like the only thing that mattered was emptying her completely. His cock kept nudging and rubbing against her covered ass with every small movement she made, the thick head pressing insistently between her cheeks through the thin layers of cloth.
 
The game continued — erotic, tense, and utterly filthy — with Simran suspended in his strong arms, protesting and moaning at the same time, while Bhola drank from her like he would never let her go.
 
And neither of them wanted it to end.
 
Bhola’s precum had already soaked through the front of his pants long ago. The thick, dark fabric at the front of his crotch was visibly wet, a large damp patch spreading outward from where the swollen head of his monster cock pressed insistently against the material. Every time Simran squirmed or kicked her legs lightly in half-hearted protest, the heavy shaft would throb and leak more, smearing fresh precum across the inside of his pants.
 
Simran was leaking just as badly from below. Her white panty was completely ruined — the thin cotton crotch plastered transparently to her swollen pink pussy lips, the fabric dark and shiny with her slick. Fresh waves of her arousal kept gushing out with every powerful suck from Bhola’s mouth, running down her inner thighs in hot, slippery trails and soaking into the waistband of her shorts.
 
He was only half done.
 
Bhola suddenly released her left tit with a loud, wet pop. A thick string of milk stretched between his swollen lips and her dark, glistening nipple before snapping. He looked up at her for a split second, then did his signature move — the one that always broke her.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

He pinched her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it outward slowly, stretching the thick peak long and taut. Then he dove in and sucked with brutal force — cheeks hollowing dramatically, tongue pressing flat against the underside as he tugged with everything he had.
 
Simran cried out in pure ecstasy.
 
“Aaaahhhhhh!”
 
The sharp pull combined with the sudden savage suction sent a lightning bolt straight to her clit. Her whole body jerked violently in his arms, legs kicking once before locking tighter around his waist. Her pussy spasmed hard, gushing fresh slick into her already drenched panty. The orgasm that had been building for so long finally crashed through her — not gentle, but violent and overwhelming. She shook uncontrollably, thighs trembling, a broken moan tearing from her throat as wave after wave ripped through her core.
 
Bhola didn’t stop. He kept sucking through her climax, drinking every drop that her spasming body gave him.
 
When her tremors finally began to ease, he gently lowered her feet back to the floor. The moment her weight settled, his rock-hard cock — still trapped in his pants — slid straight between the cheeks of her bare ass. The thick, burning length nestled perfectly in the valley between her plump globes, the fat head nudging right against her soaked panty-covered pussy from behind. The contact was electric. Simran gasped sharply, her knees buckling for a second as she felt the immense heat and girth pressing against her most private places.
 
Bhola stepped back one pace, breathing hard, his eyes dark with hunger but still strangely innocent. He turned toward the main door, walked quickly, and slid the bolt shut with a soft click. The sound echoed in the silent house like a final seal.
 
He came back to her immediately.
 
Without a word, he grabbed her waist with both strong hands and lifted her clean off the floor again. Simran’s legs instinctively wrapped around his hips for balance. Her loose shorts had bunched up completely during all the struggling — now they looked more like a tiny thong, the fabric wedged high between her ass cheeks, leaving her bare, plump ass completely exposed and resting fully in his large, warm palms.
 
Bhola used one hand to quickly open one more button of her shirt. The fabric parted instantly, fully exposing her right breast — heavy, round, still leaking, the dark nipple glistening and erect. He lunged forward like a man possessed and latched onto it with savage hunger.
 
He sucked like his life depended on it.
 
His mouth sealed tight around the nipple and a large portion of the soft flesh, pulling with deep, brutal, rhythmic force. Milk jetted powerfully into his mouth in thick, creamy streams. He gulped noisily, swallowing again and again, but still more overflowed, running down his chin and dripping onto her stomach and the front of his shirt.
 
Simran had completely submitted.
 
Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into his shoulders as she held on. Her legs locked tightly behind his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him closer. Her bare ass rested fully in his strong hands, the plump cheeks spreading slightly in his grip. She moaned helplessly with every deep suck — soft, broken cries of pleasure that she no longer tried to hide.
 
Bhola’s eyes were closed in pure bliss. He sucked like the world outside didn’t exist — only her breasts, only her milk, only the sweet taste that had become his addiction. His hands kneaded her ass roughly while he drank, fingers sinking into the soft, warm flesh, holding her suspended in the air as if she weighed nothing.
 
Simran was in heaven.
 
Her head fell back slightly, lips parted, eyes half-closed as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. Her pussy throbbed against the thick bulge of his cock, the soaked panty rubbing helplessly against his hardness with every small movement. Milk kept flowing into his mouth, and she could feel herself leaking from below too — fresh slick soaking through her shorts and smearing across the front of his pants.
 
She had completely forgotten she was married.
 
In that moment, suspended in Bhola’s arms, shirt open, breasts being devoured, ass in his hands, pussy grinding against his massive cock — she was simply a woman surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure her body had been craving.
 
And Bhola kept sucking — slow, deep, relentless — like he would never let her go.
 
Bhola had been carrying her for almost fifteen full minutes.
 
Simran remained suspended in his strong arms, her legs locked tightly around his waist, her bare ass resting completely in his large palms as he walked slowly around the open hall. The loose white short had bunched up completely around her hips like a useless belt, leaving her plump, milky-white ass cheeks fully exposed and spread slightly in his grip. Her shirt hung open, both heavy breasts bouncing gently against his chest with every step he took. Milk continued to leak from her dark, swollen nipples, smearing across the front of his kurta in warm, sticky trails.
 
He never stopped sucking.
 
His mouth stayed latched onto one tit, then the other, switching every few steps with wet, obscene pops. He sucked slowly now, almost lazily, taking long, deep pulls that made her breasts stretch forward into his mouth before releasing with a soft jiggle. Milk flowed steadily into him, and he swallowed with quiet, satisfied gulps, but still more spilled from the corners of his lips, running down his chin and dripping onto her stomach and thighs. Every time he switched breasts, a fresh spray would arc across his face, coating his cheeks and neck.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Simran had stopped protesting entirely.
 
Her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. Her head rested against his shoulder, eyes half-closed, soft moans and whimpers escaping her lips with every deep suck. Her pussy was dripping constantly now — the soaked panty rubbing against the thick, iron-hard bulge in his pants with every step he took. The massive shaft was lodged firmly between her thick thighs, the fat head nudging right against her swollen clit through the thin layers of cloth. Every time Bhola took a step, the heavy cock would slide back and forth between her thighs, grinding deliciously against her most sensitive spot.
 
She was in a haze of pleasure.
 
Her mind kept whispering filthy, dangerous thoughts:
 
He’s walking around the house with me like this… sucking my tits while my husband sleeps upstairs… his huge cock rubbing between my thighs… I’m leaking milk and pussy juice all over him… and I don’t want him to stop…
 
Bhola finally slowed near the sofa. With gentle care, he lowered her down onto the cushions. As her ass touched the sofa, his rock-hard cock — still trapped in his pants — slid straight between her thick, soft thighs one last time, the thick shaft lodging perfectly in the warm valley between them. The head pressed hot and heavy right against her soaked panty-covered pussy. Simran gasped sharply at the contact, her legs instinctively squeezing around it for a second before she forced herself to relax.
 
Bhola stepped back slightly, breathing hard, his mouth and chin completely covered in her milk. It glistened on his lips, dripped from his jaw, soaked the collar of his kurta.
 
He looked at her with that same innocent, reverent expression and said softly:
 
“Aapki chuchiya bahut swadist hain, Bhabhi… main inhe pee pee ke aur takatwar ban jaunga.”
“Your boobs are very tasty, Bhabhi… by drinking them again and again I will become even stronger.”
 
Simran didn’t know what to say.
 
She could only stare at him, cheeks burning, as he turned and went to the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a small plate of warm bread toast and a glass of powdered milk mixed with Jeevdhatu — the same herbal powder he always added for her.
 
“Ab yeh kha lijiye, Bhabhi,”
“Eat this now, Bhabhi,” he said gently, placing the plate and glass on the table in front of her.
 
“Dinner jaldi se taiyaar ho jayega.”
“Dinner will be ready soon.”
 
Simran picked up a piece of toast with trembling fingers and took a small bite, trying to act normal. But her mind was spinning. She kept replaying the last fifteen minutes — Bhola carrying her around the house like she weighed nothing, his mouth latched onto her tits the entire time, his massive cock rubbing between her thighs with every step. She couldn’t stop thinking about how big it had felt. How thick. How hard. How it had pressed right against her soaked pussy through their clothes.
 
Her gaze dropped involuntarily to his crotch as he stood in front of her.
 
The monster was fully erect for quite some time now.
 
The front of his pants was stretched obscenely tight, the thick outline of his cock clearly visible — long, heavy, curving upward, the fat head pressing hard against the fabric like it wanted to tear free. A large wet spot of precum had soaked through near the tip, making the material cling to the shape.
 
Simran’s mouth fell open slightly.
 
“What…?” she breathed, eyes wide.
 
Bhola tilted his head, confused.
 
“Aapne mujhe bulaya, Bhabhi?”
“You called me, Bhabhi?”
 
Simran’s voice came out in a shocked whisper.
 
“Bhola… ye kya hai?”
“Bhola… what is this?”
 
Her mouth formed a perfect, surprised “O” as she stared at the massive bulge. The sheer size of it — the way it throbbed visibly against his pants — left her speechless. Her pussy clenched hard at the sight, fresh slick flooding her already ruined panty.
 
Bhola suddenly realised what she was looking at. His ears turned red, and he shifted his stance awkwardly, trying to hide the obvious erection. But it was too late.
 
The powder (Jeevdhatu) he had been taking daily had heavily reduced the sensation in his cock — that was why he could stay hard for so long without feeling overwhelmed. Whether that was a good thing or not… only time would tell.
 
But right now, Simran’s wide, shocked eyes were fixed on the monster hidden in his pants, and Bhola stood there, suddenly very aware that she had just seen everything.
 
The air between them crackled with a new, dangerous tension.
 
And Simran’s mind was already racing ahead to what might happen next.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Bhola suddenly froze.
 
The moment Simran’s wide, shocked eyes dropped to the massive, throbbing bulge in his pants, panic flashed across his face. His ears turned bright red. Without a word, he covered his crotch with both hands, turned around sharply, and ran toward his room at the back of the house. His footsteps were quick and embarrassed on the tiled floor.
 
Simran sat there on the sofa for a split second, stunned. Then guilt crashed over her like cold water.
 
Oh no… what have I done? I stared at him like that. I made him feel ashamed. He’s just a simple boy trying to help me and I… I looked at him like he was some kind of freak. He must be so embarrassed right now.
 
She stood up quickly, her loose shirt still open, breasts heavy and leaking, and hurried after him. Her bare feet were silent as she crossed the hall. When she reached his door, it was already locked from inside.
 
“Bhola…” she called softly, knocking gently. “Bhola, please darwaza khol do.”
“Bhola…” she called softly, knocking gently. “Bhola, please open the door.”
 
No answer.
 
She knocked again, her voice softer, almost pleading.
 
“Bhola… maaf kar do. Please khol do. Koi baat nehi. Yeh sab natural hai. Sharmane ki koi baat nahi. Please… mujhe andar aane do.”
“Bhola… I’m sorry. Please open. It’s okay. It’s only natural. Nothing to be ashamed of. Please… let me in.”
 
She waited, heart pounding. After almost a minute of gentle knocking and soft reassurances, the bolt clicked. The door opened just a crack.
 
Bhola stood there, head slightly lowered, one hand still covering the front of his pants. His face was flushed, eyes avoiding hers.
 
Simran stepped inside without waiting for permission. She closed the door behind her gently and stood in front of him.
 
“Kya hua hai?” she asked softly, her voice full of concern.
“What is wrong?” she asked softly, her voice full of concern.
 
Bhola stammered, looking anywhere but at her.
 
“Main… main nahi jaanta, Bhabhi… yeh… yeh bas ho jaata hai… mera iraada nahi tha…”
“I… I don’t know, Bhabhi… it… it just happens… I didn’t mean to…”
 
Simran’s heart ached for him. In her mind, a fierce protective instinct flared up.
 
He is my future potential bull… I cannot let him lose confidence like this. Not now. Not ever.
 
She stepped closer, her tone gentle but firm.
 
“Fikar mat karo, Bhola. Aisa hota hai. Yeh bilkul natural hai. Iske liye tumhe bura feel karne ki zaroorat nahi.”
“Don’t worry, Bhola. It happens. It’s completely natural. You don’t have to feel bad about it.”
 
Bhola looked up at her shyly, relief flickering in his eyes.
 
“Shukriya, Bhabhi… samajhne ke liye.”
“Thank you, Bhabhi… for understanding.”
 
Simran smiled softly, trying to keep her voice light.
 
“Ek shart par.”
“On one condition.”
 
Bhola tilted his head, confused.
 
“What?”
 
She took a small breath, her cheeks warming, but her voice stayed steady.
 
“Pehle mujhe dikhao kya problem hai.”
“Show me what’s wrong first.”
 
Bhola thought she simply meant to remove his hands from the front of his pants. He slowly lowered them, still looking embarrassed.
 
But Simran wanted more.
 
She wanted to see everything.
 
Her eyes dropped to the massive, straining bulge in his pants. The fabric was stretched so tight it looked ready to tear. The thick outline of his cock was unmistakable — long, heavy, curving upward aggressively. The swollen head pressed hard against the material, a large wet spot of precum darkening the front.
 
Simran’s mouth fell open slightly.
 
“Ohh…My…God…” she breathed, eyes wide, unable to tear her gaze away.
 
She was yet to see what truly lay inside, but even the outline was enough to make her pussy clench hard. The sheer size, the thickness, the way it throbbed visibly against his pants — it was mesmerizing.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

She swallowed hard, then said softly:
 
“Idhar aao.”
“Come here.”
 
Bhola took one hesitant step closer. He was standing right in front of her now, while she sat on the edge of his bed. The height difference made the bulge level with her face.
 
Simran looked up at him, her voice gentle but insistent.
 
“Mujhe theek se dikhao kya ho raha hai, Bhola.”
“Show me properly what is happening, Bhola.”
 
He hesitated, confused and shy. After a long moment of her soft, reassuring words,
 
“Koi nahi… main bas dekhna chahti hoon… sharmane ki koi baat nahi hai” — he finally nodded.
“It’s okay… I just want to see… there’s nothing to be ashamed of” — he finally nodded.
 
With trembling fingers, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slowly lowered them.
 
The pants slid down his strong thighs and pooled at his ankles.
 
He was still wearing his underwear — a simple white cotton brief that was now stretched to its absolute limit. The fabric looked like it would tear any second. The massive, thick shaft was clearly outlined, the fat head pushing aggressively against the waistband, precum soaking through in a large, dark patch. The sheer size of it made the underwear look comically small.
 
Simran stared, completely transfixed.
 
Her mouth was slightly open, eyes wide with a mixture of shock, curiosity, and raw hunger. She couldn’t look away. Her mind was spinning with filthy, overwhelming thoughts as she took in the impossible girth and length hidden just beneath that thin white fabric.
 
Bhola stood there, hands at his sides, cheeks burning with embarrassment, waiting for her reaction.
 
And Simran, still sitting on the bed in her open shirt, could only stare at the monster that had been pressing against her all evening.
 
The room felt smaller. The air felt thicker.
 
And the line they had been dancing around for days had just become dangerously thin.
 
 
Simran’s eyes were locked on the impossible bulge in Bhola’s pants. Her voice came out in a slow, breathless whisper, barely audible.
 
“What…? How is it possible…?”, she said to herself but loud enough for Bhola to hear something.
 
The words hung in the air like smoke. Bhola’s ears turned even redder. Although he didn’t understand fully what she said, he quickly reached down to pull his pants back up, clearly mortified, but Simran’s hand shot forward and caught both of his wrists before he could cover himself again.
 
“Ruko,” she said, her voice soft but trembling with something far more intense than curiosity. “Mujhe dekhna hai.”
“Wait,” she said, her voice soft but trembling with something far more intense than curiosity. “I need to see.”
 
Bhola froze, eyes wide with confusion and embarrassment.
 
“Bhabhi… fikar mat kijiye… yeh chala jayega. Bas thoda time lagta hai.”
“Bhabhi… don’t worry… it will go away. It just takes some time.”
 
Simran’s breath was shallow. Her gaze never left the massive, throbbing outline straining against the fabric.
 
“Time? Kitna time?”
“Time? How much time?”
 
“Shayad… do ghante ya uske aas-paas?”
“May be… two hours or so?” he stammered, still trying to gently pull his hands away.
 
“Do Ghante?”
“Two hours?” Simran repeated, almost in disbelief. Her mouth had gone dry, but her mind was flooding with heat. She could feel saliva pooling under her tongue, as if her body was preparing to taste something forbidden.
 
Two hours like this? That thing is staying hard for two whole hours?
 
The thought made her pussy clench so hard she had to press her thighs together. Fresh slick leaked into her already ruined panty.
 
She had to see it now. Today. This moment.
 
“Bas ek baar dekhne do,”
“Just let me see once,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
 
Bhola didn’t move. He stood there, hands still half-covering the front of his pants, looking lost and shy.
 
Simran’s fingers trembled as she reached for the waistband of his pants. She hooked them under the elastic and started pulling downward slowly. The fabric resisted immediately. The monster inside was pointing almost straight up, the thick shaft angled toward the ceiling corner, making it difficult for the pants to slide over it. She tugged harder, but it only stretched the material tighter around the bulging head.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

She looked up at him, cheeks burning, voice small and shaky.
 
“Isse bahar nikalo, Bhola…”
“Take this out, Bhola…”
 
It sounded like she was asking him to release some wild creature from a cage. And in a way, she was.
 
Bhola hesitated for a second, then nodded. He grabbed the thick base of his cock through the pants with one hand and tried to angle it downward so the waistband could pass. The movement made the bulge shift obscenely, the fat head pressing even harder against the fabric. He pushed it down slightly, but the sheer girth made it difficult.
 
Simran couldn’t wait any longer.
 
She pulled the waistband down further herself, inch by inch, her eyes wide and unblinking. The first few inches of the shaft appeared — dark, thick as her wrist, veins already standing out prominently against the smooth skin. Dark pubic hair, trimmed but not shaved, framed the base. She kept pulling, revealing more and more of the impossible length. It was already six inches out, and the head still hadn’t appeared.
 
Ravi was maybe six inches when fully excited on Viagra. This… this wasn’t even half of it yet.
 
She kept tugging the waistband lower, her breath coming in short, excited gasps. Then, after three more thick inches, the swollen, bulbous head finally started to emerge — dark purple, glistening with precum, flaring wide and angry.
 
She pulled just a little more.
 
The monster sprang free with sudden violence.
 
The thick, heavy cock whipped upward like a released spring, the fat head slapping hard against her chin and open mouth with a wet *thwack*. The force was so surprising that her mouth snapped shut for a second around the side of the shaft before she jerked backward. She lost her balance and fell back onto the bed with a gasp, eyes wide with shock, lips tingling from the sudden impact.
 
Bhola stood there, pants around his thighs, his gigantic cock now fully exposed and pointing straight at her — throbbing, veined, and impossibly thick. A thick bead of precum glistened at the tip, slowly dripping down the underside of the shaft.
 
Simran lay on the bed, propped on her elbows, staring at it in stunned silence.
 
The sight was burned into her mind forever.
Simran didn’t think. She simply reacted.
 
The moment Bhola’s massive cock sprang free and slapped against her lips and chin, something primal took over. She slid off the bed and dropped to her knees in front of him in one fluid motion, as if the enormous shaft itself had commanded her into position. Her bare knees hit the cool floor, and she found herself eye-level with the most intimidating sight she had ever seen in her life.
 
The monster was even more overwhelming up close.
 
It was dark, almost blackish-brown, thick as her wrist at the base and only slightly tapering toward the head. The shaft was heavily veined — thick, rope-like veins pulsing visibly along its entire length, some branching out like rivers on a map. The skin was smooth but stretched tight over the rigid hardness, with a slight upward curve that made the fat, bulbous head point aggressively toward her face. The head itself was enormous — flared wide like a mushroom cap, the color a deep, angry purple, glistening with a thick bead of precum that slowly dripped down the underside in a shiny thread. The entire cock was easily eleven inches long, maybe more, and so heavy it bobbed slightly with his heartbeat.
 
Below it hung his balls — two large, heavy orbs in a loose, dark sac. They were full and pendulous, swaying gently with every small movement he made, covered in a light dusting of the same dark hair that framed the base of his shaft. They looked heavy with seed, the kind of balls that promised to pump out load after load.
 
Simran’s mouth fell open in pure awe.
 
“Bhola… yeh to…”
“Bhola… this is…” she whispered, voice hoarse.
 
Bhola’s face burned with embarrassment. He started to pull his pants back up, mumbling,
 
“Bhabhi, maaf karna… yeh bas ho jaata hai…”
“Bhabhi, I’m sorry… it just happens…”
 
But Simran reached out fast and caught his wrists again.
 
“Ruko,” she breathed. “Mujhe dekhna hai.”
“Wait,” she breathed. “I need to see.”
 
Bhola hesitated, then lowered his hands. His cock twitched once in the open air, the heavy shaft bobbing forward as if acknowledging her gaze.
 
Simran stared, transfixed. A thin string of saliva actually dripped from the corner of her open mouth before she realised it and closed her lips. Her pussy clenched so hard she felt a fresh gush of slick soak through her shorts.
 
She looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Kya main… touch kar sakti hoon?”
“Can I… touch?”
 
Bhola didn’t answer. He just stood there, confused and shy, breathing fast.
 
Simran didn’t wait for words. She reached forward slowly, her small, milky-white hand looking tiny against the dark, monstrous cock. She ran her fingertips gently along the underside from base to head, feeling the heat, the throbbing veins, the impossible girth. The contrast was mesmerising — her soft, pale skin against the thick, dark shaft. She wrapped her fingers around it as best she could, but they didn’t even meet. It was too thick.
 
Her mind was spinning with filthy thoughts:
 
This is so big… so heavy… so strong… I want to tame it. I want to make it mine. I want to ride this monster every single night. I want it stretching me open while Bhola sucks my tits at the same time. Look at those veins… he must be in so much pain staying this hard all the time. How can I give him relief? How can I make this beautiful monster feel good?
 
She looked up at him again, voice soft and shaky.
 
“Bhola… main kya kar sakti hoon madad ke liye?”
“Bhola… what can I do to help?”
 
Bhola shifted uncomfortably, still not understanding the full weight of her words.
 
“Kuch nahi, Bhabhi… yeh apne aap chala jayega. Hamesha jaata hai.”
“Nothing, Bhabhi… it will go away on its own. It always does.”
 
Simran’s eyes widened.
 
“Yahan zyada sensation nahi hota?”
“You don’t feel much sensation here?” she asked, gently squeezing the thick shaft.
 
Bhola shook his head, looking almost apologetic.
 
“Main zyada feel nahi karta, Bhabhi. Mujhe asal mein aata-jaata feel nahi hota. Maaf karna.”
“I don’t feel much, Bhabhi. I don’t really feel it coming and going. I’m sorry.”
 
Simran’s mind reeled.
 
He doesn’t feel it? That means… this huge, beautiful cock is basically only for others to enjoy? Not even for him? He can stay hard for hours… maybe even fuck for hours without cumming too fast…
 
The realisation hit her like a drug. A dark, delicious thrill ran through her body. Her pussy clenched again, leaking fresh slick down her thighs.
 
She opened her mouth to say something — anything — when the doorbell rang sharply through the house.
 
Ravi was back.
 
Simran’s eyes widened in panic. She quickly stood up, but before she could move away, she leaned forward one last time. She pressed her cheek and nose against the hot, throbbing length of his cock, inhaling deeply — the musky, masculine scent mixed with the faint sweetness of his precum. She closed her eyes for one long second, breathing him in like she was memorising it.
 
Then she pulled back, smiled up at him with flushed cheeks, and whispered:
 
“Aaj tum mujhe mera hissa dena bhool gaye…”
“You forgot to feed me my share today…”
 
She straightened her shirt, turned, and hurried toward the main door, completely forgetting she was still in her super-short white shorts and loose open shirt — no bra, nipples clearly visible through the fabric, shorts riding high on her thighs, the crotch dark with her arousal.
 
She opened the main door for Ravi, her heart pounding, body still humming from everything that had just happened.
 
Simran’s legs were still shaky as she had walked to the main door, her heart racing from everything that had just happened in Bhola’s room. She opened it with what she hoped was a normal smile, and Ravi stepped inside, briefcase in hand, looking tired but happy to be home.
 
The moment his eyes landed on her, they widened.
 
“Simran… wow,” he said, stopping in the doorway and taking her in from head to toe. “You are looking… something else tonight.”
 
She was still in the loose white short and matching loose shirt she had thrown on earlier. The shorts rode high on her creamy thighs, the hem barely covering the lower curve of her ass. The shirt hung open at the top two buttons, giving a dangerous glimpse of her deep cleavage and the soft inner swells of her heavy breasts. Her nipples were still stiff and slightly visible through the thin fabric, and the faint damp spots from her leaking milk were just noticeable if someone looked closely. Her hair was messy from the earlier activities, cheeks still flushed, lips slightly swollen. She looked like a woman who had just been thoroughly used — which, in a way, she had.
 
She laughed lightly, trying to play it off.
 
“I just came downstairs looking for you. There you rang the bell at the perfect time.”
 
Ravi stepped inside, still staring at her legs and the way the shirt clung to her curves.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Where’s Bhola?” he asked casually, setting his bag down.
 
Simran shrugged, keeping her voice steady.
 
“He’s somewhere around. I don’t know… probably in the kitchen or his room. I haven’t seen him”, she was surprised at her openly lying to her husband. Her heart skipped a beat.
 
Ravi nodded, too tired to think much of it, and they both headed upstairs together. Simran walked a step ahead, very aware of how her ass moved in the short shorts and how the shirt shifted with every step, threatening to reveal more.
 
Bhola was still in his room, his heart was pounding like a rabbit as Simran had just walked outside with his dick in his hands. The massive erection in his pants refused to go down even slightly. The powder had dulled the sensation, but the visual and emotional overload from what had just happened with Simran had kept him painfully hard. He quickly pulled his dick upward, tucking the thick shaft against his lower belly, then grabbed a long, loose kurta from his cupboard and wore it over his pants. The hem hung low enough to completely hide the obscene bulge. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and went back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up, his mind still replaying the feeling of Simran’s soft lips brushing against his cock.
 
Upstairs, Ravi dropped onto the bed with a tired sigh and looked at Simran again as she moved around the room.
 
“Simran, seriously… you are wearing such scandalously sexy clothes today,” he said with a playful grin. “Men would die just looking at you like this.”
 
She turned toward him, smiling teasingly, and gave a little spin that made the shorts ride up even higher on her thighs.
 
“Don’t worry… no men will see me to die,” she replied, her voice light and playful.
 
Ravi raised an eyebrow, still grinning.
 
“Really? What about Bhola?”
 
Simran’s heart skipped, but she kept her tone casual and confident.
 
“Ravi, he is family. Don’t worry about him.”
 
Ravi chuckled and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead.
 
“Of course I never do. He’s like a younger brother to us”, Simran just felt awkward and a bitter taste with that word Brother.
 
He leaned back against the headboard and asked, “Anyway, how was your day?”
 
Simran quickly deflected, not wanting to linger on anything that might make her blush.
 
“Forget about me. How was your day?”
 
Ravi’s face lit up a little as he started talking.
 
“Actually, it was pretty good. I closed a new deal with a Bangalore-based company. They want us to integrate AI into their gaming and digital magazine platforms — smart recommendation engines, personalised content, that kind of thing. It’s a big project. I have to fly to Bangalore tomorrow morning for the first meeting. I’ll be back the next day morning, hopefully.”
 
Simran nodded, trying to look interested while her mind was still downstairs, replaying every second of what had happened with Bhola. Her nipples were still tingling, her pussy still wet, and the taste of her own milk from his mouth lingered faintly on her tongue.
 
She smiled at Ravi and said softly, “That sounds important. You should rest well tonight.”
 
But inside, her thoughts were already drifting back to the servant’s room and the monster she had finally seen.
 
Simran slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her with a soft click. The moment she was alone, she leaned against the sink for a second, trying to steady her breathing. Her body was still humming from everything that had happened downstairs — the taste of her own milk on Bhola’s lips, the sight of his monstrous cock, the way it had slapped against her mouth and chin. She could still feel the heat of it against her skin.
 
She quickly lowered her loose white shorts and the soaked white panty in one motion, letting them pool around her ankles. Her pussy was completely exposed now — plump, puffy outer lips glistening with her arousal, the inner folds a deeper, wetter pink, slightly parted and shining. Her clit was swollen and erect, peeking out from its hood, throbbing visibly with every heartbeat. A thin string of her slick hung from her entrance, stretching downward before breaking and dripping onto the floor.
 
She sat down on the toilet seat, thighs spread, and let go.
 
The moment the warm piss started flowing, a sharp, unexpected shiver ran through her entire body. The stream was strong and steady, hissing against the porcelain, the heat of it cascading over her swollen clit and sensitive inner lips. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming — hot liquid rushing over already hypersensitive flesh, teasing every nerve ending, making her gasp and tremble. Her pussy clenched involuntarily around nothing, sending fresh sparks up her spine. Goosebumps exploded across her arms, thighs, and the undersides of her heavy breasts.
 
She looked incredibly sexy like this — sitting on the toilet with her shorts and panty around her ankles, legs spread wide, head tilted back, lips parted in a soft, surprised moan. Her milky-white skin glowed under the bathroom light, her heavy breasts rising and falling with each shaky breath, dark nipples still stiff and leaking tiny drops of milk that rolled down the curves. Her pussy was on full display — plump, dripping, the pink folds glistening with a mixture of her piss and arousal. The way her thighs trembled, the way her belly tightened with every pulse of pleasure, the way her toes curled against the floor — she looked like a woman lost in the most forbidden kind of ecstasy.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

She thought of Bhola’s cock again.
 
God… how huge it was. That thick, dark monster… so veiny, so heavy… I could still smell it when I pressed my face against it. That musky, masculine scent mixed with his precum… I wanted to taste it so badly. I wanted to wrap my lips around that fat head and feel it stretch my mouth open. I wanted it inside me. Deep. Hard. Filling me completely while he sucked my tits at the same time.
 
She tried to stop the thoughts.
 
She knew the dopamine was flooding her brain like sugar — the same way people eat ice cream too fast, desperate to make the sweetness last longer, only to finish it quicker. She tried to slow down, to push the filthy images away, but they kept coming back stronger. Her pussy clenched again as the last drops of piss trickled out, and she shivered with another wave of unknown joy.
 
She wiped herself slowly, almost caressingly, the toilet paper dragging over her swollen clit and making her bite her lip. Then she stood up, pulled her shorts and panty back up (the panty immediately soaking through again), and stepped out of the bathroom.
 
Ravi was already in the bedroom, taking off his watch.
 
“I’m going to take a quick bath,” he said, smiling at her.
 
Simran nodded, still a little dazed.
 
“I’ll go downstairs and ask Bhola to lay the table once dinner is ready.”
 
She went downstairs, her legs still slightly unsteady. The moment she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Bhola standing near the counter, arranging some plates. Without thinking, she walked straight up to him, reached out, and lifted the front of his kurta with one hand, exposing the crotch area of his pants.
 
The monster was still there — fully erect, straining obscenely against the fabric, the thick outline clearly visible, the head pushing hard against the waistband. A large wet spot of precum had soaked through.
 
Simran made a small concave with her left hand and gently pressed it against the bulge, feeling the incredible heat and hardness. She lifted it slightly upward, testing its weight, feeling how it throbbed against her palm.
 
Bhola tried to step back, but he was already pressed against the kitchen slab behind him. He looked at her with wide, surprised eyes.
 
Simran whispered, almost in awe:
“Ye kitna hard hai, Bhola…”
“It’s still so hard, Bhola…”
 
He swallowed, voice low.
 
“Ji Bhabhi… ye do ghanta baad hi jayega.”
“Yes, Bhabhi… it will go away after two hours only.”
 
Simran’s eyes darkened with lust and concern.
 
“Chinta mat karo…main kuch ahl nikalti hun.”
“Don’t worry… I will find a solution.”
 
She gripped the thick shaft through his pants for a moment — her small hand barely able to wrap around half of it — then released it with a shaky breath.
 
“”Table taiyaar kardo aur dinner ki taiyaari bhi,”
“Lay the table and prepare everything for dinner,” she said softly, stepping back.
 
Bhola nodded quickly, adjusting his kurta to hide the massive erection as best as he could.
 
Simran turned: her mind spinning with the feel of his cock still burning against her palm.
 
Simran stood in the kitchen, still flushed and breathing a little too fast after everything that had happened in Bhola’s room. Her loose shirt was slightly crooked, the top buttons still open, and the faint damp spots over her nipples were visible if anyone looked closely. She glanced toward the stairs, making sure Ravi was still upstairs, then turned to Bhola who was standing near the counter, trying to compose himself after the intense moment they had just shared.
 
She stepped closer, voice low and hurried.
 
“Bhola…aaj raat kisi tarah manage karo. Kal se, main zaroor kuch karungi. Vada karti hun.”
“Bhola… manage somehow tonight. From tomorrow, I will do something. I promise.”
 
Bhola nodded quietly, his eyes dark but respectful. He didn’t argue. He simply accepted her words with the same calm loyalty he always showed.
 
Simran gave him one last lingering look, then turned and walked upstairs, her loose shorts riding high on her thighs with every step.
 
When she entered the bedroom, Ravi was already out of the shower. He stood near the bed in just a towel around his waist, pulling clothes from the wardrobe and folding them neatly into his travel bag. He looked tired but focused, the way he always did before an important trip.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Simran walked over and immediately started helping him. She took a couple of shirts from his hands, folded them properly, and placed them inside the bag.
 
“You’re packing already?” she asked softly.
 
Ravi nodded. “Flight is at 7:30 AM. I need to leave the house by 5:00 to reach the airport on time. Traffic can be unpredictable.”
 
Simran helped him arrange his laptop charger, documents, and a spare formal shirt.
 
“Then you have to wake up very early,” she said, trying to sound normal. “Should I set an alarm for you?”
 
Ravi smiled and kissed her forehead.
 
“Don’t worry. I’ll set it. But yes, I’ll need to leave around 5.”
 
They worked together in comfortable silence for the next thirty minutes, folding clothes, checking if he had everything he needed. When the bag was finally zipped, Ravi looked at her.
 
“Should we ask for dinner now? I’m getting hungry.”
 
Simran nodded. “I’ll go down and tell Bhola to serve it.”
 
They had a quiet dinner at the dining table — simple dal, roti, sabzi, and curd that Bhola had prepared. Ravi ate quickly, still thinking about the meeting the next day. Simran tried to focus on the food, but her mind kept drifting downstairs to Bhola and everything that had happened earlier. Her breasts felt heavy again, her pussy still faintly throbbing from the earlier denial and the memory of his massive cock.
 
After dinner, as Bhola cleared the table, Ravi looked at him.
 
“Bhola, be ready by 5:30 tomorrow morning. You’ll have to drive me to the airport.”
 
Bhola nodded without hesitation.
 
“Koi baat nehi Sahib. Main sab kuch taiyaar kar dunga 5 baje tak. Aapke breakfast ke liye kuch pack bhi kar du?”
“No problem, Sahib. I will make everything ready by 5. Will you carry something for breakfast?”
 
Ravi shook his head.
 
“Zarurat nehi. Flight mein hi mil jayega.”
“No need. It will be catered for in the flight.”
 
Simran, who had been quiet, finally spoke up.
 
“Jasleen and Rajiv (her husband) will be there in Bangalore. Will you get time to meet them? Should I inform them?”
 
Ravi thought for a moment.
 
“Let me finish my meeting first. Let’s see. If I’m able to take out some time, then it’s better to inform them. Otherwise they will feel bad that I came to Bangalore and left without meeting them.”
 
Simran nodded.
 
“True.”
 
 
After dinner, the house settled into its usual quiet rhythm. Ravi went upstairs early to sleep, wanting to be fresh for the early flight. Simran stayed downstairs for a while, pretending to watch something on TV, but her mind was elsewhere.
 
She didn’t go to Bhola again that night.
 
She was too excited — almost nervous — about the next day. Tomorrow Ravi would be gone for at least one full night. The house would be empty except for her and Bhola. No one to hide from. No footsteps on the stairs to fear. The thought made her heart race and her body heat up all over again. She could already imagine the possibilities — being able to let Bhola suck her freely, without rushing, without the constant fear of being caught.
 
She went upstairs around 11:30 PM, changed into her nightie, and slipped into bed beside Ravi. He was already asleep. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her hand resting lightly on her lower belly as her mind played out filthy scenarios for the next day.
 
She didn’t go down to get milked again that night.
 
She wanted to save it. She wanted to be full and aching for Bhola tomorrow when the house was finally theirs.
 
Sleep came slowly, filled with anticipation and dark excitement.
 
The alarm went off at 4:45 AM. Ravi got up quickly, showered, and came downstairs dressed in his travel clothes. Bhola was already waiting, car keys in hand, the car parked outside and ready.
 
Simran came down a few minutes later in her nightie, still sleepy but trying to look awake. She gave Ravi a quick hug and kiss.
 
“Safe flight. Call me when you reach.”
 
Ravi smiled, gave her a tight hug, and walked out with Bhola.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Bhola opened the car door for him, loaded the bag in the trunk, and got into the driver’s seat. The car pulled away from the house as the first light of dawn touched the sky.
 
Simran stood at the door, watching the taillights disappear down the street.
 
The house was now completely empty except for her and the man who had been waiting downstairs.
 
She closed the door slowly, heart beating faster.
 
The real day was about to begin.
 
Simran stood at the main door, watching the car slowly pull away down the driveway. Ravi waved from the passenger seat, and she waved back with a small, forced smile. Bhola was in the driver’s seat, his silhouette visible through the window, and she felt a strange flutter in her belly as the car turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
 
She closed the door softly and leaned against it for a long moment, the house suddenly feeling much larger and quieter than it had just minutes ago. The silence pressed in on her. She walked back upstairs slowly, her bare feet quiet on the steps, and slipped back into the bedroom.
 
She lay down on the bed, pulling the sheet over herself, hoping to catch a little more sleep before the day truly began. But sleep refused to come.
 
The moment her head touched the pillow, her mind betrayed her. It went straight back to Bhola’s room. To the moment his pants came down. To the sight of that huge, magnificent cock that had been hidden between his legs all this while — dangling invisibly, waiting, heavy and thick even when soft.
 
She could see it so clearly in her memory: dark, thick as her wrist, heavily veined, the swollen head glistening with a bead of precum. The way it had sprung free with such force, slapping heavily against her chin and open mouth. The way it had looked so powerful, so aggressive, so much bigger than anything she had ever imagined. The heavy balls hanging low beneath it, full and pendulous, swaying slightly with his heartbeat.
 
How is something like that even possible? she thought, turning onto her side and pressing her thighs together.
 
All these days he has been sucking my tits, carrying me, holding me… and that monster was there, hanging between his legs, hidden, waiting. How did I never notice how big it was?
 
The words Bhola had said kept ringing in her ears like a dangerous promise:
 
“It will go after 2 hours or so…”
 
Two hours. That massive thing stayed hard for two whole hours. The thought made her pussy clench hard. She imagined him walking around the house with that heavy erection, the thick shaft swinging heavily in his pants, leaking precum, waiting for her. She imagined touching it again, feeling its heat, its weight, its impossible girth in her small hand.
 
How do I tame it? How do I even begin to handle something like that? It’s so big… it would stretch me open so wide. Would it even fit? Would it hurt? Or would it feel so good I lose my mind? I want to love it. I want to worship it. I want to make it mine. I want to ride this monster while he sucks my tits at the same time. I want to feel it stretching me open, filling me completely.
 
The fear and fascination mixed together in a dangerous cocktail.
 
What if it hurts? What if it doesn’t fit? What if I can’t take all of it? But… what if I can? What if I let him fuck me with that monster while he drinks from my breasts? What if he breeds me with it?
 
She squeezed her thighs tighter, trying to fight the growing need, but her hand unconsciously slid down her body, resting on her lower belly, fingers twitching with the urge to touch herself.
 
She was terrified.
 
She was exhilarated.
 
She was completely obsessed.
 
And sleep remained far, far away.
 
The house was quiet.
 
Ravi was gone.
 
Gone for the night.
 
Simran turned onto her stomach, pressing her aching breasts into the mattress, trying to smother the need. But it only made it worse. Her mind kept going back to that moment — the way the cock had sprung free, the way it had slapped against her face, the way it had looked so dark and powerful against her fair skin.
 
She was afraid of how much she wanted it.
 
She was afraid of how badly she needed to feel it.
 
She was afraid of what it would do to her marriage if she let herself have it.
 
But the desire was winning.
 
She lay there for a long time, unable to sleep, her body hot and restless, her mind replaying the sight and scent of Bhola’s magnificent cock again and again.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Simran lay on her back in the middle of the large bed, the soft mattress cradling her body as the morning light filtered through the curtains. She was wearing the nightie. The hem had ridden up high on her creamy thighs, barely covering the lower curve of her plump ass cheeks. Her dark nipples pressed visibly against the thin fabric, two faint damp circles already forming where fresh milk was slowly leaking.
 
She looked incredibly sexy — dripping with raw, unfiltered sex.
 
Her long dark hair was spread messily across the pillow, a few strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, still swollen from earlier, and her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. The way her heavy breasts strained against the shirt, the way her thick, milky-white thighs pressed together restlessly, the way her hips shifted every few seconds as if seeking friction — everything about her screamed pure, aching need. A thin sheen of sweat made her skin glow, and the unmistakable scent of her arousal lingered faintly in the air around her.
 
She was fighting her inner turmoils with everything she had.
 
What if anyone finds out? The thought hit her like a cold wave.
 
Ravi would be devastated. He trusts me completely. If he ever knew that I let Bhola suck my tits… that I came on his mouth… that I tasted my own milk from his lips… he would never forgive me. I’m destroying everything. I’m a terrible wife.
 
But her inner demon was stronger today.
 
It immediately flooded her mind with the image of Bhola’s massive cock — that dark, thick, veiny monster that had sprung free and slapped heavily against her face. She could see it so clearly: the way it hung heavy and long, thicker than her wrist, the fat head glistening, the heavy balls swaying below. The masculine scent of it still lingered in her memory — musky, potent, intoxicating. Her pussy clenched hard at the thought, a fresh gush of slick soaking into her panty.
 
The demon whispered hotly:
 
Look at what you have. That huge, powerful cock was right in front of you. You felt its heat. You smelled its aroma. You want it so badly. Stop worrying about Ravi. Stop pretending you’re a good little wife. You’re a woman with needs. And Bhola can give you everything you crave. Let him fuck you with that monster while he sucks your tits dry. Let him breed you. You know you want it.
 
Simran squeezed her thighs together tightly, trying to fight the growing ache. Her hand unconsciously slid down her belly, stopping just above the waistband of her panty. She could feel how wet she was, how her clit throbbed with every heartbeat. Her breasts felt heavier than ever, milk leaking steadily now, the wet spots on her shirt growing larger and more obvious.
 
She turned onto her side, pressing her face into the pillow, trying to push the filthy images away.
 
This is wrong… I can’t keep doing this…
 
But the demon laughed softly in her head and showed her the image again — Bhola’s gigantic cock, thick, veiny, and throbbing, pointing straight at her open mouth.
 
Her pussy throbbed harder. She whimpered quietly into the pillow, her body betraying her completely.
 
She was dripping with sex — physically and mentally — lying there in her loose clothes, fighting a losing battle against the overwhelming desire that had taken root inside her.
 
Simran sat up on the bed, her body still heavy with the afterglow of everything that had happened downstairs. Bhola had not yet returned from driving Ravi to the airport, and the house felt strangely empty and full of possibility at the same time.
 
She didn’t hesitate.
 
She stood up right there beside the bed and peeled off her nightie in one fluid motion. The fabric whispered down her body and pooled at her feet, leaving her completely naked in the soft morning light. Her skin was still slightly flushed from earlier, a faint sheen of sweat and arousal making her glow. Her heavy breasts hung full and ripe, the dark nipples stiff and leaking slow, glistening trails of milk that ran down the smooth curves and dripped from the tips. Her belly was soft and feminine, the deep navel catching a tiny bead of sweat. Below that, her pussy was visibly swollen and wet — the plump outer lips puffy and glistening, the inner folds a deeper pink, slick with her juices. Her clit peeked out, swollen and sensitive. Her ass looked even more delicious from the side — round, firm, heart-shaped perfection that jiggled softly as she moved.
 
She looked extremely delicious. Ready to eat. Like a ripe, fertile fruit waiting to be devoured.
 
Simran stretched her arms high above her head, rising onto her tiptoes, her back arching naturally. Her breasts lifted with the motion, nipples pointing upward, milk beading even more at the tips. The stretch made her belly tighten and her ass cheeks clench, the movement accentuating every curve of her body. She let out a soft, satisfied sigh, then tip-toed gracefully toward the bathroom, completely naked, her hips swaying with each step.
 
She closed the bathroom door behind her and turned on the shower. Warm water cascaded over her body. She stood under the spray, humming a soft, absent-minded tune, letting the water run down her neck, between her heavy breasts, over her soft belly, and between her thighs. The water mixed with the milk leaking from her nipples and the slick dripping from her pussy, creating rivulets that ran down her legs.
 
After about fifteen minutes, while she was still humming and rinsing her hair, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door. The door, which she hadn’t locked properly, clicked open slightly.
 
Bhola’s voice came through the gap.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

 
“Bhabhi…”
 
Simran turned off the water and wrapped a towel around herself quickly.
“Yes, Bhola? What happened?”
 
He spoke calmly from the other side of the slightly open door.
 
“Bhabhi… aapke chuchiyon ko choosne ka time ho gaya hai.”
“Bhabhi… it’s time to suck your boobs.”
 
Simran’s breath caught. She smiled to herself, a mix of surprise and amusement.
 
“Pata hai,” she called back, voice slightly husky. “Tum neeche jao. Main ek minute mein aa jaungi.”
“I know,” she called back, voice slightly husky. “You go downstairs. I’ll come in a minute.”
 
Bhola’s footsteps retreated down the corridor.
 
Simran stood under the shower a little longer, letting the water beat against her skin. She thought to herself:
 
This guy openly asks me to suck my boobs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I have to tell him to be careful when someone might be around. But… God, the way he says it so innocently… it makes me wet every single time.
 
She smiled to herself, turned off the shower, and stepped out.
 
She dried herself slowly, then walked back into the bedroom still naked. She chose something deliberately sexy and easy for Bhola to access: a beach-type kameez in soft coral pink — extremely low-cut, with only thin strings for shoulders and a plunging neckline that showed a massive amount of her sexy cleavage. The side cuts went all the way up to her upper waist, making her side boobs easily visible and accessible. The kameez ended high on her thighs, barely covering her ass. Underneath she wore only a tiny red thong, the waistband deliberately visible whenever she moved. Her hair was left dishevelled and slightly damp, falling in messy waves around her shoulders.
 
She looked very sexy — dangerously so. The outfit screamed availability. Her target was clear: make Bhola’s hardness go away through some means, whatever it took.
 
She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up her phone, starting to search online: “how to relieve persistent erection” and “what to do when a man stays hard for hours”.
 
Her mind was already racing ahead.
 
Simran was still sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, when she heard Bhola’s footsteps on the stairs. She quickly locked the screen and placed the phone aside just as he appeared at the open door, holding a glass of warm milk mixed with the usual Jeevdhatu powder.
 
“Bhabhi, ye lijiye,” he said softly, stepping inside. “Doodh pi lijiye… aur mujhe bhi peene dijiye.”
“Bhabhi, take this,” he said softly, stepping inside. “Please drink this milk… and let me also drink your milk.”
 
The words were so innocent, so to the point, yet they landed like pure filth in the quiet room. Simran felt a fresh rush of heat between her legs. She couldn’t help but laugh — a soft, surprised, slightly nervous laugh that made her heavy breasts jiggle under the loose shirt.
 
“Bhola… tum sach mein aise bolte ho,” she said, taking the glass from him, her cheeks warm. “Tum mujhse phir se peena chahte ho already?”
“Bhola… you really say it like that,” she said, taking the glass from him, her cheeks warm. “You want to drink from me again already?”
 
Bhola smiled shyly but honestly.
 
“Haan Bhabhi… aapka doodh bahut swadist hai. Main ise roz peeta hoon toh mujhe bahut takat milti hai. Aapki chuchiyan itni bhari hui rehti hain… main unhe khali kiye bina chain nahi milta.”
“Yes Bhabhi… your milk is very tasty. I drink it every day so I get a lot of strength. Your boobs stay so full… I don’t feel at peace until I empty them.”
 
Simran took a sip of the milk, her eyes flicking down to the obvious bulge still straining in his pants. She could see the wet spot from his precum had grown larger.
 
“Tumne meri short aur shirt dhone ko de di?”
“You gave my short and shirt for washing?” she asked, trying to change the subject slightly while her mind kept replaying the sight of his massive cock.
 
“Haan Bhabhi,” he replied, standing close. “Woh dono kapde doodh se aur paseene se geele ho gaye the. Main dho deta hoon. Bhabhi… bathroom se nightie aur panty bhi le lu? Main usko bhi saaf kar dunga.”
“Yes Bhabhi,” he replied, standing close. “Those two clothes had become wet with milk and sweat. I will wash them. Bhabhi… should I also take the nightie and panty from the bathroom? I will clean them too.”
 
Simran’s face flushed deeper. She shifted on the bed, feeling the dampness between her thighs.
 
“Panty is not there.”
“Panty Nahi hai waha,” she said quietly.
 
Bhola went to the bathroom and picked up the nightie but couldn’t find the panty; looked confused for a few seconds, then his expression cleared.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Ohh… aapne panty nahi pehni thi?” he asked, voice still completely innocent but the words themselves filthy in context. “Garmi bahut hai na? Main samajh sakta hun, Bhabhi. Aapki chuchiyan itni bhari hui rehti hain, pura sharir garam ho jata hoga.”
“Ohh… you didn’t wear any panty?” he asked, voice still completely innocent but the words themselves filthy in context. “It’s very hot, right? I can understand, Bhabhi. Your boobs stay so full, your whole body must get hot.”
 
Simran’s pussy throbbed at his casual words. She pressed her thighs together, trying to hide how wet she was getting again.
 
“You go downstairs,” she said, voice a little shaky. “I’ll come after drinking the milk.”
“Tum niche jao,” she said, voice a little shaky. “Main doodh peeke aati hun.”
 
Bhola nodded, but before he turned to leave, he gave her one last look — his eyes flicking to the wet spots on her shirt over her nipples.
 
“Jaldi se pi lijiye, Bhabhi,” he added softly.
“Hurry up and drink it, Bhabhi,” he added softly.

He put his hands under her boobs slightly and flicked them upwards lsightly and said,
 
“Aapki chuchiyan bahut full lag rahi hain. Kal raat ko aapne peene nehi diya na, isliye abhi full ho gayi hai. Aap jaldi aajaiye… main turant dono ko achhe se khaali kar dunga.”
“Your boobs look very full. You didn’t let me drink last night, right? That’s why they are so full now. Come quickly… I will empty both of them properly right away.”
 
Simran’s breath hitched. She could only nod, unable to form a reply as he finally turned and went downstairs.
 
She sat there for a moment longer, glass in hand, mind spinning with his filthy-yet-innocent words. The way he talked about her breasts so openly, so naturally, made her feel both embarrassed and unbearably aroused.
 
She took a long sip of the milk, her free hand unconsciously moving to cup one of her heavy breasts through the shirt, feeling how full and tender they still were.
 
Simran finished the glass of milk Bhola had brought her, the warm liquid sliding down her throat while her mind was still spinning from everything that had happened downstairs. She placed the empty glass on the bedside table, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and called out softly but clearly:
 
“Bhola… saamne ka darwaza bandh kardo aur upar aajao. Meri doodh yahin aake piyo aaj.”
“Bhola… close the front door and come upstairs. Come drink my milk here today.”
 
Her voice carried a quiet authority mixed with something darker — a clear invitation to her own bedroom, the same place where it had all started on that fateful stormy night when the breast pump got stuck. This was only the second time she was calling him into the marital bed.
 
Bhola appeared at the bedroom door within a minute. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft click. The moment his eyes landed on Simran, he stopped.
 
She was kneeling on the bed, legs spread wide apart, sitting back on her heels. Her loose white kameez was completely down, bunched at her waist like a forgotten robe. With both hands she cupped her heavy, swollen breasts from below, lifting them up and gently shaking them toward him — an open, shameless invitation. The dark, leaking nipples pointed straight at him, milk already beading at the tips and rolling down the creamy undersides in slow, shiny trails. Her shorts had ridden up high on her thick thighs, the crotch visibly darkened with her arousal. Her hair was messy, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with lust.
 
It was such an erotic, obscene sight — the married woman on her knees in her own bedroom, offering her leaking tits to the servant like a bitch in heat.
 
Bhola’s breath caught. His cock, already half-hard again, twitched visibly in his pants as he stared at her.
 
He started climbing onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress, moving toward her like a man in a trance.
 
Simran’s eyes dropped to his crotch and she suddenly raised one hand.
 
“Ruko.”
“Stop.”
 
Bhola froze on all fours on the bed.
 
She looked him straight in the eyes, voice low but firm.
 
“Tum underwear kyun pehen rakhe ho? Jab tum mere saath akela hote ho, toh zaroorat nahi hai pehenne ki.”
“Why are you wearing underwear? When you are alone with me, you need not wear it.”
 
Bhola looked embarrassed, shifting awkwardly.
 
“Nehi Bhabhi, rehne dijiye…”
“No Bhabhi, it’s okay…”
 
Simran shook her head, her heavy breasts swaying with the movement.
 
“No. Abhi apni pant utaar do. Aur apna underwear bhi utaar do. Tumhara wohh… pareshan karega.”
“No. Take off your pants now. And take off your underwear. Your that thing… will trouble you.”
 
She was too shy to say the word “dick” or “cock,” but the meaning was crystal clear.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Bhola hesitated for a few seconds, cheeks burning. But Simran’s gaze was steady and commanding. Slowly, he stood up on the bed, unbuttoned his pants, and pushed them down to his ankles. He was still wearing his white underwear, the fabric stretched obscenely tight over the massive, thick bulge. The outline of his heavy cock and the fat head was impossible to miss.
 
Simran stared, biting her lower lip.
 
“Haan…Utaaro underwear apna.”
“Yes… take off your underwear.”
 
After a few more seconds of shy hesitation, Bhola hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slowly lowered the underwear down to his ankles.
 
His massive cock sprang free, swinging heavily between his legs like a thick, dark pendulum. It was still soft but already enormous — easily eight inches long even flaccid, thick as Simran’s wrist, with a slight downward curve and heavy, low-hanging balls swinging beneath it. The dark skin, prominent veins, and the fat, bulbous head made it look like a living weapon.
 
Simran’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in awe.
 
She pointed to the chair near the bed.
 
“Dono pant aur underwear utha lo aur wahan chair par rakh do.”
“Pick up both pant and underwear and keep them on the chair there.”
 
Bhola, still confused but obedient, stepped out of his clothes, picked them up, and placed them neatly on the chair.
 
Simran looked at his naked lower body — the thick, heavy cock dangling between his strong thighs — and said softly:
 
“Abhi mere saath ho to koi baat nahi… pant baad mein pehenna.”
“Now that you are with me it’s okay… you can wear the pant later.”
 
Bhola’s cock twitched visibly at her words, starting to thicken and lift even as he stood there.
 
Simran couldn’t take her eyes off it. The sight was mesmerizing — the way it hung heavy and full, the dark skin, the veins, the way it swayed with his slightest movement. She was dripping again, her soaked panty clinging to her swollen pussy lips.
 
She looked up at his face, her voice soft but firm.
 
“Jab tak aise nahi aoge… mera doodh nahi milega.”
“Until you come like this… you won’t get my milk.”
 
She lifted both her heavy breasts with her hands, shaking them gently toward him, the leaking nipples pointing straight at his mouth.
 
“Ab jaldi aao aur piyo.”
“Now come fast and drink.”
 
Bhola’s eyes darkened with hunger. He climbed onto the bed again, moving toward her on his knees, his thick, heavy cock swinging between his legs like a thick, dark snake ready to strike.
 
Bhola crawled onto the bed like a hungry animal, his knees sinking into the mattress as he moved toward her. His huge, soft cock swung heavily between his thick thighs, thick as her wrist even when not hard, the dark shaft swaying and slapping lightly against his balls with every forward movement. The fat head bobbed, still glistening from the precum that had leaked earlier. It looked obscene — a heavy, dark monster hanging low, not yet fully erect but already promising destruction.
 
Simran sat back on her heels, legs spread wide, breathing fast. She watched that swinging cock with wide, hungry eyes, her pussy clenching hard at the sight.
 
He reached her and didn’t waste time. His rough hands hooked under the thin strings of her kameez and yanked them down her shoulders in one rough motion. Both heavy, milk-filled breasts spilled out completely — full, round, and already leaking. Thick white drops rolled down the undersides and dripped from her dark, puffy nipples.
 
“Bhabhi… dekhiye in bade-bade, tapakte hue chuchiyon ko,” Bhola growled low, voice thick with need. “Mere liye itne meethe doodh se bhare hue… aaj main har boond pee jaunga.”
“Bhabhi… look at these big, leaking tits,” Bhola growled low, voice thick with need. “So full of sweet milk for me… I’m going to drink every drop today.”
 
He lowered his head and latched onto her left tit like a starving man. His mouth sealed tight around the nipple and a big chunk of soft flesh, sucking hard and deep. The first powerful pull made milk jet straight into his mouth in thick, creamy streams. Simran threw her head back and moaned loudly, a raw, filthy sound echoing in the bedroom.
 
“Aaahhh… Bhola… oh fuck… yes…”
 
Each strong suck made her gasp and whimper. Her hands flew to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him harder against her breast even as she tried to stay in control.
 
Bhola sucked like he owned her. Loud, wet, greedy slurps filled the room as he drank. Milk spilled from the corners of his lips, running down his chin and dripping onto her belly. He switched to the right tit without warning, latching on even harder, squeezing the left one roughly with his hand, milking it downward so more milk sprayed out.
 
Simran was losing it.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Bhola… thora dheere, baby… itna zor se mat kheench… ahhh fuck… tum itna zor se choos rahe ho…”
“Bhola… try to be gentle, baby… itna zor se mat kheech… ahhh fuck… you’re sucking so hard…”
 
But Bhola didn’t care. He growled against her nipple, the vibration sending shocks straight to her clit.
 
“Gentle? Nahin, Bhabhi… yeh bade-bade, rasile chuchiyan aaj mere hain. Main inhe poora khaali kar dunga. Dekhiye kitna doodh mere liye nikal raha hai… aapki chuchiyon se fuware ki tarah doodh tapak rahi hain.”
“Gentle? No, Bhabhi… these big, juicy tits are mine tonight. I’m going to empty them completely. Look how much milk is coming out for me… your whore tits are leaking milk like fountains.”
 
He sucked a massive mouthful of warm milk from her right breast, cheeks hollowed, then suddenly pulled off with a wet pop. Milk sprayed across his face. He grabbed her by the back of the neck, yanked her forward, and crushed his mouth against hers in a deep, filthy kiss.
 
Simran moaned into his mouth as he pushed the thick, creamy milk straight onto her tongue. She tasted herself — sweet, warm, slightly salty — mixed with his spit. She kissed him back hungrily, sucking the milk from his tongue, swallowing greedily while her hands gripped his shoulders.
 
“Mmmph… fuck, Bhola… mera apna doodh tumhare muh se kitna accha lag raha hai…”
“Mmmph… fuck, Bhola… my own milk tastes so good from your mouth…”
 
He broke the kiss, strings of milk and saliva connecting their lips, and dove straight back to her left tit. He sucked even harder this time, squeezing both breasts roughly, making them spray milk everywhere.
 
“Aur do, Bhabhi… apna doodh aur do,” he mumbled around her nipple, voice muffled and filthy. “Main tab tak peeta rahunga jab tak aapki chuchiyan bilkul khali na ho jaayen… phir main aapko muh mein bhar dunga.”
“More, Bhabhi… give me more of your milk,” he mumbled around her nipple, voice muffled and filthy. “I want to drink till your tits are dry… then I’ll fill your mouth.”
 
Simran was moaning nonstop now, holding his head with both hands, hips grinding uselessly in the air.
 
“Haan… sab pee lo, Bhola… choos lo meri badi-badi milky boobs… inhe aapne liye khali kar do…”
“Yes… drink it all, Bhola… suck my big milky tits… make them empty for you…”
 
He pulled off again, mouth full, and kissed her hard a second time. This time he pushed even more milk into her mouth, making her swallow noisily while his tongue fucked her lips. Simran kissed him back like a desperate slut, moaning and sucking on his tongue, tasting herself on him.
 
When he finally broke away, both of them were breathing hard, lips shiny with milk and spit.
 
Bhola looked down at her flushed face, his heavy cock now starting to thicken and lift between his legs.
 
“Aur chahiye, Bhabhi?” he asked, voice rough. “Aapki chuchiyon mein mere liye abhi bhi bahut saara baaki hai…”
“More, Bhabhi?” he asked, voice rough. “Your tits still have so much left for me…”
 
Simran could only nod, eyes glassy with lust, already lifting her leaking breasts toward his mouth again.
 
Simran cried out in pure ecstasy, her back arching sharply as Bhola sucked her tit like a savage animal. Her voice broke into loud, shameless moans that filled the sunlit bedroom.
 
“Bhola… kya ho gaya hai tujhe aaj… tu… tu toh bilkul jaanwar ban gaya hai… ahhh fuck… aur do mujhe… aur doodh pi le meri chuchiyon ka…”
“Bhola… what has happened to you today… you… you have become a complete animal… ahhh fuck… give me more… drink more milk from my boobs…”
 
Bhola didn’t answer with words. He just sucked harder, cheeks hollowing deeply, drawing a massive mouthful of thick, warm milk from her right breast. Then he suddenly pulled off with a loud, wet pop, milk spraying across her chest. He grabbed the back of her neck roughly and smashed his mouth against hers in a deep, filthy kiss.
 
Simran moaned into his mouth as he pushed the hot, creamy milk straight onto her tongue. Their tongues met for the first time — sliding, twisting, tasting her own sweet milk mixed with his spit. Something electric happened in that moment. The kiss turned messy, hungry, almost desperate. Milk and saliva dribbled down their chins as they devoured each other.
 
Bhola’s cock was now super erect — rock-hard, thick, and standing straight up like an iron rod, the fat head angry and dark, veins pulsing visibly. Every time he leaned in to kiss her deeper, the massive shaft poked hard into her soft belly, the hot, throbbing head leaving sticky trails of precum on her skin.
 
Simran’s eyes flew open mid-kiss. She pulled back sharply, breathing hard, and yanked his t-shirt up with both hands.
 
The monster sprang into view — huge, dark, and terrifyingly hard, pointing straight up toward her face, the thick shaft twitching with every heartbeat. It looked even bigger in the morning light, the heavy balls hanging low and full beneath it.
 
Simran stared, mouth open, completely mesmerized.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

She quickly grabbed both his wrists to stop him from covering it again, then slid her right hand underneath the massive cock, cradling it from below in a soft concave. The weight and heat of it made her gasp.
 
“Bhola… ye itna bada hai…”
“Bhola… this is so big…”, she whispered, voice shaking with lust.
 
Bhola looked embarrassed, trying to pull back.
 
“Bhabhi… sorry… ye har baar aisa ho jata hai…”
“Bhabhi… sorry… this happens every time…”
 
“Shhh…” Simran hushed him, gently stroking the underside with her fingers, feeling the thick veins pulse against her palm. “Ye to itna bada hai ki… ki main samajh nahi paa rahi ki isko kaise handle karun…”
“Shhh…” Simran hushed him, gently stroking the underside with her fingers, feeling the thick veins pulse against her palm. “This is so big that… I am unable to understand that how to handle this …”
 
She swallowed hard, eyes still glued to the monstrous dick in her hand.
 
“Bhola… ise tum lund kehte ho?”
“Bhola…do you call this lund?”
 
“Ji Bhabhi… lund,” he answered shyly.
 
Simran’s voice turned soft but filthy, full of dark hunger.
 
“Bhola tu chinta mat kar… main tujhe aaram dungi. Pehle meri godi mein so ja aur doodh peeta reh. Main ise sehlake thik kar dungi.”
“Bhola, don’t worry… I’ll give you comfort. First lie in my lap and keep drinking milk. I’ll stroke it and make it fine.”
 
Bhola’s eyes widened, but he obeyed instantly. He lay down on the bed and placed his head on her soft, naked lap. The position was obscene — his face right under her heavy, leaking tits, his massive, rock-hard lund standing straight up like a thick dark pole between his legs.
 
Simran looked down at him, her voice dripping with lust.
 
“Ab pi le meri chuchiyan… aur main tera lund sehlaungi.”
“Now drink from my boobs… and I’ll stroke your cock.”
 
Bhola didn’t waste a second. He turned his head, licked one leaking nipple slowly, sending a strong current straight through her body, then latched on hard and started sucking again like a hungry calf.
 
Simran moaned loudly, one hand holding his head to her breast, the other reaching down to wrap around his massive, throbbing lund. She stared at it in awe — so hard, so veiny, so fucking huge — while Bhola drank greedily from her tits.
 
The morning sun lit up the filthy scene perfectly.
 
Bhola attacked Simran’s heavy, milk-swollen breasts like a hungry cub going after its mother’s udders — wild, desperate, and completely shameless. His mouth latched onto her left tit with savage force, sucking so hard that her entire breast stretched forward into his hungry lips. Loud, wet, filthy slurping sounds filled the sunlit room as thick streams of sweet milk jetted straight down his throat.
 
“Aaahhh Bhola… aaahhh fuck…” Simran moaned loudly, her voice breaking into raw, slutty whimpers. “Kitna zor se choos raha hai tu… meri chuchiyan phaad dega kya aaj…”
“Aaahhh Bhola… aaahhh fuck…” Simran moaned loudly, her voice breaking into raw, slutty whimpers. “You’re sucking so hard… are you going to tear my boobs apart today…”
 
With every brutal suck, the monster cock between Bhola’s legs grew even harder. The thick veins bulged out more and more, pulsing visibly along the dark, veiny shaft like ropes under the skin. His heavy balls tightened as he involuntarily pushed his ass up into the air, hips thrusting helplessly into nothing, fucking the open space like he was imagining pounding her tight pussy.
 
Simran’s right hand finally slid down and touched the monster.
 
“Hayee maa…” she gasped, eyes wide.
 
Her small fingers couldn’t even wrap around half of it at first. The girth was insane — thicker than her wrist, hot, throbbing, and rock-hard. She adjusted her grip, using both hands now, and still her fingers didn’t meet. The massive lund felt like a thick, burning iron bar in her palms.
 
A fat goblet of thick, white precum had formed at the swollen tip, glistening obscenely. It was creamy and heavy, something she had never seen before in her life — not with Ravi, not in any porn. It looked almost like a pearl of pure lust ready to drip down the shaft.
 
Simran licked her lips hungrily, staring at it while Bhola kept sucking her tits like a maniac. He was grunting and growling against her nipple, switching between both breasts, squeezing and mauling them roughly, making her squirm in a delicious mix of pain and ecstasy.
 
She started stroking him slowly — long, firm strokes from base to head, her soft hands gliding over the veiny monster. The more she stroked, the thicker and harder it became, until it reached its full, terrifying size. It was now so massive that she needed both hands just to cover the shaft, the fat purple head leaking more and more thick precum with every upward stroke.
 
Bhola made deep, animal grunting sounds around her nipple.
 
Simran’s voice came out shaky and filthy.