The Googly
Ravi’s mouth latched eagerly onto Simran’s left nipple, sucking with gentle pulls at first—warm, sweet milk flooding his tongue in steady streams. Simran moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair, arching into him as relief washed over her.
“Aaahhh… yes… like that…” she whispered, eyes half-closed.
For the first five minutes it was perfect—intimate, loving, the milk creamy and faintly sweet, easing the ache in her swollen breasts. Ravi swallowed greedily, switching sides, hands cupping the heavy globes to coax more flow.
But then—slowly—the taste shifted. A bitterness crept in, subtle at first, then sharper, coating his tongue like over-steeped herbs. His stomach twisted; the warmth turned sour. He pulled back slightly, brow furrowing.
“Jaan… give me a minute…” he murmured, voice hoarse.
He stood quickly, heading to the bathroom sink—rinsing his mouth thoroughly, spitting, gargling with water until the bitterness faded. Staring at his reflection, he felt a wave of awkwardness crash over him. “What the hell? It’s her milk… my wife’s… and I can’t even…” Guilt twisted in his gut with embarrassment.
He returned, sitting beside her again.
“Sorry… let me try again.”
He leaned in, mouth closing over her nipple once more—but the resistance was immediate, involuntary. His throat tightened, body rebelling even as his mind urged him on. The bitterness lingered in memory, making him gag slightly. He pulled back, frustrated.
“Simran… what is exactly happening here? The taste… it turned bitter. I can’t…”
Simran’s eyes softened, no judgment—just understanding. She cupped his face.
“Don’t worry… it’s okay. Maybe it’s the hormones or something. Let’s continue… just don’t suck if you don’t feel like. Touch me… kiss me…”
Ravi’s heart ached—he felt bad, inadequate but desperate to make it right. The sight of her—breasts leaking, body flushed, needing him—ignited something fierce. He couldn’t give her one kind of relief, but he could give her another.
He pushed her gently back onto the pillows, kissing down her neck, her collarbone, avoiding the breasts for now. His mouth trailed lower—over her belly, hips—until he settled between her thighs, pushing the dress up to her waist.
Simran gasped as his lips found her pussy—already slick, swollen lips parting under his tongue. He licked slowly at first—long, flat strokes from entrance to clit—tasting her arousal, sweet and musky.
“Aaahhh…” she moaned, hips lifting.
Ravi dove deeper—tongue circling her clit in tight, fluttering spirals, then sucking gently, the way he knew drove her wild. Two fingers slid inside her—curling, stroking that sensitive front wall—while his mouth worked relentlessly: suck… flick… suck… flick…
“Mmmphhh… Ravi… yes… aaaahhh…” Simran’s moans rose, hands clutching his hair, thighs trembling around his head.
He added a third finger—stretching her, pumping faster—the wet squelch of her pussy loud in the room, her juices coating his chin. His tongue lashed her clit without mercy—quick, hard flicks that made her body jerk.
“Aaaahhh… oh god… don’t stop… aaaahhh!”
The orgasm hit her hard—back arching off the bed, pussy clenching around his fingers in rhythmic spasms, a fresh gush of arousal flooding his mouth. She cried out— “AAAAHHHH… coming… aaaahhh!” —body shaking, thighs squeezing his head as wave after wave rolled through her.
Ravi licked her through it—slow, gentle now—until she collapsed, panting, legs limp.
Simran pulled him up, kissing him deeply—tasting herself on his lips.
“Thank you… that was… perfect.”
She smiled softly, still breathless.
“You go down and watch some TV. I’ll be there soon.”
Ravi kissed her forehead, reluctant but understanding. He headed downstairs, mind swirling.
Simran slipped into the bathroom—closing the door, leaning against it, breasts still leaking faintly, body humming with afterglow and unanswered questions.
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