Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Chapter 2

 

The point of No Return

 
The rain had come down like the sky itself had split open. All night it poured—relentless, angry sheets of water that turned Chandigarh’s roads into black rivers. By 9:30 PM the Mohali service road was gone, flooded so deep that three cars had already been abandoned, water rising inside their cabins, headlights flickering out like dying stars. Ravi had tried—driven as far as he could—but the warnings from those who’d gone before him were clear: turn back or lose the car.
 
He pulled into the office parking lot, engine idling, phone pressed to his ear. The call connected after five rings.
 
Simran was on the sofa, and she pushed Bhola down to the floor and ran upstairs with the phone.
 
Simran’s voice came through—breathless, heavy. 
“Ravi… where are you?”
 
He could hear her panting faintly, as if she’d just run up stairs. 
“Jaan… I’m stuck at the office. Roads are completely clogged. Water everywhere. People are saying no one’s getting through tonight. I’ll try in the morning when it slows down.”
 
After some talk, she said: 
“Take care… don’t take any risk. Just stay safe.”
 
“I will. Love you.”
 
“Love you too.”
 
The call ended. Ravi stared at the rain hammering the windshield, unaware that on the other end, Simran had storms of her own to handle.
 
She’d been on the sofa and was on the verge of another orgasm, probably would have been the fourth or fifth for the evening, couldn’t track count anymore. The phone had rung right as she neared the edge; she’d snatched it up, breath ragged, trying to sound normal. When Ravi explained the flooded roads, she’d barely heard him—she had just controlled her own flood from happening between her thighs, juices coating her panty, soaking the sofa cushion beneath her ass, probably.
 
She ended the call, phone slipping from her hand.
 
She looked up.
 
The rain didn’t stop.
 
Neither did the storm inside her.
 
A lot had happened since the storm started in the evening.
 
Bhola had gone downstairs after the completing his task—his face still flushed, lips shiny with her milk, the taste lingering sweet and heavy on his tongue. After the call with Ravi, Simran sat on the bed for a long moment, body trembling from the aftershocks, breasts lighter but already beginning to refill, nipples raw and tingling. She looked at the door of the bedroom that goes downstairs.
 
Simran stood slowly, legs unsteady and walked to the bathroom. The nightie—loose, sky-blue silk—fell to mid-thigh, the thin straps barely holding on her shoulders, the neckline low enough to frame the deep valley between her swollen breasts. She didn’t bother closing the bathroom door fully; the house was empty except for Bhola, and after everything that had happened, modesty felt distant, almost pointless, at least for that moment.
 
She hiked the nightie up around her waist, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her black lace panties, and slid them down her thighs—slowly, deliberately—letting the damp fabric peel away from her swollen pussy lips with a soft, sticky sound. The panties dropped to her ankles.
 
She positioned herself over the commode—thighs parting, ass hovering above the cool seat—and relaxed.
 
The warm piss rushed out in a strong, steady stream—hissing against the porcelain, the heat of it cascading down her sensitive folds, splashing over her swollen clit and dripping between her lips. The sensation was immediate, overwhelming—hot liquid flowing over already aroused flesh, teasing every nerve, making her gasp.
 
“Aaahhh…”
 
Her pussy clenched involuntarily around nothing, clit throbbing as the stream continued, warm and forceful. Goosebumps raced across her skin. The sound—sharp, intimate—echoed in the small space, blending with the rain outside, and suddenly she was back in the memory. The memory that was difficult to judge if it was real or just a dream of an unsteady sleep.
 
She remembered: Bhola beneath her… mouth on her nipple… sucking hard… milk flooding him… his huge cock pressing up against her…
 
Her hand drifted between her legs without conscious thought—fingers brushing her slick lips, circling her clit slowly as the piss tapered off. The warmth of her own stream, the memory of his mouth, the forbidden thrill of it all—it sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
 
He drank me… like it was the sweetest thing… Ravi couldn’t… but Bhola…
 
She shivered—fingers moving faster now—pussy clenching as another small orgasm threatened, building impossibly fast from nothing but thought and sensation. The rain outside pounded harder, thunder rumbling low, matching the pulse between her thighs.