Bhola’s eyes were closed in pure enjoyment, mouth latched tight, milk flowing endlessly. Simran’s head had fallen back, moans rising in the dark— “Aaahhhh… aaaahhhh…” —lost in the wet, rhythmic suction.
Lightning struck again—brighter than before, more light than sound—illuminating the room in a blinding white flash. For that frozen moment, Simran’s figure was etched in perfect silhouette:, milk dripping in slow, shining trails down her curves of her breasts, her face flushed with pleasure, eyes half-closed.
She opened her eyes.
At the exact same moment, her phone rang vibrating on the sofa cushion beside her. The screen lit up: Ravi.
The spell shattered.
Simran’s trance broke like a glass fell on the floor. Reality crashed in, Bhola kneeling inches away and his mouth already moving towards her right nipple. Panic surged through her like cold water.
She shoved him hard, instinctive—flat against his chest.
Bhola stumbled backward, losing balance, falling half onto his side with a soft thud onto the carpet. His eyes widened in surprise.
Simran panicked and quickly sat up, her heart hammering hard. She hurriedly pulled her nightie straps up, covering her leaking tits just as the phone rang again. She snatched it up fast, turned away from Bhola, and rushed toward the stairs.
Simran's voice came out high and breathless as she picked up: "Ravi... hello?" She hurried up the stairs, nightie swishing around her legs, her boobs bouncing under the thin fabric she'd just yanked up, milk still seeping through and making dark wet spots.
Bhola stayed down on the floor a second, watching her bolt away, then got up slow. He got it — the second Ravi's name popped up, game over. No bad blood, no nothing. Just how it was.
He grabbed the spilled tea glasses and headed back to the kitchen, face straight, but his head spinning with what just went down and what might come next.
Upstairs, Simran closed the bedroom door behind her as she answered her husband.
The storm outside continued, but inside, a different kind of storm had just paused.
Simran sat curled on the bed, legs tucked beneath her.
“Ravi… you still there?”
“Yeah, jaan. Still stuck. You okay?”
Simran exhaled shakily.
“I’m… worried. It’s raining so much. Have you eaten anything? They must have something at the office, right?”
Ravi chuckled tiredly.
“We ordered from the canteen—dal-chawal, roti, sabzi. Nothing fancy, but it’s food. Everyone’s sharing. Don’t worry about me.”
She bit her lip.
“And… sleeping? How will you sleep? On the floor? It’s not comfortable…”
“Some of us have sleeping bags in the store room. Others are just using sofa cushions and blankets. It’s like a camp. We’ll manage. It’s not too bad. I’ll be fine, promise.”
Simran’s voice dropped, softer.
“Okay… just… be careful. And call me, please. I don’t like this. The rain is so heavy here too. It was thundering non-stop earlier—shook the whole house. Lights went off twice.”
Ravi’s tone turned gentle.
“Hey… relax. I know it’s scary when the storm’s bad. But you’re safe inside.”
“Yeah….” She hesitated. “But… what’s going on there? Are the roads really that bad?”
“Worse actually. Water’s knee-deep in places. We’re not even trying. Everyone’s just waiting it out. I’ll leave as soon as it’s safe.”
Simran nodded even though he couldn’t see.
“Okay… just… take care.”
“Get some rest. I’ll call first thing.”
They said goodnight and the line went dead.
Simran stared at the phone for a moment, she wanted to talk more then looked up.
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