Simran sat on the edge of the sofa, her thighs pressed tightly together, but that only made things worse. The heavy, aching fullness in her breasts had returned with a vengeance. They felt swollen, tight, almost hot under the thin blue nightie, and every tiny shift of her body sent a fresh throb through her nipples. She could feel the slow leak starting again—warm beads forming, soaking into the fabric and turning the material dark in two telling spots right over her areolas. The pressure was building fast, the kind that would soon turn from uncomfortable to outright painful if she ignored it.
God, not now. Not with Ravi upstairs.
Her mind was a battlefield, two loud voices screaming at each other inside her head.
One voice was sharp, ashamed, almost panicked:
What the hell are you even thinking, Simran? Your husband is literally sleeping in your bed right now. In your house. How can you possibly call Bhola over and let him put his mouth on you? Let him suck your breasts like some secret lover while Ravi is only a floor away? This isn’t the middle of a storm anymore. The rain has stopped. The house is quiet. If Ravi wakes up for water, or rolls over and finds the bed empty… what then? You’ll destroy everything. Your marriage, your dignity, your entire life. Just because your tits are full? Grow up. Endure the pain. Use your hands if you have to. Anything but this.
But the other voice—lower, warmer, far more persuasive—was already winning ground:
He won’t wake up. You saw how deeply he was sleeping. Bhola gave him that powder again, the same one that knocked him out cold last night and this morning. He’s dead to the world. Even if he stirs, he’ll just turn over and go back under. And the pain… you know how bad it gets. It’s already starting to hurt, that deep, heavy ache that spreads into your back and makes your whole chest feel like it’s about to burst. Yesterday Bhola emptied you so perfectly. The relief was instant, and then the pleasure… those orgasms that kept rolling through you, one after another, just from his mouth. No one has ever made you feel like that. Not even Ravi. Your body needs it. Your milk needs to come out properly, or you’ll end up swollen and engorged again like before the pump got stuck. Bhola is right here. He’s willing. He even said he’s always hungry for it. He loves the taste. He drinks like he can’t get enough. And he’s so careful, so gentle…
She bit her lower lip hard, feeling fresh warmth trickle between her legs. Her pussy was already wet again, the lace panties clinging uncomfortably. The memory of Bhola’s lips sealing around her nipple, the strong rhythmic pulls, the wet sounds, the way her hips had moved on their own—grinding against his hardness—flooded her mind and made her shift restlessly on the cushion.
It’s not cheating, the needy voice whispered.
It’s medical. It’s relief. You tried to involve Ravi and he couldn’t even stomach the taste. Bhola can. He actually enjoys it. And you need this. Look at you—your nipples are so hard they’re poking through the nightie. You’re leaking. If you wait any longer the pain will get unbearable. Just a quick session. Ten, fifteen minutes. He’ll empty both sides completely, massage them afterward with that honey-oil mix, and you’ll feel light again. Relaxed. Satisfied. Then you can go upstairs, lie down next to your sleeping husband like nothing happened. No one will ever know.
The guilty voice fought back harder:
No one will ever know? That’s how affairs start. With exactly these excuses. “Just this once.” “He’s asleep.” “It’s only for the milk.” But you know it’s more than that now. You’re not just letting him suck your breasts for relief anymore. You’re craving the orgasms. You’re craving the way he looks at you, the way his big hands hold your tits, the way his cock feels so thick and hard under you when you grind on him. You came multiple times yesterday just from that. What if today you want more? What if you end up pulling his pant down? What if you cross that final line while your husband is literally in the same house? You’ll never be able to look at Ravi again without feeling disgusting.
Simran’s breath came faster. She squeezed her thighs together again, feeling the slick slide of her swollen lips. The fullness in her breasts was getting worse by the minute. A fresh drop of milk escaped her left nipple and rolled slowly down the curve of her breast, leaving a cool, wet trail under the nightie.
Tell him to come here quietly. He’ll kneel in front of you like before. He’ll lift your nightie, take one heavy tit in his hand, and latch on. That first strong suck… the rush of milk leaving you… the instant lightness… and then the heat that spreads straight down to your clit. You’ll cum so fast. Maybe twice. And it’ll all be over before Ravi even dreams of waking up. You deserve this relief. Your body is screaming for it. Don’t torture yourself.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)