Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

She took a quick sip of water to hide her face, but the smile wouldn't leave her lips.
 
"Pagal ho tum,"
(“You are mad”)
 
she muttered, voice full of mock scolding, though the blush stayed bright on her cheeks and neck.
 
Bhola just shrugged, still smiling that quiet, proud smile, like praising her body was the most normal thing in the world.
 
And Simran couldn't decide whether she wanted to hide under a blanket forever or pull him close and let him keep talking exactly like that.
 
Simran set the empty glass down on the side table and leaned forward a little, the front of her nightie pulling tight across her still-tender breasts. She gave a small, breathless laugh, shaking her head.
 
"Abhi mazak bahut ho gaya, Bhola. Chalo, lunch banana hai. Ravi thodi der mein uth jayega."
("Enough joking around now, Bhola. Come on, I have to make lunch. Ravi will wake up in a little while.")
 
She stood up slowly, smoothing the hem of the nightie down her thighs, though the damp patches over her nipples were still clearly visible if anyone looked closely. Bhola rose too, ready to follow her to the kitchen like always.
 
She paused mid-step, turning back to him, voice dropping softer.
 
"Kal Saturday hai... aur Monday tak Ravi ghar pe hi rahenge. Matlab teen din tak woh bahar nahi jayenge."
("Tomorrow is Saturday... and Ravi will be home till Monday. Meaning for three days he won't go out.")
 
Bhola nodded, understanding immediately what she was really saying.
 
Simran bit her lower lip for a second, cheeks already warming again.
 
"Lekin... teen baar roz karna mushkil ho jayega. Itna time nahi milega. Par mujhe... teen baar chahiye hi. Tumhe pata hai na kitna pressure hota hai."
("But... doing it three times a day will become difficult. I won't get that much time. But I... I really need it three times. You know how much pressure there is, right.")
 
Bhola looked at her for a long moment, thinking seriously. Then he spoke in that same calm, straightforward way that always made her stomach flip.
 
"Toh phir Bhabhi, hum tukron mein kar lenge. Jab bhi thoda sa time mile. Do minute, teen minute. Kabhi yahin sofa pe, kabhi kitchen mein, jaha aap bolo, aap bas ek ishara kar dena. Main aa jaunga aur choos lunga aapki chuchiyon ko jaldi jaldi, jitna ho sake utna doodh nikal dunga. Aapko araam milega aur Sahib ko bhi kuchh pata nahi chalega."
("So then Bhabhi, we'll do it in bits. Whenever we get even a little time. Two minutes, three minutes. Sometimes right here on the sofa, sometimes in the kitchen, wherever you say—just give me a sign. I'll come right away and suck your boobs quickly, extract as much milk as possible in that time. You'll get relief and Sahib won't suspect a thing either.")
 
The way he said it, so casual, so straight forward — "choos lunga aapki chuchiyon ko", "jitna ho sake utna doodh nikal dunga" — made Simran's face catch fire. She felt the blush rush from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. She started getting more and more uncomfortable down below.
 
She looked down at the floor, unable to hold his eyes, fingers twisting the edge of her nightie.
 
"Tu... aise seedhe seedhe kaise bol leta hai?" she murmured, half embarrassed, half laughing under her breath.
("You... how do you say it so directly?" she murmured, half embarrassed, half laughing under her breath.)
 
Bhola just shrugged, a tiny smile playing on his lips.
 
"Sach bol raha hoon na, Bhabhi. Aapko araam chahiye, main de dunga. Bas aap bol dena kab, kahan. Main ready rahunga."
("I'm telling the truth, Bhabhi. You need relief, I'll give it to you. Just tell me when and where. I'll stay ready.")
 
Simran turned toward the kitchen, trying to hide how badly her heart was hammering. Every time he said "chuchiyon ko" or "doodh nikal dunga" so innocently, it felt like a dirty little secret being whispered right against her skin. Her nipples tightened again under the thin cotton, brushing the damp fabric with every step she took.