Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

"Toh tum... khud hi decide kar loge kab karna hai?"
("So you... will decide on your own when to do it?")
 
Bhola gave a small, reassuring nod.
 
"Haan Bhabhi. Aapko tension lene ki zaroorat nahi. Main dekh lunga kab safe hai. Jab bhi aapko zaroorat hogi, main aa jaunga aur choos lunga jitna ho sake utna. Teen baar toh poora kar hi denge, chhote chhote sessions mein. Aap bas relax raho. Main sambhal lunga."
("Yes Bhabhi. You don't need to take any tension. I'll check when it's safe. Whenever you need it, I'll come and suck as much as possible. We'll definitely complete three times, in small small sessions. You just relax. I'll handle everything.")
 
Simran let out a shaky breath. Her cheeks were burning again, but this time there was something almost comforting in his confidence. He wasn't teasing her. He wasn't making it dirty. He was just... promising to take care of her need, quietly, carefully, whenever it arose.
 
She gave a tiny nod, voice barely above a whisper.
 
Bhola smiled softly, then turned back to the vegetables, knife moving steadily.
 
"Ji Bhabhi. Aap lunch ke liye sabzi tayyar karo. Main baaki sab dekh lunga."
("Yes Bhabhi. You prepare the vegetables for lunch. I'll take care of everything else.")
 
And just like that, the conversation ended. But the promise hung between them, heavy and unspoken. From now on, he wouldn't wait for her to ask. He would watch. He would know. And whenever the house was quiet enough, whenever Ravi was distracted or asleep, he would come to her, pull her aside, and drink from her until the ache went away.
 
Simran picked up the atta and started kneading, her heart still racing, her mind already imagining the first stolen moment that was going to happen very, very soon.
 
Simran spent the next two hours moving around the kitchen like she owned the place, braless under that thin blue nightie. Every time she reached up to grab a spice jar from the top shelf, her heavy mangoes lifted and swayed, the soft cotton barely containing them. The narrow straps dug into her shoulders a little, but the neckline dipped low enough that the deep valley between her breasts stayed on full display. When she bent to check the rice or stirred the dal, those full, rounded globes swung forward, jiggling with each motion, nipples still puffy and dark from Bhola's earlier attention, poking clearly against the damp fabric.
 
Bhola kept stealing glances while he chopped onions and rolled rotis. He tried to be discreet, but his eyes kept drifting to the way her ass cheeks shifted under the short hem whenever she turned, the tiny black thong strings barely visible when she stretched. It was impossible not to watch. She looked like pure temptation walking around half-dressed in broad daylight, cooking like it was the most normal thing, while her body screamed sex with every innocent movement.
 
After about two hours the ceiling fan creaked once upstairs. Simran froze mid-stir, listening. Footsteps. Soft, sleepy ones.
 
She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and headed up without a word. Bhola stayed quiet, eyes following her swaying hips until she disappeared around the bend of the staircase.
 
Ravi was sitting on the edge of the bed when she pushed the door open. Hair messed up, eyes half-lidded, still in that post-sleep trance where the world hasn't quite come back into focus. He rubbed his face with both hands, yawning hugely.
 
Simran stepped inside, nightie swishing against her thighs.
 
"Ravi? Lunch ready hai. Utho na, nahaa lo pehle. Fresh feel karoge."
("Ravi? Lunch is ready. Get up now, take a bath first. You'll feel fresh.")
 
He blinked at her slowly, taking a second to register her standing there. His gaze drifted down for half a heartbeat, catching the way the nightie clung to her curves, the faint wet spots still visible over her nipples, but he was too groggy to really notice or care.
 
"Haan... thoda thak gaya hoon yaar," he mumbled, voice thick. "Raat bhar soya hi nahi properly."
("Yeah... I'm a bit tired, yaar," he mumbled, his voice thick. "Didn't sleep properly at all last night.")
 
She walked closer, leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.
 
"Chalo, nahaa lo. Sab tayyar hai neeche. Bhola ne bahut mehnat ki hai aaj."
("Come on, take a bath. Everything is ready downstairs. Bhola has worked really hard today.")