Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

A long, front-open gown. Not the fancy silk ones she wore to parties, but one of those soft cotton house gowns she sometimes lounged in when it was just family. Buttons all the way down the front, or maybe press-studs for faster opening. When Ravi was home she could keep the top two or three fastened, look completely decent. But the moment he left the room, or dozed off on the sofa with the TV on, she could undo them slowly, let the fabric part like curtains. Bhola could step close, spread the gown open with both hands, and bury his face between her bare tits without a single strap or hem to wrestle. She could even keep it half-on, the gown hanging off her shoulders like a robe while he sucked one breast, then the other, his hands free to roam wherever they wanted.
 
The image hit her hard: standing in the living room, gown open to the waist, breasts hanging heavy and leaking, Bhola on his knees in front of her, mouth latched on, milk dripping down his chin while Ravi slept ten feet away on the sofa. Risky as hell. Stupid. Thrilling.
 
Her pussy clenched so hard she had to grab the wardrobe door for balance. Fresh slick soaked through the cotton panty in seconds, making the crotch cling transparently to her swollen lips. She could feel the wetness spreading, warm and slippery against her inner thighs.
 
She stared at her reflection, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. The pink camisole suddenly felt too tame, too covered. She wanted easier. Faster. More exposed.
 
She pulled the camisole off in one motion, tits bouncing free, nipples tightening in the cool air. Naked again, she stood there a moment, breathing shallow, weighing the options in her head while her body screamed for the next stolen suck.
 
The front-open gown won.
 
She found it at the back of the cupboard, light blue cotton, soft as butter, buttons running from neck to hem. She slipped it on, fastened only the middle three so it looked modest from the front. The top parted just enough to show the inner swell of her breasts, the bottom flared loose around her thighs. No bra now, she decided. The gown would hide everything when buttoned, but one flick of a button and she could be bare to the waist in two seconds.
 
She buttoned one more for safety, then left the top two undone on purpose.
 
When she walked downstairs a minute later, the gown swished against her bare legs, the open neckline shifting with every step, threatening to reveal more with the slightest lean.
 
Bhola was in the living room, arranging the remote and cushions. He looked up the moment she appeared.
 
His eyes darkened instantly.
 
Simran felt the fresh wetness trickle down her inner thigh.
 
She smiled, small and secret, and walked past him toward the kitchen like nothing was different.
 
But everything was.
 
And they both knew it. Atleast she definitely did.
 
Simran came down the stairs just as Bhola was switching off the kitchen light. The front-open gown swished softly against her bare thighs with every step, the top three buttons still undone so the deep V showed the inner curves of her heavy tits. She had changed into fresh cotton panties after the nap, but they were already clinging wet again from the dream and all the thinking about easy-access clothes.
 
Bhola turned when he heard her footsteps. His eyes flicked down to the open neckline for half a second before coming back up to her face.
 
"Neend achhi aayi, Bhabhi?" he asked quietly, wiping his hands on the small towel.
("Did you sleep well, Bhabhi?" he asked quietly, wiping his hands on the small towel.)
 
She gave a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
 
"Haan... achhi thi. Pata nehi kyon thak gayi thi bilkul. Body ko shayad rest chahiye tha."
("Yeah... it was good. I don't know why I was so completely tired. The body probably just needed some rest.")
 
They chatted for a minute about nothing much, dinner timings, what to make tomorrow. Normal house talk. Then footsteps sounded on the stairs.