Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

He stepped inside and pushed the door almost shut, leaving just a crack. No need for words.
 
Simran didn't speak either. She just reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him close.
 
Bhola's hands were already moving. He spread the gown wider with both palms, letting it fall off her shoulders completely so it pooled at her elbows. Her magnificent tits spilled forward into his waiting hands. He cupped them from underneath, lifting their weight, thumbs brushing the undersides before he leaned down and took the right nipple deep into his mouth.
 
The first suck was hard and immediate.
 
Milk jetted onto his tongue in a thick, warm stream. He swallowed with a low, greedy sound, cheeks hollowing as he pulled deeper. His other hand squeezed the left tit in rhythm, milking it downward so more beads formed at the tip. Simran's head fell back against the wardrobe door, lips parting in a silent gasp. She couldn't moan loudly, not with Ravi downstairs. Just quick, shaky breaths through her nose.
 
Bhola switched. Released the right nipple with a wet pop, a fine spray of milk hitting his cheek before he latched onto the left one. He sucked even harder now, desperate to empty her fast. One hand kneaded the right breast roughly, pinching the nipple and tugging it outward until it stretched long and thick, then letting it snap back. Milk dribbled down his chin, dripping onto her stomach in warm little trails.
 
Simran's thighs trembled. Her pussy clenched hard, fresh slick running down her inner legs. She grabbed the back of his head with one hand, fingers twisting in his hair, holding him tight against her leaking tit while her other hand pressed against her own mouth to keep any sound inside.
 
Bhola kept going, alternating every few seconds, sucking deep, squeezing hard, drinking every drop he could pull out. The wet slurp-slurp-slurp filled the quiet room, mixed with her stifled gasps and his low swallowing sounds.
 
He didn't stop until both tits were soft and spent, nipples red and glistening, no more milk beading at the tips.
 
Only then did he lift his head, lips shiny, chin dripping. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and stepped back half a step, eyes dark and heavy.
 
Simran stood there panting, gown hanging open, tits bare and empty, pussy throbbing untouched. She looked at him for one long second, then quietly pulled the gown closed again, buttoning just enough to look decent.
 
Bhola slipped out without a word, footsteps soft on the stairs.
 
Simran leaned against the wardrobe door for a moment, catching her breath, heart still racing.
 
Downstairs the TV was still playing.
 
Ravi hadn't moved.
 
She had gotten her relief.
 
Bhola was already turning toward the door, one hand on the knob, when Simran's soft voice stopped him cold.
 
"Bhola... ruk jao ek minute."
("Bhola... wait a minute.")
 
He paused, looking back over his shoulder. She was still standing there with the gown hanging open at the front, tits bare and flushed from his mouth, nipples dark and shiny. She hadn't bothered to close the buttons yet.
 
She pointed toward the attached bathroom with a small tilt of her chin.
 
"Woh kapde utha lo na laundry ke liye. Nightie, meri panty, towel... aur Ravi ke bhi jo pade hain."
("Pick up those clothes for the laundry na. My nightie, my panties, towel... and Ravi's too, whatever are lying around.")
 
Bhola nodded without a word and stepped into the bathroom. On the edge of the sink lay the crumpled blue nightie, damp in patches from sweat and milk. Next to it was the tiny black thong she had peeled off before coming up, the crotch dark and soaked through, strings twisted from how wet she'd been all day. A white towel hung on the rack, faintly scented with her body wash. Ravi's t-shirt and track pants were tossed in the corner hamper.
 
He gathered everything carefully, almost reverently. The nightie first, folding it once so the wet spots didn't touch anything else. Then the thong. He lifted it between thumb and forefinger, feeling the damp lace cling slightly to his skin before he tucked it inside the bundle. The towel went on top, Ravi's clothes last. The faint musky-sweet smell of her arousal rose from the small pile, making his cock twitch hard again inside his pants.