Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Simran watched him over the rim of the mug. She saw the flush creeping up his neck, the quick bob of his throat, the way his hips shifted uncomfortably. She saw the thick ridge now tenting the front of his pants, impossible to hide.
 
He's hard, she thought, a slow smile tugging at her lips behind the mug. He remembers last night. He knows I'm full. And he's dying to suck me again.
 
She shifted her weight, letting the kurti gap open a fraction more as she reached for the sugar bowl. The wet spot over her nipple grew a little larger, the cotton turning translucent, the dark circle of her areola faintly visible now.
 
She waited. Sipped. Leaned. Let the silence stretch.
 
Bhola's breathing was heavier. His knuckles whitened on the spatula. He wanted to drop to his knees, bury his face in her chest, pull that kurti up and suck until she trembled against him. He wanted to taste her again, feel her milk flood his mouth, feel her body shake the way it did yesterday.
 
But he stayed rooted to the stove.
 
Not yet, he told himself. Sahib is upstairs. Wait for her to say something. Wait for a sign.
 
Simran's pussy throbbed in response to his hesitation. She crossed her legs at the ankles, feeling the panty pull tight against her swollen lips.
 
Come on, Bhola, she thought, pulse racing. You said you'd take the first step. I'm right here. Leaking for you. How long are you going to wait? Until Ravi comes down? Or are you going to make me beg?
 
The kitchen was quiet except for the sizzle of the pan and the soft clink of her spoon against the mug.
 
Neither of them moved.
 
The tension sat thick between them, delicious and unbearable.
 
And upstairs, Ravi's alarm had just started to ring.
 


 
Simran stepped out into the small garden behind the house, the morning air cool and fresh after last night’s rain. She carried her half-finished cup of tea and sank into the old cane chair under the mango tree, the same one she used to sit in when she first moved into this house, and everything still felt new and exciting.
 
The garden was quiet. Birds were chirping, a light breeze rustled the leaves, and the wet grass smelled of earth and green. She took a slow sip of tea, letting the cool air wash over her face and bare arms, hoping it would clear the fog in her head.
 
It didn’t.
 
Her mind was a battlefield, swinging wildly between two versions of herself.
 
One side was the dutiful wife she had always tried to be.
 
Ravi is upstairs sleeping. He loves you more than anything. He would do anything for you. How can you hide this from him? Bhola has sucked your breasts not once, not twice, but many times now. You’ve let the servant put his mouth on you, drink from you, make you come again and again while your husband was in the same house. This is wrong. This is betrayal. You need to stop it right now. Tell Ravi everything tonight. Accept whatever comes. At least you’ll be honest.
 
The thought made her stomach twist with guilt so sharp it almost hurt. She could picture Ravi’s face if she told him — the shock, the pain, the way his eyes would go wide and then fill with that quiet, broken look he got whenever something reminded him of his parents’ death. She couldn’t do that to him. Not after everything he had been through. Not when he treated her like she was the only good thing left in his world.
 
But the other voice — the one that had grown louder and hungrier every single day — refused to stay quiet.
 
And what about you? Ravi can’t drink your milk. He tried once and almost gagged. The pump almost ruined your nipples forever. You can’t keep walking around full and aching every few hours. Bhola is happy to do it. More than happy. He loves the taste. He drinks like a man dying of thirst. And when he sucks you… God, the way he pulls, the way his tongue moves, the way his hands squeeze… you come so hard you can’t even breathe. You’ve never come like that with Ravi. Never. Your body needs this now. It craves it. You’re not just doing it for the milk anymore. You’re doing it because you love the orgasms. You love how empty and light you feel afterwards. You love how wet you get just from his mouth on your tits.