Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

This is wrong… I’m a married woman. Ravi is upstairs. He loves me so much. How can I keep letting the servant suck my tits every few hours? How can I keep coming on his mouth while my husband sleeps in the same house?
 
But her breasts were getting heavier by the minute, the pain starting to bloom deep inside them. She could feel the milk pressure building, the wet spots on her kurti growing larger. Her pussy throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat, clit swollen and sensitive against the soaked panty.
 
But it feels so good… the other voice whispered. Bhola makes me come without even any sex. He drinks me like he’s starving. He needs me. And I need him now.
 
She squeezed her thighs together, feeling fresh slick leak out of her.
 
She didn’t know what the right thing was anymore.
 
She only knew that very soon — maybe in the next hour — the pain in her tits would become unbearable, and she would have to decide.
 
Call Bhola to her.
 
Or suffer.
 
And somewhere in the house, Bhola was waiting too — hard, hungry, and ready to be called the moment she gave him even the smallest sign.
 
Simran sat in the garden chair for a few more minutes, trying to enjoy the cool breeze, but it was no use. Her breasts had grown noticeably heavier in the last half hour, the familiar deep ache spreading through the full, swollen globes. The soft pink kurti felt wrong now — too modest, too many layers, too much fabric to fight with if Bhola came to her. She needed something he could access instantly, without any struggle.
 
She stood up, heart already racing, and walked back inside.
 
Upstairs, she quickly changed in the bedroom while Ravi was still asleep. She pulled on a loose, faded blue-and-white checked shirt that she had cut short months ago for lazy days at home. The hem stopped exactly at her belly button, leaving her entire midriff bare. It was oversized and flowing, the kind of shirt that rode up the moment she reached for anything or stretched even slightly. The top four buttons were left open on purpose. No bra underneath. The fabric was thin and soft, brushing her sensitive nipples with every breath and already starting to show faint wet spots where milk was leaking.
 
She kept the same high-cut white panty on — already soaked through — and slipped on the loose palazzo pants low on her hips for basic decency. The cropped checked shirt hung loosely over her curves, the open front giving a constant teasing view of her deep cleavage and the heavy undersides of her breasts. If she reached up for a jar from the top shelf, the shirt would ride up completely, exposing her toned midriff, deep navel, the soft lower belly, and even the top curves of her plump ass cheeks. It was perfect.
 
She took one last look in the mirror, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and went downstairs.
 
The moment she stepped into the kitchen, Bhola turned from the stove. His eyes landed on her new outfit and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He immediately understood why she had changed. The short, checkered shirt, the bare midriff, the way the open buttons let her heavy tits shift freely underneath — it was an open invitation.
 
Simran felt shy under his gaze. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, looking down for a moment, cheeks turning pink.
 
She walked closer to him and stopped just a foot away. Facing him directly, she looked down at her own chest, then slowly, deliberately, reached up and unbuttoned three more buttons. The checked shirt parted wide, revealing her million-dollar cleavage — the deep, soft valley between her full, leaking breasts, the inner curves creamy and heavy, the dark edges of her wide areolas just visible.
 
Bhola didn’t waste even a second.
 
He stepped right up to her, one hand sliding inside the open shirt from the side. His rough palm cupped her right tit from below, lifting the heavy, warm globe. He bent his head, pulled the entire breast out of the shirt in one smooth motion, and took a massive chunk of it into his hungry mouth — not just the nipple, but a good portion of the soft flesh and wide areola.
 
Then he sucked.
 
Hard.