She came hard for the second time, hips jerking, pussy gushing fresh juices all over his mouth and chin while he kept licking and sucking through it, his own hand still furiously stroking his cock.
Ravi groaned into her pussy as he felt her cum, his own orgasm close but not quite there yet.
He was lost in it — eating his wife while jerking off to the thought of her being bred by another man.
And Simran, still trembling from her climax, looked down at him with hazy, satisfied eyes… already wondering how long she could keep this dangerous game going.
Sunday Morning
After a quiet breakfast, Simran’s phone rang. It was Preeti.
She excused herself with a casual “I’ll take this upstairs” and hurried to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. The moment she answered, her voice dropped into an excited whisper.
“Preeti! Finally! Tell me everything. Is it done? Did it actually happen? Was it good? Did you get to see the whole thing? What did it feel like? Tell me, I’m dying here!”
Preeti laughed on the other end, low and a little shy.
“Simran… it happened. Two days ago. Arjun came over in the evening. It was… intense. Really intense. He was so gentle at first, then so strong. I watched everything. Every single thrust. Shikha was moaning so loud I thought the neighbours would hear. He came inside her twice that night… deep. We kept her hips elevated for almost an hour after. It felt… powerful. Like something ancient was actually working.”
Simran’s free hand unconsciously moved to her own heavy breasts, squeezing lightly as fresh milk leaked into her shirt.
“God… was he big? Did Shikha enjoy it? Did you… touch him? Tell me more, please!”
Preeti giggled. “Why don’t you come over for lunch today? We’ll talk properly. I’ll tell you every dirty detail. Shikha wants to see you too.”
Simran’s heart jumped. “Yes! I’ll be there by 1. Can’t wait.”
She hung up, pulse racing, but the moment the call ended, reality hit her hard.
She hadn’t been milked yet today.
Her breasts were already painfully full again — heavy, swollen, the nipples dark and aching, two wet spots already forming on the front of her shirt. She could feel the pressure building, the deep ache that only Bhola’s mouth could fix. And she was supposed to leave for Preeti’s place in a couple of hours.
She paced the room, biting her lip.
Ravi is downstairs. Bhola is downstairs. How the hell do I get him up here without it looking suspicious?
Just then, footsteps on the stairs. Ravi walked in, looking for a book on the shelf.
Simran’s mind worked fast.
“Ravi… can you do me a favour? The room is such a mess. Can you send Bhola up? Tell him to tidy up quickly before I leave for Preeti’s place.”
Ravi nodded without suspicion. “Sure, baby.”
A minute later, Bhola appeared at the bedroom door, polite as always.
"Bhabhi? Sahib ne kaha tha aapko kamra saaf karwana tha?"
(“Bhabhi? Sahib said you wanted the room tidied?”)
The second Bhola stepped inside the bedroom and closed the door, Simran didn’t waste a single second.
She turned to face him, eyes dark with urgent need, and quickly unbuttoned the remaining buttons of her loose white shirt. The fabric fell open completely, revealing her swollen, painfully full breasts — heavy, round, and already leaking. Thick white beads of milk were forming at her dark, puffy nipples and rolling down the creamy undersides in slow, shiny trails.
Bhola’s breath hitched. His hands moved instantly.
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