Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

His mouth opened wide and took in the entire dark, leaking nipple along with a generous portion of the soft, creamy flesh around it. He sucked hard — deep, greedy, almost punishing pulls that made loud, wet, obscene sounds fill the silent living room. Milk jetted forcefully into his mouth in thick, creamy streams. He swallowed with audible gulps, but it wasn’t enough. Warm white milk spilled from the corners of his lips, running down his chin and dripping onto her bare stomach in slow, glistening trails.
 
Simran’s belly erupted with goosebumps the moment his mouth sealed around her. A violent shiver ran through her entire body. She couldn’t stop replaying that tiny, forbidden moment from earlier — the way her lips had brushed his, the taste of her own sweet milk on his mouth. The memory made her dizzy. She wanted more. She was getting crazy with want.
 
Her left hand moved on its own, sliding slowly up the back of his head until her fingers rested in his thick hair. She started stroking him gently, gliding through the damp strands, holding him closer to her chest as if she never wanted him to stop.
 
Bhola’s eyes were closed in pure bliss. Small, deep moaning sounds escaped from his throat every time he swallowed — low, hungry, almost animalistic. Simran was moaning too, soft, continuous little gasps and whimpers that she tried desperately to keep quiet, her head tilted back against the sofa, lips parted.
 
She was losing herself completely.
 
After a particularly long, deep suck that made her whole body jerk, she managed to whisper, voice shaky and breathless:
 
"Bhola… mera doodh peena tujhe itna pasand kyun hai?"
(“Bhola… why do you like drinking my milk so much?”)
 
Bhola reluctantly broke contact with a wet pop, a long string of milk stretching between his swollen lips and her dark, glistening nipple. He looked up at her, eyes heavy with lust, chin shiny with her cream.
 
“Bahut, bahut swadisht hai, Bhabhi,” he said simply, voice rough and sincere. “Bahot zyada meetha.”
(“It’s very, very tasty, Bhabhi,” he said simply, voice rough and sincere. “Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”)
 
He dived back in immediately, latching onto the same nipple with even more aggression. Simran gasped sharply at the sudden intensity, her back arching, fingers tightening in his hair.
 
Between broken breaths, she asked again, voice trembling:
 
"Kaisa... kaisa taste hai?"
“What… what does it taste like?”
 
Bhola released her nipple just long enough to answer, his lips brushing against the wet peak as he spoke.
 
"Hmmm… mujhe bilkul sahi pata nahi… yeh meetha hai… thoda namkeen bhi… phir phir se meetha. Jaise garam shahad kisi creamy cheez ke saath mila hua. Main isse peene se ruk nahi pa raha."
(“Hmmm… I don’t know exactly… it’s sweet… and a little salty… and then sweet again. Like warm honey mixed with something creamy. I can’t stop drinking it.”)
 
He immediately latched back on, sucking harder than before, his hands squeezing both heavy breasts together, pushing them into his face so he could feast on them properly. Milk flowed freely now, spilling down his chin, coating his neck, dripping onto her thighs in warm, sticky drops.
 
Simran let out a long, shaky “Hmmmm…” that turned into a soft moan, her hand still gently stroking his hair, guiding him, encouraging him.
 
Bhola continued for a while, lost in the taste and the softness, switching between both tits every few seconds, sucking with loud, hungry sounds. Then, after a particularly deep pull on her left breast, he suddenly paused, still holding her nipple between his lips. He looked up at her with dark, curious eyes.
 
"Kyaa aapne kabhi khud taste nahi kiya, Bhabhi?" he asked. "Mujhe laga tha jab aap pump use karti thi... toh kam se kam ek baar try kiya hi hoga."
(“Have you never tasted it yourself, Bhabhi?” he asked. “I thought when you used the pump… you must have tried it at least once.”)
 
Simran shook her head slowly, meaning no. The small movement made her heavy, glistening breasts sway gently left and right — not much, just enough to make them sway softly, the wet nipples catching the dim light.
 
Bhola’s eyes darkened even more at the sight.