Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Aaj thodi si peeth dard ho raha hai. Subah se hi dard ho raha hai. Kal pura din baith kar laptop pe kaam karne ki wajah se hoga.”
(“I’m having some back pain today. It’s been hurting since morning. Must be from all the sitting and working on the laptop yesterday.”)
 
Bhola’s expression softened with genuine worry. He looked at her unmistakenly big boobs which he has been sucking day in and out. Such heavy boobs and filled with milk can make the backache bad if not done something. Something like a massage, may be?
 
“Kya main aapko nahane se pehle massage kar doon, Bhabhi? Main bahut accha massage deta hoon. Dard mein aaram milega.”
(“May I massage you before you go for bath, Bhabhi? I can give a very good massage. It will help with the pain.”)
 
Simran turned slightly, looking down at him with a teasing little smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
 
“Tumhe sab pata hota hai na aajkal mujhe kya kya chahiye, hai na?”
(“You know everything I need these days, don’t you?”)
 
Bhola smiled back — innocent, warm, and completely sincere.
 
“Bil kul, Bhabhi. Aapke liye kuch bhi.”
(“Of course, Bhabhi. Anything for you.”)
 
Simran’s heart skipped. She bit her lower lip for a second, then nodded.
 
“Thik hai…lekin kaha?”
(“Okay… but where?”)
 
“Jahan aap kahengi, Bhabhi.”
(“Anywhere you say, Bhabhi.”)
 
She paused, then said it softly, almost too casually.
 
“Tumhara room mein kaisa rahega?”
(“How about your room?”)
 
Bhola didn’t hesitate.
 
“Theek hai. Bas pehle ise theek karne do. Mujhe das minute do.”
(“Sure. Just let me make it alright first. Give me ten minutes.”)
 
Simran nodded and continued upstairs, but the moment she reached the landing, her mind exploded with thoughts.
 
His room. I just asked to go to his room. Alone. After everything that happened last night. After I kissed him. After I drank my own milk from his mouth. What am I doing? This is too dangerous. Ravi just left for office. The house is empty. If I go into his room now… anything can happen. He might not stop at just massaging my back. He might want to suck me again. And I… I might let him. I might even want him to do more. God, what is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be a good wife. But my body is already reacting. My tits are starting to feel heavy again. My pussy is getting wet just thinking about being alone with him in his room. I’m playing with fire. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
 
She walked into the bedroom, closed the door, and stood there for a moment, breathing fast. The ten minutes he asked for felt both too long and too short.
 
Downstairs, Bhola quickly straightened his small room — folding the bedsheet neatly, arranging the pillow, making sure everything looked clean and respectful. His mind was calm but focused, completely unaware of the storm raging inside Simran.
 
Upstairs, Simran stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection. Her cheeks were already flushed. Her nipples were stiff against the nightie. Between her legs, she could feel the growing dampness.
 
She was going to his room.
 
And she had no idea how far she would let things go this time.
 
The new week had only just begun.
 
And it was already promising to be far more dangerous than the last.
 
Simran lay face-down on Bhola’s neatly made bed, her body stretched out on the fresh sheet, arms folded under her cheek. She tried to relax. She really did. She told herself this was just a massage, nothing more — a simple act of kindness to ease the fake back pain she had invented. But the moment Bhola’s warm, oiled hands touched the back of her neck, every intention of staying calm shattered.
 
His fingers were strong yet gentle, pressing into the tight muscles at the base of her skull with slow, deliberate circles. The oil — that intoxicating blend of sweet almond, ylang-ylang, sandalwood, clary sage and vanilla — warmed instantly against her skin, releasing its rich, sensual aroma that filled the small room like a drug. Each press of his thumbs sent a jolt of electricity racing down her spine, straight into her core. Her nipples hardened instantly against the mattress, pressing painfully into the soft cotton of her nightie. A fresh bead of milk leaked from each one, soaking into the fabric.
 
Bhola worked silently, completely focused on his task. To him, this was practical. He was simply helping Bhabhi the way he had helped countless women in the village — finding the knots, releasing the tension. His hands moved downward with innocent precision, thumbs gliding along the sides of her neck, then pressing firmly into the slope of her shoulders. He could feel the tightness there and worked it patiently, his palms spreading wide to cover as much area as possible.
 
Simran bit her lower lip hard.