Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Every stroke felt like lightning. The pressure of his strong fingers sent waves of heat blooming through her body, making her belly flutter and her pussy clench involuntarily. She couldn’t understand the signals her body was screaming at her. This was supposed to be innocent. This was supposed to be just a massage. Yet her thighs were already trembling, her panty growing damper by the second.
 
“Ahh…” she let out a soft sound when he pressed a particularly tight spot between her shoulder blades.
 
“Yahan dard ho raha hai, Bhabhi?” Bhola asked quietly, his voice calm and professional.
(“Does it pain here, Bhabhi?” Bhola asked quietly, his voice calm and professional.)
 
“A little… yes…” she breathed, the word coming out shakier than she intended.
 
He continued downward, his hands gliding over her upper back, then the middle, pressing and kneading with careful strength. The nightie was thin, and she could feel the heat of his palms through the fabric as if she were naked. When his fingers reached the small of her back, just above the curve of her ass, Simran had to bury her face deeper into her arms to stop herself from moaning out loud.
 
Bhola remained utterly innocent. To him, this was work. He was checking for knots, nothing more. His mind was focused only on making Bhabhi feel better.
 
But for Simran, every touch was torture of the sweetest kind. Her skin was on fire. Goosebumps erupted across her arms and the backs of her thighs. Her heavy breasts ached where they were pressed against the bed, milk slowly leaking as her body responded to his touch like it was made for him.
 
After finishing her back, Bhola stood up and moved to the foot of the bed.
 
“Ab main aapke pairon ke unglio se shuru karunga, Bhabhi. Isse poora sharir ko faayda hota hai.”
(“Now I will start from the toes, Bhabhi. It helps the whole body.”)
 
He stood directly behind her, looking down at her stretched-out form. The view was mesmerising. The sky-blue nightie had ridden up slightly, revealing the full length of her milky-white thighs — smooth, thick, and impossibly soft. The hem stopped just below the lower curve of her ass, giving him a perfect view of how the nightie dbangd over her rounded cheeks. Her legs were slightly parted, and the way the fabric clung to the shape of her body made it look almost obscene. The gentle swell of her ass, the deep cleft hinted at beneath the thin cotton, the smooth backs of her thighs disappearing under the nightie — it was a sight that would have driven any man wild. But Bhola saw only the practical need to ease her pain.
 
He poured more oil into his palms and started at her toes.
 
His strong fingers wrapped around her right foot first, thumbs pressing into the sole, working upward with slow, firm strokes. He moved to her calves, kneading the tight muscles with care, his hands gliding higher and higher. The nightie shifted as he worked, riding up further, exposing more of her creamy thighs. When he reached the backs of her thighs, he used both hands, pressing deeply into the soft, plush flesh, working the oil into her skin with long, sensual strokes that made her bite the pillow to stay quiet.
 
Then he moved to her buttocks.
 
This was the area that needed the most attention, he decided. His large hands covered each cheek completely, squeezing and kneading with firm, circular motions. The nightie was thin enough that he could feel the heat of her skin through it. He pressed his thumbs into the tight spots where her lower back met her ass, working out the imaginary knots with slow, deep pressure.
 
Simran was losing her mind.
 
Every squeeze of his hands on her ass sent a fresh jolt straight to her clit. Her pussy was throbbing now, leaking steadily into her panty, the fabric sticking wetly to her swollen lips. She could feel her asshole clench involuntarily every time his thumbs pressed near the cleft. Her breasts were leaking more freely, two large wet patches forming under her chest. Her thighs trembled visibly.
 
“Ahh… there… yes…” she moaned softly into the pillow when he found a particularly sensitive spot on her right cheek, the sound muffled but unmistakably needy.
 
Bhola continued working, completely innocent, thinking only of helping her. His hands were strong and confident, pressing, kneading, spreading the warm oil until her entire lower body glowed with it.
 
But for Simran, this was pure erotic torment.
 
She was lying there, face down, nightie ridden up, ass being massaged by the same man who had been sucking her tits for days, while her husband was at the office. Her body was screaming for more. Her mind was spinning with shame and desire.
 
And Bhola had no idea what he was doing to her.
 
He simply continued the massage, his hands moving with calm, innocent dedication across the most intimate parts of her body, while Simran fought a losing battle against the overwhelming sensations flooding through her.
 
Bhola poured a small amount of the warm oil mixture into his palm, rubbing his hands together to distribute it evenly. The scent bloomed instantly—sweet almond carrying the creamy vanilla, sandalwood adding its deep woody warmth, ylang-ylang floating in with exotic floral sweetness, and clary sage lending a clean, almost herbal freshness that somehow made the whole blend feel luxurious and calming at once.
 
He knelt behind Simran on the bed, knees bracketing her hips without touching her, and gently gathered her long dark hair in both hands. He lifted it away from her neck first, letting the strands spill over his forearms like heavy silk, then slowly parted it down the middle so he could reach her scalp.