Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Control, Bhabhi,” he said softly, almost scolding in that innocent village way. “Yeh nazaakat wale lekin bahut zaroori jagahen hain. Yahan ke nerves poore sharir se judte hain. Agar main sahi se dabaoonga, to aapki peeth ka dard jaldi chala jayega.”
(“Control, Bhabhi,” he said softly, almost scolding in that innocent village way. “These are delicate but very important spots. The nerves here connect to the whole body. If I press properly, the pain in your back will go away faster.”)
 
He continued, thumbs gliding between her toes, rolling each one slowly, spreading the fragrant oil. Simran squirmed, giggling helplessly, her other leg kicking up in protest. The nightie rode higher with every movement, the hem sliding up the backs of her thighs until the soft cotton barely covered the lower curve of her ass.
 
Both of them started laughing — quiet at first, then louder. Bhola’s deep, boyish chuckle mixed with her light, breathless giggles as she kept trying to escape his grasp, legs flailing playfully while he held on with gentle determination.
 
“Bhola… ruk ja… main—nahi kar sakti!”
(“Bhola… stop… I can’t!”)
 
“Bas thoda sa aur, Bhabhi. Bas relax kar lijiye…”
(“Only a little more, Bhabhi. Just relax…”)
 
After a few more attempts, she finally gave up, collapsing back onto the bed with a defeated, laughing sigh. Her nightie had now bunched up significantly, the hem resting high on her upper thighs, leaving the smooth, milky-white backs of her legs completely exposed.
 
Bhola smiled, satisfied.
 
“Theek hai… phir pair se hi try karta hoon.”
(“Okay… let me try with the leg then.”)
 
He poured more oil into his palms and started at her right calf. His strong hands wrapped around the muscle, thumbs pressing deep into the tight flesh, gliding upward in long, firm strokes. The oil made everything slick and warm. He worked the calf thoroughly, then moved higher, his palms spreading wide over the back of her thigh.
 
And that was when Simran’s breath truly caught.
 
Her thighs were breathtaking — thick, soft, and impossibly smooth, the colour of fresh cream. Years of yoga and good genes had given them a perfect blend of strength and feminine plushness. The skin was flawless, glowing under the thin layer of oil, with a gentle dimple at the back of each knee that made them look even softer. As his hands slid higher, the nightie rode up further, revealing the full, lush expanse of her upper thighs. They were the kind of thighs that could wrap around a man’s waist and hold him deep, the kind that jiggled just the right amount when she walked, the kind powerful men would pay fortunes just to bury their face between.
 
And between those magnificent thighs lay the forbidden cave.
 
Even though her white panty still covered her, the thin cotton had ridden up slightly from all the movement, clinging wetly to her swollen pussy lips. The outline was unmistakable — plump outer lips, puffy and full, the fabric darkened where her arousal had soaked through. The crotch was stretched tight, the seam pressing between her folds, hinting at the exquisite treasure hidden beneath: her beautiful pink pussy, slick and glistening, the inner lips slightly parted, clit swollen and peeking out, begging for attention. It was the kind of pussy that looked innocent and sinful at the same time — soft, puffy, and dripping with need, the most exquisite treasure any man could come looking for. Not like the magic words “Khul Ja Sim Sim” that opened a cave of wonders in Aladdin’s story. No. This treasure required something far more powerful.
 
And Bhola had his own magic wand.
 
It lay heavy and thick between his own legs, hidden inside his pants, already half-hard from the feel of her soft skin under his hands. He had no idea what it was doing to her, no idea that the mere sight of it earlier had burned itself into her memory. He simply continued the massage, innocent as ever, his palms gliding higher, thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh where her thighs met her ass.
 
Simran was lost.
 
Her face was buried in the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, teeth biting into the fabric to stop herself from moaning out loud. Every slow stroke of his hands on her thighs sent fresh waves of heat straight to her core. Her pussy was throbbing now, clenching rhythmically, leaking steadily into the panty until the cotton was drenched. She could feel her asshole twitching every time his thumbs brushed close to the cleft of her ass. Her breasts were leaking freely again, two large wet patches spreading under her chest.
 
She was fighting it so hard.
 
This is just a massage. Just a massage. His hands are on my thighs. That’s all. Don’t think about how close he is to my pussy. Don’t think about how wet you are. Don’t think about how good it would feel if he just… slid his fingers higher…
 
But the devil inside her was merciless.
 
Look at him. Kneeling behind you. Hands all over your soft, thick thighs. So close to your dripping cunt. One small movement and he could pull that panty aside. One small movement and he could bury his face between those thighs and drink from you down there too. You want it. You’re dying for it. You’re already imagining his tongue on your clit while he sucks your tits at the same time.
 
She gripped the pillow tighter, hips shifting restlessly, trying desperately to control the growing need. Her breathing had turned into soft, shaky pants.
 
Bhola remained completely innocent, focused only on easing her “back pain.” His hands continued their slow, thorough journey up her thighs, thumbs pressing deep into the soft flesh, spreading the warm oil until her skin glistened.