Passion took over before she could think. She rose up on her elbows, lifting her head just enough to close the distance. Her lips brushed his — not a kiss at first, just a desperate press to catch the next drop faster. Then her tongue slipped out, licking slowly across his lower lip, tasting herself on him again. The sweetness burst across her tongue — warm, creamy, slightly salty — and a soft, needy whimper escaped her throat.
Bhola’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. He simply opened his mouth wider, letting the pooled milk flow directly from him into her.
The warm stream poured in — slow at first, then steadier — filling her mouth with her own milk. It was thicker than she expected, richer, sliding over her tongue like liquid velvet. She swallowed once, twice, the taste flooding her senses. Her pussy clenched hard in response, another hot gush of slick soaking through her panty.
She gave one last small, lingering lick across his upper lip, catching the final drop, before slowly lowering her head back to the pillow. Her eyes stayed closed for a moment, savouring it.
“Haan… yeh tasty hai, Bhola,” she whispered, voice thick and trembling. “Thodi der baad baar-baar dete rehna… jaise tumhe theek lage.”
(“Yes… it’s tasty, Bhola,” she whispered, voice thick and trembling. “Keep giving me after some time… as you seem fit.”)
Bhola blinked, still hovering close, processing her words. His innocent mind was working overtime.
How do I know when to give her more? Do I wait until my mouth is completely full again? What if I give too little? What if I give too much and it spills? Bhabhi wants her share… I must be careful. I must not waste even one drop of her precious milk. This is important. She is trusting me with this. I will watch her face. If she looks like she wants more, I will collect it and give it to her. I must do it right.
He nodded quietly. “Okay, Bhabhi.”
Simran opened her eyes and saw him just sitting there, frozen, clearly overthinking. She bit her lip, then reached down with her left hand, cupped her left breast from below, and lifted it slightly toward him. Her eyes met his — shy but clear.
Bhola understood immediately.
He dived back in like a hungry lion.
His mouth latched onto her left tit with fresh hunger, sucking hard and deep from the very first second. His cheeks hollowed dramatically as he pulled with powerful, rhythmic force. Milk jetted into his mouth in thick, forceful streams. He gulped greedily, but kept some in reserve this time, cheeks slightly puffed, eyes closed in concentration. His hands came up to squeeze both breasts firmly, milking them downward, forcing more milk out while he worked.
Simran gasped sharply, her back arching off the sofa.
“Ahh… Bhola…”
She was lost in it now — the wet, filthy sounds of his sucking, the feeling of her milk being drawn out so forcefully, the way her pussy throbbed in time with every pull. Her left hand stayed on the back of his head, guiding him, while her right hand gripped the sofa cushion tightly.
Bhola filled his mouth again, then pulled back slowly.
He moved up to her lips once more.
Simran’s eyes were closed, but the moment she felt his mouth brush hers, she lifted her chin instinctively. Her lips parted. He opened his mouth gently, and the warm milk flowed directly into hers again. She swallowed it down with soft, greedy little sounds, tasting herself on his tongue.
They did it twice more.
Each time he collected a fresh mouthful, moved up, and fed her directly from his lips. Each time Simran lifted her chin to receive it, their mouths brushing in the most intimate, forbidden way.
On the third kiss, it became too much.
The moment the warm milk poured into her mouth and their lips touched, the orgasm crashed through her without warning. Her whole body seized up. Her legs squeezed together tightly, knees folding up toward her chest as violent shivers ripped through her. Her pussy spasmed hard, gushing fresh slick into her already ruined panty. A broken, muffled moan vibrated against his mouth as she came hard — trembling, shaking, completely overwhelmed.
When it finally passed, she pulled back just enough to gasp with heavy, ragged breaths:
“Finish my milk fast, Bhola… please…”
Bhola didn’t need to be told twice.
He dove back onto her left tit like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He sucked with savage intensity — deep, brutal, almost violent pulls that made her entire breast stretch and jiggle in his mouth. His hands mauled both tits roughly now, squeezing and kneading with desperate strength, milking every last drop out of her. Milk sprayed across his face in messy arcs. He gulped and gulped, swallowing noisily, refusing to let even a single drop escape.
Simran moaned helplessly, her voice raw and broken:
“Aaahhhh… aaahhhh… ahhhh…”
Her hands clutched the sofa cushions, body arching, legs trembling as another smaller orgasm rolled through her from the sheer intensity of his sucking.
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