Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Chandigarh

 
Simran stepped out of the bathroom completely naked, her skin still glistening with droplets from the cold shower. The water had done nothing to cool the fire still raging inside her. Her body felt heavy, languid, and hypersensitive — every nerve ending alive and buzzing. Her breasts hung full and tender, nipples dark and erect, still leaking slow, warm trails of milk that ran down the undersides and dripped from the tips onto the floor. Between her legs, her pussy was swollen and slick, the lips puffy and parted, her clit throbbing visibly with every heartbeat. She looked like a woman freshly fucked — flushed, wet, and glowing with that post-orgasmic haze — even though no cock had touched her.
 
She was in a complete trance.
 
Twice she had cum today — once from Bhola’s hungry mouth on her tits in the kitchen, once from the relentless massage that had turned into something far more intimate. The eroticism of it all — the way he had sucked her like he owned her, the taste of her own milk on his lips, the way her body had betrayed her again and again — had left her mind foggy and her limbs weak. She moved like someone walking through a dream, barely aware of her own actions.
 
She didn’t bother with a towel. She simply walked to the wardrobe, pulled out the first things her hands found — a loose, soft white cotton short that barely reached mid-thigh and a matching oversized button-down shirt in the same pale shade. She slipped them on without underwear. The shirt hung open at the top, the fabric brushing her sensitive nipples with every movement. The shorts clung lightly to her still-damp pussy, the crotch already starting to darken again from the constant low throb between her legs.
 
She ran her fingers roughly through her wet hair, not even bothering to dry it properly, and collapsed onto the bed. The moment her head hit the pillow, exhaustion pulled her under like a heavy tide. She drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep within seconds.
 
But the dreams came soon enough.
 
In the dream, she was standing in an endless white room filled with warm, cascading water. It poured over her naked body like a gentle waterfall — running down her neck, between her heavy breasts, over her soft belly, and between her thighs. Ravi was there in the background, a distant silhouette, watching silently. He looked calm, almost approving.
 
Then the scene shifted.
 
Suddenly she was no longer under water. She was standing in the middle of the room, legs spread, breasts impossibly full and heavy. Milk began spraying from her nipples in powerful, continuous arcs — thick white jets shooting outward like fountains. Bhola appeared in front of her, naked from the waist up, trying desperately to reach her. He walked forward, arms outstretched, but the force of her milk sprays was too strong. The streams hit his chest, his face, his shoulders, pushing him back like powerful jets of water. He kept trying, stepping forward again and again, but the milk kept blasting him backward, drenching him completely until his skin shone white and sticky.
 
Simran watched herself in the dream, moaning softly, her hands cupping her own breasts, squeezing them to make the sprays even stronger. She felt powerful. She felt desired. She felt filthy.
 
Then Bhola’s pants suddenly tore away with a loud rip.
 
His cock sprang free — huge, gigantic, an absolute anaconda of a thing. It was already rock-hard, thicker than her wrist, veins bulging along the shaft, the swollen head dark and angry. And it kept growing. Longer. Thicker. Pulsing. The sheer size of it made her gasp in the dream. It curved upward aggressively, the head glistening with pre-cum, easily fourteen inches now and still swelling.
 
The sight distracted her completely.
 
In one swift, powerful motion, the massive cock lunged forward and shoved itself straight into her open mouth. Simran’s eyes widened in shock as her lips stretched obscenely around the thick head. The shaft slid deeper, filling her mouth, pressing against her tongue, hitting the back of her throat. She gagged for a second, then moaned around it as the first powerful spurt of his cum flooded her mouth.
 
Thick, hot, salty ropes of cum pumped endlessly into her. It overflowed instantly — spilling from the corners of her stretched lips, running down her chin in creamy white rivers, dripping onto her heaving breasts. She tried to swallow but there was too much. She started drinking greedily instead, gulping down as much as she could while the rest poured over her face, her neck, her tits, drenching her completely.
 
In the background, Ravi was shouting something — inaudible, distant, frantic — but she didn’t care. She was in heaven. She wrapped both hands around the massive shaft, stroking what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, milking him for more. Her pussy was gushing, thighs shaking, body trembling with ultimate, overwhelming pleasure as she drank and drank and drank.
 
The dream continued, looping, getting filthier, her body writhing on the bed in real life as she slept.
 
Simran’s dream refused to let her go.
 
She was still on her knees in that endless white room, the warm waterfall of milk spraying powerfully from her heavy breasts in thick, continuous arcs. Bhola stood before her, drenched and glistening, his massive cock buried deep in her mouth. The thick shaft pulsed against her tongue as rope after rope of hot, salty cum flooded her throat. She swallowed desperately, gulping down as much as she could, but it was too much. Creamy white cum spilled from the corners of her stretched lips, running in thick rivers down her chin, dripping onto her heaving tits and mixing with her own milk.
 
In the far background, Ravi was still shouting something — his voice distorted and distant, like he was screaming from underwater — but she couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t care. The taste of Bhola’s cum mixed with her own sweet milk on her tongue was driving her wild. Her pussy was gushing, thighs shaking, body trembling with pure, overwhelming pleasure.