Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

The moment she stepped into the hall, Bhola saw her from the kitchen. He immediately came forward, concern written across his face.
 
“Bhabhi… aap theek hain? Aap itni der se so rahi thi.”
“Bhabhi… are you fine? You slept for so long.”
 
Simran gave him a small, tired smile.
 
“Bahot bhuk lagi hai, Bhola. Mainne lunch nehi kiya.”
“I’m very hungry, Bhola. I skipped lunch.”
 
Bhola nodded quickly and moved to the kitchen counter. Within a minute he brought her a plate of snacks — warm aloo tikki, some roasted peanuts, and a glass of powdered milk mixed with a little sugar and cardamom the way she liked it.
 
“Ab yeh kha lijiye, Bhabhi. Dinner jaldi se taiyaar ho jayega.”
“Eat this now, Bhabhi. Dinner will be ready soon.”
 
Simran took the plate and glass, murmuring a soft thank you. Her nipples were leaking again — small wet spots already forming on the front of her loose shirt. Bhola noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stepped closer and reached for the top button of her shirt, fingers ready to open it so he could suck her properly.
 
Simran felt a sudden rush of awkwardness. She stepped back quickly, one hand coming up to hold her shirt closed.
 
“Bhola… tum har baar mujhse milte hi mujhe choosne lagte ho,”
“Bhola… you just suck me every time I meet you,” she said, half-teasing, half-embarrassed, her voice soft.
 
Bhola paused, then stepped forward again, his expression innocent but determined. He reached for the buttons once more. Simran stepped back again, a small, nervous laugh escaping her. It turned into a strange, playful game of catch and release — Bhola gently advancing, Simran retreating with shy little steps, both of them moving around the living room like lovers dancing around a secret.
 
He tried one more time, reaching for her shirt. Simran backed away, giggling nervously, but this time Bhola moved faster. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her clean off the floor in one smooth motion. Simran let out a surprised gasp, her legs kicking lightly in the air for a second.
 
“Bhola—!”
 
With his other hand he quickly unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt. The fabric parted instantly, exposing her full, heavy right breast. The dark nipple was already leaking, a thick white bead rolling down the curve. Bhola didn’t waste another second. He lunged forward, mouth open, and latched onto her right tit with raw hunger. He sucked hard and deep, cheeks hollowing immediately as thick streams of milk jetted into his mouth.
 
Simran moaned sharply, her body going limp in his grasp for a moment.
 
“Aaahhh…”
 
She tried to protest — hands pushing weakly at his shoulders — but the pleasure hit her too fast. Her legs stopped kicking. Her head fell back slightly as Bhola drank from her like a man who had been waiting all day. His mouth made loud, wet, greedy sounds, milk spilling from the corners of his lips and running down her exposed breast in warm white rivers.
 
Simran’s resistance melted away in seconds. Her hands moved to the back of his head instead, fingers sliding into his hair, holding him there as he sucked.
 
The game was over.
 
And both of them knew it had only just begun again.
 
Bhola kept her suspended effortlessly in the air, one strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her body weight like she weighed nothing at all. Her legs dangled helplessly on either side of his hips, toes barely brushing the floor. The loose white short had ridden up high on her thighs from all the squirming, the hem barely covering the curve of her ass. Her matching loose shirt hung open, both heavy breasts completely exposed and bouncing softly with every small movement she made.
 
“Main choos kar hi aapko chhorunga, Bhabhi,”
“I will suck and then only leave you, Bhabhi,” Bhola murmured against her right nipple, his voice low and determined, lips brushing the wet, swollen peak as he spoke.
 
“Jaise maine vaada kiya tha. Main sab kuch khatam kar dunga.”
“As I promised. I will finish everything.”
 
Simran’s hands pushed weakly at his shoulders, her fingers pressing against the solid muscle there.
 
“Bhola… koi aa jayega… Ravi bhi aata hi hoga… please… mujhe neeche utaar do…”
“Bhola… someone will come… Ravi might be about to return… please… put me down…”
 
But her protests were breathless, half-hearted, her voice cracking every time he sucked harder. Bhola didn’t listen. He simply tightened his grip around her waist, lifting her a little higher so her breasts were perfectly level with his face.
 
“Koi nahi aayega, Bhabhi,”
“No one will come, Bhabhi,”
 
he said calmly, almost reassuringly, as if he were stating a simple fact.
 
“In bade-bade tarboozon ko choos kar saara doodh jaldi pee leta hoon. Bahut bhare hue hain… mujhe mehsoos ho raha hai kitne bhari hain.”