Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Let me suck these big melons and drink all the milk fast. They are so full… I can feel how heavy they are.”
 
He latched onto her right nipple again with a wet, hungry sound, sucking deep and hard. His cheeks hollowed as he pulled with powerful, rhythmic force. Thick streams of warm milk jetted into his mouth, filling him instantly. He swallowed greedily, but still more overflowed, running down his chin and dripping onto her bare stomach in warm white rivulets. His free hand came up to squeeze the soft, heavy globe he was drinking from, milking it downward to force even more milk out.
 
Simran gasped sharply, her body jerking in his grasp.
 
“Bhola… ruk ja… ahh… koi sun lega…”
“Bhola… stop… ahh… someone might hear…”
 
She kept pushing at his shoulders, her palms sliding against his kurta, trying to create space between them. But her legs betrayed her — they instinctively wrapped tighter around his waist for balance, pulling her soaked crotch even closer to the massive, iron-hard bulge in his pants. His cock was fully erect now, thick and throbbing, straining painfully against the thin fabric. Every time she squirmed or kicked her legs lightly in protest, the heavy length of it nudged and rubbed against the soft, covered curve of her ass.
 
The contact was constant. Erotic. Dangerous.
 
Each small struggle she made caused her plump ass cheeks to press and grind against that rigid monster. The thick shaft slid between them through the layers of cloth, the fat head bumping against the underside of her ass again and again. Simran could feel its heat, its impossible girth, the way it pulsed and jerked every time he sucked harder on her tit. Her soaked panty was now rubbing directly against it, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide how wet she was. Fresh slick kept leaking out of her, smearing across the front of his pants with every desperate wiggle.
 
“Bhola… please… mujhe neeche utaar do…”
“Bhola… please… put me down…” she whimpered, pushing at his chest again, but her voice was breaking into soft, needy moans.
 
Bhola simply held her tighter, lifting her higher so her breasts bounced freely in front of his face. He switched to the left tit, latching on with the same greedy hunger.
 
“Mujhe pura choos lene do, Bhabhi,”
“Let me finish, Bhabhi,” he murmured around her nipple, the words muffled and wet.
 
“Yeh bade-bade aam jaise itne bhare hue hain… mujhe sab kuch peena hai… phir main aapko chhod dunga.”
“These big mangos are so full… I need to drink everything… then I will leave you.”
 
He sucked harder, his hand squeezing the soft flesh roughly, forcing thick jets of milk to spray into his mouth. His cock throbbed violently against her ass with every pull, the heavy shaft sliding up and down between her cheeks as she kept squirming in his grasp. The erotic game of resistance only made it worse — every time she pushed him away, her body would rock back against him, grinding her dripping pussy and soft ass harder against his iron-hard cock.
 
Simran’s mind was spinning.
 
He’s so hard… God, I can feel every inch of it against my ass. It’s so thick… so hot… every time I move it rubs right between my cheeks. I’m soaking through my shorts. I’m going to cum again just from this… from him holding me in the air and sucking my tits while his cock grinds against me…
 
She kept protesting weakly, pushing at his shoulders, her legs kicking lightly in the air.
 
“Bhola… koi… ahh… aa sakta hai…”
“Bhola… someone… ahh… might come…”
 
But her body kept betraying her — hips rolling subtly, ass pressing back against that massive, throbbing bulge, chasing the friction even as she pretended to fight him.
 
Bhola remained completely focused, innocent in his determination, sucking her tits like the only thing that mattered was emptying her completely. His cock kept nudging and rubbing against her covered ass with every small movement she made, the thick head pressing insistently between her cheeks through the thin layers of cloth.
 
The game continued — erotic, tense, and utterly filthy — with Simran suspended in his strong arms, protesting and moaning at the same time, while Bhola drank from her like he would never let her go.
 
And neither of them wanted it to end.
 
Bhola’s precum had already soaked through the front of his pants long ago. The thick, dark fabric at the front of his crotch was visibly wet, a large damp patch spreading outward from where the swollen head of his monster cock pressed insistently against the material. Every time Simran squirmed or kicked her legs lightly in half-hearted protest, the heavy shaft would throb and leak more, smearing fresh precum across the inside of his pants.
 
Simran was leaking just as badly from below. Her white panty was completely ruined — the thin cotton crotch plastered transparently to her swollen pink pussy lips, the fabric dark and shiny with her slick. Fresh waves of her arousal kept gushing out with every powerful suck from Bhola’s mouth, running down her inner thighs in hot, slippery trails and soaking into the waistband of her shorts.
 
He was only half done.
 
Bhola suddenly released her left tit with a loud, wet pop. A thick string of milk stretched between his swollen lips and her dark, glistening nipple before snapping. He looked up at her for a split second, then did his signature move — the one that always broke her.