Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Simran came downstairs after almost an hour, now wearing the loose white T-shirt and a booty shorts which accentuated her curves especially her ass. The moment she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes were drawn straight to Bhola. He was busy cleaning the last of the dishes, back turned to her, but the thin fabric of his pants did nothing to hide what was happening between his legs.
 
His massive cock was still half-hard, hanging heavy and thick inside the pants, swinging visibly with every small movement he made. The outline was unmistakable — long, fat, and heavy, the fat head nudging against the material as it swayed from side to side. Every time he reached for something, the thick shaft would swing forward and slap softly against his thigh, making the front of his pants shift obscenely.
 
Simran felt a strange mix of emotions hit her all at once. She felt bad that he was working in the kitchen while carrying such a heavy, aching burden between his legs. At the same time, the sight made her pussy clench with fresh heat. She smiled to herself at the dirty little thought — hard time — and the smile turned into a soft, naughty grin.
 
Bhola turned around and caught her smiling.
 
“Kya hua Bhabhi?” he asked, wiping his hands on a towel, completely unaware that his half-hard monster was still swinging heavily in his pants.
 
Simran stepped closer, her voice low and teasing.
 
“Bhola… main phir se yaad dila rahi hoon. Jab ghar mein sirf hum dono ho, tab underwear mat pehna karo. Agar Ravi ghar pe ho toh kam se kam lambi T-shirt pehen lena. Mujhe nahi chahiye ki woh dekhe… aur mujhe yeh bhi nahi chahiye ki tum takleef mein raho. Please apne rakshas ko control mein rakhna.”
“Bhola… I’m reminding you again. When only the two of us are at home, don’t wear underwear. If Ravi is at home, at least wear a long T-shirt. I don’t want him to see… and I also don’t want you to be in trouble. Please keep your monster under control.”
 
Saying that, she came even closer, reached out, and lightly grabbed the thick, half-hard shaft over his pants. Her small hand gave it a slow, deliberate rub from base to head. The heavy cock twitched hard in her palm, flicking upward instantly, becoming even thicker.
 
Bhola sucked in a sharp breath.
 
“Ok Bhabhi…” he murmured, voice a little hoarse.
 
Simran let go quickly, her fingers still tingling from the heat and weight of it.
 
“Bhola, maine dekha hai kitni takleef hoti hogi tumhe. Jab tum apne room mein ho toh pants mat pehna karo. Sochna mat, comfortable raho. Aur sote waqt bhi pant mat pehno.… koi baat nahi.”
“Bhola, I have seen how much trouble it must be causing you. When you are in your room, don’t wear pants. Don’t think too much, stay comfortable. And even while sleeping, don’t wear pants… it’s okay.”
 
Simran felt why did she say all that?
 
Bhola looked at her, surprised but obedient.
 
“Ji Bhabhi…”
 
Simran’s eyes dropped again to the now clearly visible bulge.
 
“Bhola… ye itna sakht kyun ho jata hai har baar?”
“Bhola… why does it become so hard every time?”
 
Bhola opened his mouth to explain, a little shy.
 
“Bhabhi… jab aap aise nazdeek aati ho… aur aapki khushboo…”
“Bhabhi… when you come so close… and your scent…”
 
Simran quickly cut him off with a playful wave of her hand, cheeks burning.
 
“Haan haan… main jaanti hoon tumhara jawab. Ab chhoro… chalo khana kha lete hain.”
“Yes yes… I know your answer. Now leave it… come, let’s eat food.”
 
She turned toward the dining table, but not before giving the front of his pants one last teasing glance. The thick outline of his cock was now even more prominent, pushing hard against the fabric, the head clearly visible as a fat bulge.
 
Bhola followed her to the table, his heavy lund swinging with every step.
 
They had a quiet lunch together at the dining table. Bhola had cooked simple but delicious food — dal, roti, sabzi, and raita. Simran ate slowly, her mind still replaying the morning, while Bhola served her with quiet devotion, wearing only a loose pair of pants with nothing underneath, exactly as she had instructed when they were alone in the house.
 
After lunch, Simran moved to the living room and sank into the soft sofa with a tired but satisfied sigh. She picked up the remote and started flipping through channels, trying to find something mindless to watch.
 
Bhola finished cleaning the dishes in the kitchen and came out into the living room. The thin fabric of his pants did little to hide the heavy outline of his thick cock, which swung softly with every step.
 
He walked straight up to her on the sofa. Without a word, he leaned down, slipped both hands under her loose T-shirt, and casually lifted her heavy breasts from below, as if checking the weight of two ripe mangoes.
 
Simran froze.
 
Bhola gently squeezed and lifted them, feeling their fullness, his thumbs brushing just under the dark areolas. A small bead of milk appeared at her left nipple and rolled down.
 
“Bhabhi, abhi toh doodh nahi bhara hai,” he said, still holding her tits in his palms. “Abhi thode hi full hain. Thoda time do… main baad mein try karunga.”
“Bhabhi, the milk is not filled yet,” he said, still holding her tits in his palms. “They are only a little full right now. Give it some time… I’ll try later.”
 
Simran felt a strange mix of emotions crash over her all at once.
 
Awkwardness — her servant was casually lifting and checking her breasts like it was the most normal thing in the world.
 
Erotic thrill — the way his warm, rough hands felt on her sensitive, milk-heavy tits sent a fresh spark straight to her pussy.
 
And a deep, humiliating sense of foolishness — like she was nothing more than a dairy cow being inspected for milk production.
 
She sat there speechless, mouth slightly open, staring at him. No words came out. Her cheeks burned red, but she didn’t push his hands away.
 
Bhola gave her breasts one last gentle squeeze, as if confirming his assessment, then let them drop back down under her T-shirt. They jiggled heavily as they settled.
 
“Theek hai Bhabhi,” he said calmly. “Main apne room mein ja raha hoon. Jab aapko zarurat pade toh bula lena.”
“Okay Bhabhi,” he said calmly. “I’m going to my room. Call me when you need me.”
 
He turned and walked away toward his room at the back, his thick cock swinging visibly inside his pants with every step.
 
Simran remained on the sofa, stunned, her heart racing. She pulled her T-shirt down properly, trying to compose herself, but her nipples were now rock-hard and clearly poking through the fabric. She could feel fresh wetness between her legs again.
 
She spent the next hour or so watching TV, flipping between channels, but her mind kept drifting back to the morning — Bhola’s massive cock in her mouth, the taste of his thick cum, the way he had carried her up the stairs with his hand buried in her ass.
Eventually, tiredness crept in. She switched off the TV, went upstairs, and changed into something more comfortable for sleep: just a loose, oversized white T-shirt and a simple white panty underneath her booty shorts.
 
She crawled into bed, pulled the sheet over herself, and within minutes fell into a deep, dreamless sleep — the kind of peaceful, exhausted sleep that comes after intense emotional and physical release.