Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Her body finally got some rest, even as her mind and pussy continued to simmer with new, dangerous desires.
 
It was around 5 PM when Simran suddenly woke up to the soft sound of footsteps. Bhola was standing beside the bed, holding a cup of steaming tea in his hands. She was still lying on her side, wearing only the loose white T-shirt and tiny booty shorts that had ridden up high during sleep. The shorts had bunched up completely, exposing the lower half of her plump, heart-shaped ass cheeks. The white fabric of the panty underneath was visible, slightly wedged between her soft mounds.
 
Bhola had assumed she would be awake and had brought the tea without knocking.
Simran blinked sleepily, sat up, and smiled at him.
 
“Thank you, Bhola,” she said softly, taking the cup from his hands.
 
He nodded quietly and left the room without saying much.
 
Simran got up, washed her face, freshened up, and took the tea to the balcony. The weather had turned cloudy and heavy. Dark clouds were gathering, and it looked like it might rain heavily tonight. The cool breeze felt nice on her skin as she sipped the tea, her mind still hazy from the deep afternoon sleep.
 
After finishing her tea, she went downstairs. Bhola had just finished his own chores and was sitting in the kitchen, drinking his tea. His pants were on, but nothing underneath, exactly as she had told him. Even though his cock was now flaccid, it was still a thick, heavy log hanging inside the thin fabric, the outline clearly visible whenever he moved.
 
Simran had totally forgotten about his erection for a moment. She walked into the kitchen and spoke casually.
 
“Bhola, aaj shaam ke liye kya banaye? Main paneer banana chahti hoon.”
“Bhola, what should I make for this evening? I want to make paneer.”
 
Bhola finished his tea and stood up.
 
“Bhabhi, maine already kuch cheezein taiyar kar li hain. Baaki aap batao — aap khud cook karna chahti ho ya main karun?”
“Bhabhi, I have already prepared some things. Rest you tell — do you want to cook yourself or should I do it?”
 
Simran smiled. “Main help karungi. Saath mein karte hain.”
Simran smiled. “I’ll help. Let’s do it together.”
 
They started working together in the kitchen. Simran was busy chopping vegetables and stirring something on the stove when Bhola suddenly came up behind her.
 
Without warning, his big hands slid under her loose T-shirt from behind and grabbed both her heavy breasts. He lifted them up firmly, squeezing the soft, full flesh as he leaned in close to her ear.
 
“Bhabhi… aap apna kaam karte raho… lekin aapki chuchiyan phir se doodh se bhari hui hain. Agar aap ijazat do toh main abhi choos lun… aap cook karte hue hi.”
“Bhabhi… you keep doing your work… but your boobs are full of milk again. If you allow, I’ll suck them right now… while you are cooking.”
 
Before Simran could even reply, Bhola had already lifted her T-shirt up from behind. His head ducked under the fabric and his hot mouth found her left tit. He latched on like a starving man and started sucking hard and deep.
 
“Aaahhh… Bhola…!” Simran moaned loudly, her body jerking forward against the counter. Milk immediately jetted into his mouth in thick streams. He sucked like his life depended on it — loud, greedy, wet slurping sounds filling the kitchen as he drank from her leaking breast.
 
“Bhola… wait… aaahhh… dheere… zor se mat chooso…”
“Bhola… wait… aaahhh… slowly… don’t suck so hard…”
 
But Bhola was too far gone. He switched to the right tit, sucking even harder, squeezing both heavy breasts roughly with his hands while milk sprayed and leaked everywhere.
 
Simran’s knees felt weak. She placed both hands on the counter to steady herself, moaning helplessly.
 
“Bhola… bus kar… aaahhh fuck… itna zor se mat kheech… meri chuchiyan phat jayengi…”
“Bhola… stop… aaahhh fuck… don’t pull so hard… my boobs will tear…”
 
She tried to scold him but her voice came out as a broken moan.
 
“Bhola… T-shirt utaar do… is tarah mushkil ho raha hai.”
“Bhola… take off my T-shirt… it’s getting difficult like this.”
 
Bhola didn’t waste a single second. He pulled his mouth off her tit with a wet pop, grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, and yanked it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Her heavy, swaying breasts bounced free completely — full, round, red-marked from his sucking, nipples dark and leaking.
 
Now she stood in the kitchen wearing only her tiny booty shorts, completely topless, tits out and jiggling as Bhola immediately latched back onto her right breast and started sucking again like a maniac.
 
“Mmmph… choos le… pi le mera doodh… aaahhh Bhola… tu aaj bilkul jaanwar ban gaya hai…”
“Mmmph… suck… drink my milk… aaahhh Bhola… you have become a complete animal today…”
 
Bhola growled against her tit, sucking harder, milk running down his chin as he drank greedily.
The kitchen was filled with the wet, filthy sounds of him nursing from her breasts while Simran moaned and trembled against the counter, her pussy already getting wet again.
 
The rain outside was starting to fall, but inside the house, things were getting much hotter.
 
Simran was breathing heavily, her heavy breasts heaving as Bhola sucked hungrily from her right tit. After a few seconds, she managed to whisper between gasps:
 
“Mujhe bhool mat jana…”
“Don’t forget me…”
 
Bhola understood immediately. He sucked long and deep, filling his mouth with a huge load of warm, sweet milk. Then he pulled off with a wet pop, grabbed her face with both hands, and crushed his mouth against hers in a deep, filthy smooch.
 
He pushed the thick, creamy milk straight into her mouth. Simran moaned loudly into the kiss, swallowing greedily as their tongues tangled. Milk and spit mixed messily between them, some of it spilling from the corners of their lips and dripping down her chin onto her tits.
 
When he finally broke the smooch, strings of milk connected their mouths. Without wasting a second, Bhola lifted both her heavy breasts from below and attacked them again — alternating between left and right, sucking long and hard. Each powerful pull made Simran gasp sharply.
 
“Aaahhhhh… Bhola… fuck…”
 
Before she could moan more, he would pull off and kiss her again, feeding her another mouthful of her own warm milk. This time Simran’s tongue came out eagerly, probing deep into his mouth, licking and sucking on his tongue like a desperate slut.
 
Bhola lost control. Involuntarily, as a reflex, he grabbed her plump ass with both hands and lifted her clean off the floor, pulling her onto his lap while still standing. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as they continued kissing like long-lost lovers — deep, wet, messy kisses full of milk and spit.
 
The kadhai on the stove suddenly made a loud sizzling sound, the food ready for the next step. The noise jolted Simran back to reality. She pushed him away with both hands, gasping.
 
“Bhola… ruk… ruk ja…”
“Bhola… stop… stop…”
 
She slid down, turned around quickly, and faced the stove again, now completely topless, her heavy breasts swaying freely as she tried to focus on cooking. Milk was still leaking from her stiff nipples, running down her chest.
 
But Bhola wasn’t done.