Ravi came home much later than usual, around 9 PM. Simran was still asleep when she heard the main door open. She woke up groggily and came downstairs to find him removing his shoes.
“You’re late today,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
Ravi looked tired. He walked up to her and gave her a quick hug.
“Yeah… had a long day. I need to talk to you about something.”
They sat in the living room. Ravi didn’t waste time.
“I have to go out of the country tomorrow,” he said. “The Bangalore project has moved faster than expected. They want me to go to Korea for a few days to understand their system before we start work in India. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”
Simran sat up straighter. “Tomorrow? For how long?”
“Just a couple of days. Maximum four or five. I’ll try to wrap it up quickly.”
She frowned, clearly worried. “But… you just came back from Bangalore. And now suddenly Korea?”
“I know,” Ravi sighed. “It’s sudden. But this is a big project, Simran. I have to go.”
There was a short silence before Ravi spoke again.
“Listen… since I’ll be away, why don’t you go to your sister’s place in Bangalore for a few days? You’ll have company, and I won’t have to worry about you staying alone in the house.”
Simran shook her head immediately.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll manage here. Bhola will be back tomorrow morning anyway. He said he’ll return after checking on his father.”
Ravi looked at her for a moment, as if he wanted to argue, but then nodded.
“Okay… if you’re sure. Just be careful. And call me if you need anything.”
They had a quiet dinner together. Ravi looked exhausted, and Simran didn’t push him for more details. After dinner, they went upstairs. Ravi changed and fell asleep quickly, clearly drained from the day.
Simran lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling.
The next morning, Ravi woke up early and packed a small suitcase. He moved quietly around the room while Simran sat on the bed, watching him. By 9 AM, he was ready to leave.
He kissed her on the forehead.
“Take care of yourself. I’ll call you once I reach Korea. And don’t hesitate to call Bhola if you need anything, okay?”
Simran nodded. “Safe travels. Text me when you land.”
After Ravi left, the house once again felt empty. Simran had her breakfast alone and then went to the small garden at the back of the house. She needed some fresh air. She was watering the plants and pulling out a few weeds when she suddenly heard the front door open.
The sound made her pause.
She stood still for a second, listening. The gate had opened, and someone had stepped inside.
Simran slowly put down the watering can and turned toward the house, wondering who it could be.
Simran had just stepped out of the bedroom, still wearing the short, loose nightie from the previous night. The thin fabric barely reached the top of her thighs, and without a bra, her heavy breasts swayed freely underneath, the dark outlines of her nipples clearly visible. She had kept on a small white panty, but the rest of her body was barely covered. She looked like pure temptation — a beautiful, curvy wife dressed for sin in her own home.
She was heading toward the bathroom when the doorbell rang.
Her heart jumped. She walked to the door and opened it.
Bhola stood there, bag in hand, his clothes slightly dusty from the journey. The moment their eyes met, a flash of lightning lit up the sky behind him, followed by a low rumble of thunder.
Without a single word, Bhola dropped his bag on the floor, stepped inside, and kicked the door shut behind him. In one powerful motion, he grabbed Simran by the waist and lifted her clean off the ground. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, straddling him as he pushed her back against the wall.
Their mouths crashed together in a hungry, desperate kiss. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, filthy, and full of pent-up need. Tongues slid deep, sucking and licking, spit mixing messily as they devoured each other like they had been starving for days.
“Mmmphhh… ummmmm…” Simran moaned into his mouth, her hands gripping the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
Bhola broke the kiss only for a second, growling against her lips.
“Bhabhi… main bahut miss kar raha tha aapko… aapki chuchiyan… aapka muh… sab kuch…”
“Bhabhi… I was missing you so much… your boobs… your mouth… everything…”
Then he kissed her again, harder, his tongue fucking her mouth while his hands roamed over her body.
He couldn’t wait.
With one rough pull, he yanked the thin straps of her nightie down her shoulders. The fabric tore slightly at the seams as he tugged it down to her waist, freeing her heavy, milk-filled breasts. They bounced out, full and soft, nipples already stiff and leaking.
Bhola latched onto her right tit like a starving animal. He sucked hard and deep, taking a large portion of the soft flesh into his mouth. Milk jetted against his tongue in thick, warm streams.
“Aaahhhhh… Bhola…!” Simran cried out, her head falling back against the wall, her legs tightening around his waist.
He was sucking like a man possessed — loud, greedy, animalistic pulls that made wet, obscene slurping sounds echo in the hallway. Milk leaked from the corners of his mouth, running down his chin and dripping onto her stomach and the front of his shirt.
It had not even been 24 hours since he had left, but the moment he walked back in, he was ravishing her like he had been denied for weeks.
Simran’s hands gripped his hair, pulling him harder against her breast.
“Choos le… pi le mera doodh… aaahhh… itna zor se mat… meri chuchiyan… aaahhh… Bhola… tu pagal ho gaya hai…”
“Suck… drink my milk… aaahhh… not so hard… my boobs… aaahhh… Bhola… you have gone mad…”
Bhola switched to the left tit, sucking even harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive nipple. Milk sprayed across his face as he drank from her like he was addicted. His hands squeezed both breasts roughly, milking them downward, forcing more milk to flow.
Simran was moaning nonstop, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, grinding her soaked panty against the hard bulge in his pants.
She leaned down and started kissing his face — his forehead, his cheeks, his lips — tasting her own milk on his skin while he continued to devour her tits.
“Ummmm… Bhola… tu mera doodh pi raha hai jaise bhookha ho… aaahhh… choos le… pi le sab… meri chuchiyan teri hain aaj…”
Bhola growled against her breast, sucking harder, his face now completely covered in her milk. He was lost in her — in the softness, in the taste, in the way her body responded to him.
Simran’s head fell back again, her moans growing louder as he kept sucking like a man who had been denied for years.
The front door was barely closed, and already the house was filled with the filthy, wet sounds of Bhola drinking from his married Bhabhi’s tits while she moaned like a whore in his arms.
And neither of them wanted to stop.
Bhola didn’t even give Simran time to think.
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