[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Only after several long minutes did he finally lift her slightly and let his cock slide free.
 
It came out with a wet, filthy *pop*.
 
The moment the thick head left her stretched entrance, a heavy gush of cum followed — a thick, creamy mixture of his load and her own juices that poured out of her open pussy and splattered onto the shower floor. More kept leaking in slow, heavy pulses. Simran’s legs could not hold her. She slid down and sat heavily on the wet tiles, back against the wall, thighs open, the silver waist chain still around her soft midriff, the anklet glinting on her left ankle. Her heavy breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Cum continued to seep from her red, swollen pussy lips and run down toward the drain.
 
She had almost no energy left, but she still reached for him.
 
Bhola stood in front of her under the falling water, his thick, dark cock still heavy and shiny, coated in their mixed fluids, a thick rope of cum still hanging from the tip. Simran leaned forward weakly, took the messy shaft in one hand to steady it, and began licking. Her tongue dragged slowly along the underside, collecting the thick white residue, cleaning him with long, exhausted, filthy strokes. She was too tired to sit up properly; her shoulders slumped, her eyes half-closed, but she kept licking, tasting the heavy mixture of his cum and her own juices while warm water cascaded over both of them.
 
Bhola looked down at her in silence, one hand resting lightly on her wet hair, watching the lady of the house sit on the bathroom floor and clean his cock with her tongue after he had filled her completely.
 
Bhola’s arms slid under Simran’s soft, exhausted body. He lifted her just enough to shift his own position, then lowered himself carefully onto the wet bathroom floor, sitting with his back against the tiled wall. Warm water from the shower continued to cascade over both of them. He guided her forward so she straddled his lap, facing him. Her thick thighs spread wide around his hips. His heavy, still-hard cock rested thick and hot between their bodies, trapped against her soft lower belly and the sticky mess of cum still leaking from her used pussy. The silver waist chain pressed between them. The anklet on her left ankle glinted under the bathroom light every time her foot shifted.
 
He looked at her tired face.
 
“Bhabhi… meri kandhe pe sar rakh ke aaram karna hai?”
“Bhabhi… do you want to rest your head on my shoulder?”
 
Simran didn’t answer with words. She simply leaned forward and rested her head on his broad shoulder. Her face turned into the side of his neck. A long, shaky breath left her body. Bhola’s arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her flush against him. Her gigantic, milk-heavy breasts flattened against his solid chest. The soft, warm flesh spilled outward under the pressure; her stiff nipples dragged slowly across his skin with every small breath she took. Residual milk smeared between them. His large hands began moving — one rubbing slow, firm circles over the wet curve of her back, the other sliding lower to cup and squeeze the full, soft globe of her ass. He kneaded the flesh gently but possessively, fingers sinking into the plush cheek, lifting it, releasing it, feeling its weight and heat.
 
His cock throbbed hard between their bodies, fully erect again, the thick shaft trapped against her soft, cum-smeared stomach. Every small shift of her hips made the veiny length slide against her skin. He could have lifted her and pushed back inside her with almost no effort. The entrance of her pussy was still open, still leaking his thick load in slow pulses. But he held himself back. She was drained. Her body was heavy and limp against him. Her pussy had been stretched and fucked for so long that it needed time. He wanted her to regain some strength before he took her again.
 
Minutes passed under the falling water.
 
He kept rubbing her — long strokes down her spine, slow squeezes of her heavy ass, occasional upward presses that made her breasts drag and smear more milk across his chest. Simran stayed quiet, breathing slowly against his neck, her body completely surrendered to the support of his arms. The only sounds were the water hitting the tiles and the soft, wet shift of their skin.
 
Eventually Bhola moved.
 
He tightened his hold under her ass and stood up in one powerful motion, still carrying her on his lap. Her legs hung loosely around him. His hard cock remained trapped between their stomachs, sliding slightly against her soft skin with the movement. He reached out with one hand and turned the shower off. Water stopped. For a moment they stayed there, dripping, breathing, her naked body completely supported by his.
 
He carefully set her on her feet.
 
Simran swayed. Her legs were unsteady. Bhola kept one strong arm around her waist to hold her upright while he reached for a large towel. He began drying her with slow, thorough attention.
 
First her hair — he gathered the wet, heavy strands and rubbed them gently, watching water run down her back and over the curve of her ass. Then her face, dabbing carefully around her eyes and swollen lips. His hands moved to her neck and shoulders, dragging the towel over the soft skin. When he reached her breasts he slowed even more. He lifted each heavy, milk-filled globe in turn, drying underneath where the skin was warm and damp, then across the soft upper curves, then carefully over the stiff, sensitive nipples. A little residual milk appeared as he dried her; he wiped it away without comment. The towel moved lower, over her soft stomach and the silver waist chain that still sat against her skin. He dried around it, then lower still.
 
When he reached her pussy he was deliberate. He pressed the towel gently between her thick thighs, absorbing the thick mixture of his cum and her juices that continued to seep from her red, swollen lips. He parted her slightly with two fingers so he could dry her more thoroughly, wiping along the puffy outer folds and the sensitive inner skin. The towel came away stained. He moved behind her and dried the full, heavy cheeks of her ass, lifting each one to reach the warm cleft, then down the backs of her thighs and over her calves. Finally he dried her feet and the anklet on her left ankle.
 
By the time he finished she was only damp, her skin warm and soft under his hands.
 
Bhola dropped the towel, slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and lifted her completely off the floor. He carried her out of the bathroom the way a groom carries his bride across a threshold — her naked body held high against his chest, her heavy breasts pressed to him, one arm dangling loosely, the waist chain and anklet the only things she wore. Her head rested against his shoulder again.
 
He walked through the quiet house and into the bedroom. The sheets were still messy from earlier. He laid her down carefully in the centre of the bed. Simran immediately turned onto her side, facing away from him, one arm curled under her head. Her thick thighs rested together. The full curve of her ass, still faintly marked from his hands, faced him. Her heavy breasts settled against the mattress. The silver waist chain followed the soft indentation of her waist. A thin, slow trickle of his cum still leaked from between her closed thighs onto the sheet.
 
Bhola stood there for a long moment, completely naked, his thick cock still hard and glistening, and simply looked at her.
 
His Bhabhi.
 
Sleeping naked on the bed he had just fucked her on for so long. Completely used. Completely open to him. The waist chain he had put on her still in place. The anklet still on her leg. Her body marked by his mouth, his hands, and the thick load he had left deep inside her.
 
He watched her breathing even out as sleep took her completely.
 
Only then did he turn and go downstairs, leaving her there — naked, marked, and full of him.
 
Bhola came down the stairs completely naked.
 
His thick cock was still hard, heavy and dark, swaying with every step. The skin was still slightly shiny from the shower and from Simran’s earlier attention. He could feel the cool air of the living room against it. The house was quiet. Upstairs, his Bhabhi was sleeping on her side, naked except for the waist chain and anklet he had put on her, her body still marked and full of him.
 
He needed the erection to go down.
 
Bhola moved to the open space near the dining table and began doing slow squats and push-ups, trying to force the blood to redistribute. Twenty minutes passed. Sweat beaded on his chest and shoulders. His breathing grew heavier. Yet every time he thought of the way Simran’s pussy had stretched around him, or the way her heavy breasts had leaked milk into his mouth, his cock twitched and stayed stubbornly hard. The thick shaft refused to soften completely.
 
His phone rang.