[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Theek hai, bhai. Main jaata hoon. Soch lena. Jaldi. Komal… aur Nimrat… dono ka dimag us haramzade ke lund se azaad hona chahiye. Aur sirf tera cum who kaam kar sakta hai.”
“Okay, brother. I’m going. Think about it. Quickly. Komal… and Nimrat… both their minds need to be free from that bastard’s cock. And only your cum can do that work.”
 
He turned and walked away into the dark lane without looking back. His footsteps faded. Bhola remained sitting on the low wall under the yellow light, the cold tea forgotten beside him, his mind full of the thick, forbidden images of the two women he was now expected to take — and the naked, freshly fucked body of Simran still sleeping upstairs in the flat, full of the very cum that was being called a cure.
 
Bhola closed the main door quietly behind him. The house was still. The conversation with Jai still sat heavy in his mind — Komal, Nimrat, the cursed cum of their father, the five-minute window, the demand that he fuck both women and fill them with his own load. But the moment he stepped inside, those thoughts began to blur under something stronger.
 
He thought of Simran.
 
She had not eaten since evening. She must be hungry. He moved upstairs on silent feet and pushed the bedroom door open.
 
The sight stopped him cold.
 
Simran was still exactly where he had left her — lying on her side, turned away from the door, completely stark naked. The silver waist chain he had fastened around her soft midriff earlier gleamed dully in the low light. The thin anklet rested against her left ankle. Her body was a landscape of pure, filthy invitation.
 
From behind she looked obscenely beautiful. The full, heavy globes of her ass were pushed slightly upward by the way one knee was bent. The deep cleft between them was dark and soft. Lower, the puffy, swollen lips of her pussy were visible between her thick thighs — still slightly open, still glistening with the thick mixture of his earlier cum and her own juices. A slow, creamy trail had dried in a shiny path down her inner thigh. Her skin looked silky, warm, marked in places by his fingers and mouth. The soft undersides of her breasts were just visible where they spilled against the mattress. She was the picture of a thoroughly used married woman — fucked open, filled, cleaned, and left sleeping in the exact state her servant had put her in.
 
Bhola’s cock, which had only half-softened during the talk with Jai, began to thicken again inside his pants.
 
He moved to the bed and dropped to his knees behind her. The scent hit him first — warm skin, faint milk, the lingering musk of sex, and the clean smell of the shower they had taken together. He leaned in and pressed his face against the soft, silky curve of her ass. He breathed her in deeply, nose buried in the warm cleft, inhaling the intimate scent of her body. It was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. He thought, with raw honesty, how lucky he was. This perfect, heavy, married pussy belonged to him in ways her husband would never know. He got to stretch it, fill it, drink from its owner’s breasts, and leave it leaking his cum.
 
He tilted his head lower and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss directly onto the puffy pink lips of her pussy. His tongue dragged once between the swollen folds, tasting the faint salt of dried cum and her own residual wetness. Simran made a small sound in her sleep and shifted her hips slightly, pushing her ass back toward his face for a second before settling again.
 
Bhola rose and walked around to the other side of the bed.
 
From this angle the view was even filthier. Simran’s heavy breasts were pressed together by the mattress and her own arm. The soft, milk-filled flesh spilled forward, the deep cleavage tight and warm. Both nipples were still slightly stiff. A thin, white bead of milk had formed at the tip of the right nipple and was slowly growing heavier, ready to drip. Another faint trail of dried milk ran down the underside of the left breast. Her face was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted, the marks of earlier biting still faintly visible on her lower lip.
 
He stripped quickly. Pants, underwear, T-shirt — all discarded on the floor. His thick cock sprang free, already heavy and rising, the dark head still sensitive from the long session hours earlier. He climbed onto the bed carefully and slid in behind her, then adjusted her upper body. He gently lifted her top arm and moved it upward so that both heavy breasts were fully exposed and free. The soft globes settled naturally, nipples pointing slightly toward him.
 
Bhola lowered his head and took her right breast into his mouth.
 
He latched on slowly, deliberately, the way he had earlier — wide mouth covering as much of the soft areola as possible, tongue pressing against the thick nipple. He sucked with long, deep, rhythmic pulls, drawing the warm milk out of her. The first stream filled his mouth, sweet and rich. He swallowed and sucked again, harder, feeling the soft flesh pull outward toward his lips before springing back. His left hand came up and closed around the other breast, squeezing the heavy globe from below, thumb brushing across the stiff nipple, forcing a fresh bead of milk to appear. He pressed and released, pressed and released, milking her with his hand while his mouth worked the right side.
 
His cock hardened fully against the soft skin of her thigh. The thick shaft throbbed, the head already leaking a clear drop of precum. He kept sucking — slow, greedy, thorough — switching the pressure, swirling his tongue, biting down gently on the nipple before sucking hard again. Milk leaked from the corner of his mouth and ran down the curve of her breast. The left breast grew wet under his squeezing fingers as more milk was forced out.
 
After several long minutes he reached down, lifted her left leg, and dbangd it carefully over his waist. The movement opened her thighs. Her soft, used pussy was now only inches from the thick, dark cock that stood rigid between them. In her sleep Simran made a small, unconscious sound and shifted closer to the warmth of his body. The movement brought the swollen, cum-smeared lips of her pussy directly against the hot shaft of his cock. The fat head nestled naturally against her entrance, kissing the soft, wet folds without yet pushing inside.
 
Bhola stayed exactly like that — mouth locked on her right breast, hand still squeezing and milking the left, her leg over his waist, his thick cock resting heavily against the open, freshly fucked pussy he had already claimed once that night — and continued to suck the warm milk from his sleeping Bhabhi’s body.
 
Bhola stayed completely still for several long seconds, the thick, dark head of his cock resting lightly against the soft, swollen entrance of Simran’s pussy. He could feel the residual heat and wetness from earlier — the mixture of his own cum and her juices still coating her folds. Very slowly, almost carefully, he began to move his hips. The fat, flared head dragged up and down through her puffy lips, parting them gently, smearing the sticky wetness along the underside of his shaft. He rubbed her like that for a long time — slow, deliberate, filthy strokes that made the soft folds cling to the ridge of his cock head every time he pulled back.
 
Simran’s breathing changed.
 
Her body tensed almost imperceptibly. A small, sleepy sound left her throat. She was beginning to wake. The moment Bhola felt her stir, he leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep, open smooch, sealing her lips with his before she could speak. At the same time he gave a short, strong push of his hips.
 
The thick head forced its way inside.
 
Simran’s eyes flew open. A loud, shocked moan exploded from her throat — “Mmmmmphhh—!” — but the sound was completely muffled by Bhola’s mouth. Her tongue tried to push against his; her hands came up weakly against his chest. He held her tighter, one arm locked around her upper body, keeping her pressed against him while the fat, dark crown of his cock sat stretched inside her entrance, throbbing.
 
She tried to twist away, to close her thighs, to say something. Bhola only deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past her lips, and held her firmly in place. Then he withdrew — slow, deliberate — until just the very tip remained kissing her open pussy. He paused for half a second.