[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Simran’s throat worked as she swallowed again and again, drinking the thick load while her hands remained trapped above her head and her body stayed pinned beneath him. Milk and cum mixed on her chest. Her pussy continued to leak onto the sheets. Bhola stayed over her, cock still twitching on her tongue, until the last heavy pulse had emptied into her mouth and she had swallowed everything he gave her.
 
Simran’s mouth was still full.
 
Bhola’s thick, dark cock stayed lodged between her lips, the fat head resting heavily on her tongue even after the last powerful spurts had already flooded her. Fresh, dense cum continued to leak from the slit in slow, heavy pulses. She tried to speak, tried to form words, but every attempt came out as wet, choked, filthy sounds around the massive shaft.
 
“Mmmphh… mmm… aaahhmmph… Bho… laa… mmmphh… bahut… mmm… ho gaya… aaahhmm…”
 
Her throat worked as she was forced to swallow again and again. Thick ropes of cum slid down in heavy gulps. Some of it escaped the corners of her stretched lips and ran in white streaks down her cheeks, pooling in the hollow of her neck and dripping onto the upper slopes of her milk-heavy breasts. Bhola kept her wrists pinned above her head with one hand and used the other to hold her jaw open, rocking his hips in small, shallow thrusts so the swollen head kept sliding back and forth over her tongue. He was not finished using her mouth. Even after emptying so much into her, the thick cock remained rigid, shiny with saliva and cum, refusing to soften.
 
Simran’s eyes watered. Her muffled protests grew wetter and more desperate as he continued to feed her the heavy shaft.
 
“Mmmphh… nikaal… aaahhmm… abhi… mmm… aur nahi… mmmphh…”
 
Bhola only shifted.
 
Without pulling out of her mouth he turned his body around on the bed, swinging one strong leg over her so that he ended up above her in a full sixty-nine. His heavy balls settled against her chin. The thick, cum-smeared cock stayed buried between her lips while his face dropped between her open thighs. The scent of her used, overflowing pussy hit him immediately — the mix of his earlier loads, her fresh juices, and the lingering heat of how hard he had fucked her. He spread her swollen lips with his thumbs and dragged his tongue slowly through the messy folds, collecting everything that was leaking out of her.
 
Simran’s muffled cry vibrated around his cock.
 
“Mmmphh—! Abhi… aur… nahi… mmm… tera lund… monster hai… shant… nahi hota… mmmphh… meri choot… chhod… aaahhmm…”
 
Bhola ignored the words. He found the swollen pearl of her clit and began licking it with focused, deliberate strokes — flat tongue, then the tip circling, then soft suction. Simran’s hips jerked. A louder, broken moan escaped around the thick cock still stretching her mouth. Her thighs trembled on either side of his head. Fresh juice leaked out of her and onto his tongue as he kept eating her while she was forced to keep his still-hard cock in her mouth.
 
The clock on the side table ticked closer to eleven.
 
Simran finally gathered enough strength. She turned her head sharply, forcing the thick, glistening shaft to slide free of her lips with a wet, filthy *pop*. A long string of cum and saliva connected the dark head to her lower lip for a second before breaking and falling onto her breast. She shoved at his hips and shoulders with both hands, pushing him off her body.
 
“Bas… ruk ja…!” Her voice was hoarse, thick with the cum she had just swallowed.
 
“Itna mat chod… main paagal ho jaungi… kal main theek se chal bhi nahi paungi… ab jaake so… please…”
“Don’t fuck so much… I’ll go crazy… tomorrow I won’t even be able to walk properly… now go and sleep… please…”
 
Bhola hovered over her for a moment, his thick cock still rigid and swinging heavily between his thighs, shiny with her saliva and the last of his load. He looked down at the mess he had made of her — swollen lips, cum streaked across her cheeks and chin, milk still beading on her nipples, her open pussy leaking the thick mixture of everything he had pumped into her earlier.
 
Then he nodded once.
 
“Theek hai, Bhabhi.”
 
He climbed off the bed. His heavy, still-erect cock swayed with every step as he walked naked toward the door — the dark shaft glistening, the fat head still slightly wet, the thick vein along the underside pulsing. He did not look back as he left the bedroom and went downstairs, the soft sound of his bare feet fading on the stairs.
 
Simran collapsed back against the pillows.
 
Her chest rose and fell hard. She lifted one shaky hand and wiped the thick white streaks of his cum from the corners of her mouth and the side of her face. The taste of him still coated her tongue. Between her legs she could feel everything he had left inside her continuing to leak out onto the sheets. The silver waist chain sat against her soft stomach. The anklet rested on her ankle. Her body felt thoroughly used — mouth, breasts, pussy — and still sensitive.
 
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, breathing heavily, the filthy evidence of what her servant had just done to her cooling on her skin.
 
Simran lay on her back in the middle of the big bed, completely naked except for the silver waist chain around her soft midriff and the thin anklet on her left ankle. Her heavy breasts rose and fell with her still-uneven breathing. Between her thighs she could feel the thick, slow leak of everything Bhola had pumped into her earlier — his heavy cum mixed with her own juices continuing to seep out of her swollen, well-fucked pussy and soak into the sheets. The taste of his last load still coated her tongue. She stared at the ceiling and thought, with a mixture of exhaustion and dark heat, how much this man fucked her. Morning, afternoon, night — it never seemed to stop. That thick, dark, veiny monster of a cock that stretched her open until she could barely walk, that filled her until she leaked for hours, that made her moan like a whore even when she tried to resist. It was too big. Too hard. Too relentless.
 
The doorbell rang.
 
The sharp sound cut through the quiet house like a blade.
 
Simran’s eyes widened. She was still completely naked, thighs sticky, breasts bare, the evidence of everything Bhola had done to her written across her body. Downstairs, Bhola was equally naked in his own room, his heavy cock still semi-hard and swinging between his legs when the bell sounded. He moved fast. He grabbed a pair of loose cotton pants and forced his thick, still-swollen shaft down into the fabric, the outline of it still blatantly visible against the front. He pulled a T-shirt over his head and went to the door.
 
Simran had not yet realised who it was. She sat up, heart beginning to race, and swung her legs off the bed. Her bare feet touched the floor. Her heavy breasts swayed. She was about to go downstairs naked to see who had come at this hour when she heard voices in the living room.
 
Ravi’s voice.
 
“Bhola, gaadi se samaan nikaal lena. Main abhi aata hoon.”
“Bhola, take the luggage out of the car. I’ll come right now.”
 
Simran’s blood turned to ice.
 
She had already taken three steps toward the staircase, completely naked, when she saw Ravi’s back as he turned toward Bhola. Her husband was home. Early. Unexpected. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she felt dizzy. She spun around and ran.
 
Her heavy, milk-filled breasts bounced hard with every step, the soft globes smacking together, nipples still stiff and shiny from Bhola’s mouth. Her thick ass jiggled and shook with each hurried movement up the stairs, the deep cleft flexing, the silver waist chain glinting against her soft stomach. Residual cum continued to leak from her freshly fucked pussy and run down the inner side of her right thigh in a thick, shiny trail as she fled. She took the stairs two at a time, bare feet silent but her whole naked body in vulgar, panicked motion — breasts leaping, ass rippling, the anklet flashing on her ankle.
 
She reached the bedroom, snatched the first thing she saw — a very short, thin nightie that barely reached the tops of her thighs — and pulled it over her head in one frantic motion. The soft fabric clung to her still-damp skin, outlining the heavy shape of her breasts and the dark points of her nipples. The hem sat so high that the lower curves of her ass were still almost visible. She did not bother with panties. There was no time. She rushed into the attached bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the basin tap full force so the sound of running water would give her an excuse.