[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.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

And then he gave one long, powerful, continuous stroke.
 
The entire thick length sank into her.
 
Centimetre by centimetre the heavy, veiny shaft disappeared inside her used, still-sensitive cunt. Her walls were forced wide open around the massive girth. The fat head dragged deep until it pressed firmly against her cervix. Simran’s muffled scream vibrated against his mouth — extremely loud, raw, and broken — but not a single clear word escaped. Her body arched hard against him. Her heavy breasts smashed against his chest. Milk smeared between them.
 
Bhola’s left hand slid under her body, palm rough and large, and locked onto the full, soft globe of her ass. He squeezed hard, fingers sinking into the plush flesh, using the grip to keep her hips exactly where he wanted them. Then he began to fuck her.
 
Slow.
 
Long.
 
Deep.
 
He pulled back until only the thick ridge of the head stretched her entrance, the shaft glistening with their mixed fluids, then pushed forward again in one continuous, powerful stroke that buried every inch inside her. The wet, filthy sound of her pussy taking him filled the quiet bedroom — a thick, slow *schlick* each time he bottomed out. Her swollen lips clung to him on every withdrawal, reluctant to let the heavy cock leave.
 
Simran’s moans stayed loud and pained at first, each one swallowed by his relentless kiss. Her tongue tried to push his away; her body trembled with the overwhelming stretch. But Bhola kept the same merciless rhythm — long, deliberate strokes that dragged the fat head all the way from her entrance to the deepest point inside her and back again. Every thrust made her heavy breasts shift and leak against his chest. The silver waist chain pressed into both of their stomachs. Her leg stayed dbangd over his waist, keeping her open.
 
Gradually the quality of her sounds changed.
 
The sharp edge of pain began to blur. Her muffled cries grew wetter, deeper, more broken. Her tongue stopped fighting his and started moving with it — slow, slurping strokes, tasting him, answering the kiss. She began to suck on his tongue the same way he had sucked milk from her breasts earlier. Her hips gave the smallest, unconscious push back to meet his next long thrust. Her pussy, still raw and oversensitive from the earlier fucking, fluttered and clenched around the thick shaft as it forced her open again and again.
 
Bhola kept kissing her through every stroke, kept his hand locked on her ass, kept feeding her the full length of his cock in those slow, deep, filthy thrusts. The wet sounds grew louder. Milk continued to leak between their chests. Her body, which had tried to resist only minutes earlier, now clung to him, taking every long stroke while her tongue played greedily inside his mouth.
 
He was fucking his sleeping Bhabhi awake — slowly, thoroughly, and without giving her a single clear chance to protest.
 
Bhola kept the same slow, deep rhythm for several more minutes. Long, deliberate strokes that dragged the thick, veiny shaft almost all the way out before pushing every heavy inch back inside her. Simran’s pussy made wet, filthy sounds around him — a continuous soft *schlick… schlick…* as her swollen lips clung to the dark cock on every withdrawal. Her muffled moans had lost the sharp edge of pain. They were lower now, wetter, broken with growing pleasure. Her tongue had stopped fighting and was moving lazily against his.
 
Only then did Bhola break the kiss.
 
He pulled his mouth away from hers with a wet sound and immediately dropped his head to her chest. He latched onto her left breast, taking as much of the soft, heavy flesh as he could into his mouth, and began sucking hard. Milk flooded his tongue at once. He drank in long, greedy pulls while his hips continued their slow, deep thrusts.
 
Simran’s voice came out shaky and breathless against the top of his head.
 
“Bhola… tu… aaahhh… mujhe rest bhi nahi lene deta… hamesha… aaahhh… hamesha chodta rehta hai… main teri biwi nahi hoon… aaahhh… itna… itna mat kar…”
“Bhola… you… aaahhh… you don’t even let me rest… always… aaahhh… you keep fucking me… I’m not your wife… aaahhh… don’t… don’t do so much…”
 
Bhola didn’t release her nipple. He spoke around the soft flesh filling his mouth, the words muffled and thick with milk.
 
“Main apni Bhabhi ko chodna bahut pasand karta hoon… aap itni sexy ho… itni garam… main sirf aapke doodh ke liye aaya tha… aapko light feel karane… lekin aapki body dekh ke… aapki choot dekh ke… mera lund khada ho gaya… control nahi hua…”
“I love fucking my Bhabhi… you are so sexy… so hot… I had only come for your milk… to make you feel light… but seeing your body… seeing your pussy… my cock got hard… I couldn’t control…”
 
He switched to the right breast and sucked even harder, drawing thick streams of warm milk while his cock kept sinking into her in those long, steady strokes. His left hand remained locked on her ass, squeezing the soft globe, holding her open for every thrust.
 
Simran’s hips began to move with him despite her words. Her voice cracked.
 
“Tu… aaahhh… itna cum meri choot mein nahi daal sakta… har baar… itna… aaahhh… mat daal wahan… muh mein daal… main bhooki hoon… muh mein jhad… please…”
“You… aaahhh… you can’t put so much cum in my pussy… every time… so much… aaahhh… don’t put it there… put it in my mouth… I’m hungry… cum in my mouth… please…”
 
Bhola lifted his mouth from her breast just long enough to answer, a thin string of milk connecting his lower lip to her shiny nipple.
 
“Haan, Bhabhi… theek hai. Muh mein hi jhadunga. Lekin pehle aapka doodh peene do.”
“Yes, Bhabhi… okay. I’ll cum in your mouth only. But first let me drink your milk.”
 
The moment the words left him he changed pace.
 
His hips began to move faster, harder, more vigorously. The long strokes became stronger, deeper, the wet sounds louder and filthier as his thick cock pistoned in and out of her flooded pussy. At the same time he attacked her breasts with renewed hunger — sucking one nipple with deep, rhythmic pulls while his hand squeezed and milked the other, forcing more white streams to leak across her chest and onto the sheets. Milk ran down the side of her breast and onto his chin. He swallowed again and again, never fully releasing her.
 
Simran’s moans rose sharply.
 
“Aaaahhh… Bhola… aaahhh… zor se… aaahhh… meri choot… aaahhh… itna gehra… aaahhh… doodh… aaahhh… main… aaahhh… aa rahi hoon…!”
 
Her orgasm hit hard. Her pussy clamped down around his thrusting cock in strong, rhythmic pulses, flooding him with fresh, clear juice that mixed with the earlier cum still inside her. Her back arched. Her heavy breasts pushed deeper into his sucking mouth. Loud, broken, filthy sounds spilled from her lips.
 
“Haan… aaahhh… chod… apni Bhabhi ki choot… aaahhh… doodh pi… aaahhh… lund… itna mota… aaahhh… andar…!”
 
Bhola fucked her through the entire orgasm without slowing, hips slamming harder now, the thick shaft making wet, slapping sounds against her. He kept sucking, switching breasts whenever one began to slow, determined to empty as much milk as possible while her cunt spasmed around him.
 
When her climax finally began to ebb he pulled out of her with a wet, filthy sound. A thick mixture of his earlier cum and her fresh juices poured out of her open pussy and ran down her thighs. Before she could even catch her breath he moved up her body, straddled her chest, and pushed the glistening, dark cock toward her mouth.
 
Simran’s hands came up instinctively.
 
Bhola caught both wrists in one large hand and pinned them firmly above her head against the mattress. His other hand gripped her jaw, holding her mouth open. He pushed the thick, cum-smeared head past her lips and into her mouth.
 
“Pi lo, Bhabhi. Sab.”
“Drink it, Bhabhi. All of it.”
 
He began to thrust shallowly between her lips, the fat head rubbing over her tongue. Within seconds his cock swelled and pulsed. Thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted straight into her mouth. He kept her head still, wrists pinned, forcing her to take every spurt. Wave after wave of hot, dense cum flooded her tongue and throat. Some spilled from the corners of her mouth and ran down her cheeks onto her breasts, but he did not pull back. He kept the cock head inside, rocking gently, making sure she swallowed.
 
“Niglo… poora… ek boond mat giraana…”
“Swallow… all of it… don’t spill a single drop…”

[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.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Seconds later she heard footsteps in the bedroom.
 
Ravi’s voice came through the bathroom door, urgent and strained.
 
“Simran? Bathroom khol. Jaldi. Meri tabiyat kharab hai… pet kharab ho gaya hai… abhi use karna hai.”
“Simran? Open the bathroom. Quickly. I’m not well… my stomach is upset… I need to use it right now.”
 
Simran’s hands were shaking. She looked at herself in the mirror for one split second — flushed face, swollen lips, the faint sheen of dried cum still at the corner of her mouth, the short nightie doing almost nothing to hide the body her servant had just spent hours using. She wiped her mouth roughly with the back of her hand, took a breath, and opened the door.
 
Ravi stood there looking pale and uncomfortable, one hand pressed to his stomach.
 
“Pet bilkul kharab ho gaya,” he said quickly, already moving past her toward the toilet. “Flight mein kuch kha liya tha… ab control nahi ho raha.”
“Stomach is completely upset,” he said quickly, already moving past her toward the toilet. “I ate something on the flight… I can’t control it now.”
 
Simran stepped out of the bathroom in the tiny nightie, heart still hammering, thighs pressed together to hide the wetness that continued to leak out of her, and watched her husband rush past her while the taste of Bhola’s cum was still in her mouth and the print of his thick cock was still stretched inside her pussy.
 
Ravi came out of the bathroom looking pale and drained. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, one hand still pressed to his stomach.
 
“Flight mein bahut khatarnak scene ho gaya,” he said, voice tired. “Ek passenger… lagbhag mar hi gaya tha. First class ka khana kharab nikla. Food poisoning. Teen log serious ho gaye. Pilot ko plane wapas turn karna pada. Landing ke baad sabko injection diye. Main bhi down hoon. Doctor ne kaha agar asar hua toh ek-do din lagenge theek hone mein. Main thak gaya hoon, soona hai. Bhola se Electral ka paani mangwa dena.”
“A very dangerous scene happened on the flight,” he said, voice tired. “One passenger… almost died. The first-class food turned out bad. Food poisoning. Three people became serious. The pilot had to turn the plane back. After landing everyone was given injections. I’m down too. The doctor said if it has an effect it will take one or two days to get better. I’m tired, I need to sleep. Ask Bhola for Electral water.”
 
Simran stood there in the tiny nightie, still feeling the thick, slow leak of Bhola’s cum between her thighs, and could barely process the words. Her husband was home early, sick, and asking for electrolyte water while her pussy was still stretched and sticky from the servant’s cock. She forced her voice to stay normal.
 
“Haan… main bana deti hoon.”
“Yes… I’ll make it.”
 
She went downstairs. Bhola was already in the kitchen area, the front of his pants still visibly tented by the thick cock he had only just tucked away.
 
“Electral ka paani chahiye Ravi ko,” she said quietly. “Pet kharab hai.”
“Ravi needs Electral water,” she said quietly. “His stomach is upset.”
 
“Ji Bhabhi. Main bana deta hoon.”
“Yes Bhabhi. I’ll make it.”
 
“Main banaati hoon. Tu ready rakh.”
“I’ll make it. You keep it ready.”
 
Simran opened the cabinet and took out the Electral packet. The sugar container on the counter was empty. She remembered the new sealed packet was kept on the bottom shelf under the kitchen slab. She bent forward at the waist to reach it.
 
The extremely short nightie rode up immediately.
 
The soft fabric slid over the full curves of her ass and kept going until it bunched at her waist. Her bare, freshly fucked pussy was completely exposed from behind — the puffy, swollen lips still slightly open, shiny with the thick mixture of Bhola’s cum and her own juices that continued to leak out of her in a slow, creamy trail. The silver waist chain glinted against her soft midriff. The lower curves of her heavy breasts hung downward with the bend, nipples stiff against the thin cloth.
 
Bhola moved without a word.
 
He dropped to a crouch behind her, leaned in, and planted a slow, open-mouthed kiss directly on her exposed pussy. His lips pressed against the wet, swollen folds; his tongue dragged once through the messy slit, tasting the heavy load he had left inside her only a short while ago.
 
Simran jerked upright with a sharp gasp, the sugar packet still in her hand.
 
“Bhola—! Kya kar raha hai?! Ravi upar hai… tu paagal hai kya?!”
“Bhola—! What are you doing?! Ravi is upstairs… are you mad?!”
 
She spun around, face flushed, trying to yank the tiny nightie back down over her sticky thighs. Bhola stayed crouched for a second longer, then stood, the thick outline of his cock blatant against his pants.
 
“Sorry, Bhabhi,” he said, voice low. But his eyes were still fixed on the place between her legs where the nightie had just been.
 
Simran turned back to the counter, heart hammering, and tried to open the sugar packet with shaking fingers. The plastic was stubborn. She had to bend again, lower this time, to get better leverage on the shelf.
 
The nightie rode up once more.
 
The moment her bare ass and dripping pussy were presented again, Bhola moved. He freed his heavy cock from his pants in one motion — the dark, thick shaft already rigid, the fat head still slightly shiny from earlier. He stepped in behind her, lined the swollen crown up against her open, cum-slick entrance, and shoved.
 
Just the head.
 
It forced her puffy lips apart and sank inside in one short, strong push.
 
Simran made a high, shocked, squeaky sound — half gasp, half stifled cry — and her hands slammed onto the counter for support.
 
“Kya… kya bakwas kar raha hai tu?! Bahar nikaal… abhi…!”
“What… what nonsense are you talking?! Take it out… right now…!”
 
Bhola kept the fat head buried inside her, one hand on her hip, the other still holding his thick shaft. His voice was quiet but firm.
 
“Bhabhi… promise karo. Yeh nightie kal poora din pehenni hai. Change nahi karogi. Warna main nahi nikaalunga.”
“Bhabhi… promise. You will wear this nightie the whole day tomorrow. You won’t change it. Otherwise I won’t take it out.”
 
Simran’s face burned with anger and the sudden stretch.
 
“Nahi! Main abhi change karungi—!”
“No! I’ll change right now—!”
 
The moment the refusal left her mouth, Bhola gave another short, strong shove. Another thick inch of the dark cock sank into her. The stretch made her toes curl against the kitchen floor.
 
“Bhabhi. Promise karo.”
 
Her breath was coming fast. She could feel every ridge of the head inside her, could feel how easily her still-loose, cum-filled pussy had accepted him again. Upstairs her husband was waiting for electrolyte water with an upset stomach. Down here her servant’s cock was halfway inside her.
 
“Theek hai… theek hai… nikaal… main nahi change karungi… abhi nikaal…!”
“Okay… okay… take it out… I won’t change… take it out right now…!”
 
Bhola did not pull out yet.
 
“Panty aur bra bhi nahi. Kal poora din. Sirf yeh nightie.”
“No panty and bra either. The whole day tomorrow. Only this nightie.”
 
Simran’s voice rose in a desperate whisper.
 
“Bhola… isme toh meri… sab kuch dikh raha hai…  sab…”
“Bhola… in this my… everything is visible… … everything…”
 
He answered by pushing another fraction deeper. The thick head rubbed against her sensitive front wall. A fresh trickle of their mixed fluids ran down her inner thigh.
 
“Promise, Bhabhi.”
 
She closed her eyes, forehead almost touching the upper cabinet.
 
“Theek hai… theek hai… promise… ab nikaal… please…”
 
Only then did Bhola pull out.
 
The fat head left her with a wet, filthy sound. A thick string of cum and her juices connected the tip of his cock to her open pussy for a second before breaking. Simran stayed bent over the counter for one more shaky breath, then straightened on unsteady legs. She turned around, dropped to a crouch in front of him, and took the glistening, dark cock head between her lips. She gave it one slow, deliberate kiss, tasting herself and him mixed together, then carefully tucked the heavy shaft back into his pants and pulled the fabric up over it.
 
She looked up at him, face still flushed, voice low and warning.
 
“Itna naughty mat ban. Ab yeh paani le ja upar. Ravi intezaar kar raha hai.”
“Don’t become so naughty. Now take this water upstairs. Ravi is waiting.”
 
Bhola nodded, the thick outline of his cock still obvious against the front of his pants, and took the glass of electrolyte water she had finally finished preparing. Simran stayed in the kitchen for a moment longer, the tiny nightie barely covering her, her pussy still twitching and leaking from the sudden intrusion, before she followed him upstairs with her heart still racing.
 
Bhola forced his thick, still-rigid cock back inside his pants, the heavy shaft straining against the fabric as he adjusted himself. The front of his trousers remained blatantly tented. He placed the glass of Electral water on a small tray and carried it upstairs with steady steps. The house was quiet except for the soft sound of his bare feet on the stairs.
 
Ravi was already lying on the bed, one arm over his eyes, looking pale and exhausted. The short nightie Simran had been wearing earlier was nowhere in sight; she had not yet come back up. Bhola set the tray on the side table.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

“Sahib, paani rakh diya. Aap so jaaiye. Light band kar doon?”
“Sahib, I’ve kept the water. You sleep. Should I turn off the light?”
 
Ravi gave a tired nod without removing his arm from his face.
 
“Haan… band kar de.”
“Yes… turn it off.”
 
Bhola switched off the main light, leaving only the dim glow of the bathroom light spilling under the door. He turned to leave.
 
Halfway down the staircase he met Simran coming up.
 
She was still in the same ridiculously short nightie. The thin fabric barely reached the tops of her thighs. Every step made her heavy, braless breasts sway and bounce under the soft cloth, the dark nipples clearly outlined. The silver waist chain he had put on her the night before still sat against her soft midriff. She was not wearing panties; the lower curves of her full ass were visible with each upward step, and between her thighs the faint, shiny evidence of everything he had left inside her earlier still clung to her skin.
 
As they passed on the narrow stairs, Bhola did not step aside cleanly.
 
His shoulder brushed deliberately across the soft, heavy mounds of her breasts. The contact made the thin nightie drag over her stiff nipples. At the same time his hand slid under the short hem from behind. His palm cupped one full, lower globe of her ass, gave it a firm, possessive pat, then pinched the soft flesh hard enough to leave a mark. His fingers sank into the warm, plush cheek, lifting it slightly before releasing.
 
Simran’s breath hitched. She twisted, face flushing, and slapped at his wrist with the back of her hand — not hard enough to really hurt, but sharp enough to warn.
 
“Hath hata…!” she whispered fiercely, eyes darting toward the darkened bedroom door above. She jerked her body forward, almost jumping up the remaining stairs to get past him. The sudden movement made her heavy breasts leap under the nightie and her bare ass jiggle as the short fabric rode up even higher for a second. A fresh trickle of the thick mixture still inside her ran down the inner side of her thigh as she fled upward.
 
Bhola watched her go, the thick outline of his cock still obvious against his pants, then continued down to his own room.
 
Sunlight was already filtering through the curtains when Simran came downstairs.
 
She was still wearing the same tiny nightie from the night before — exactly as she had been forced to promise. The soft fabric clung to her body, outlining the full, heavy shape of her breasts and the dark points of her nipples. The hem sat high on her thighs. She had not put on a bra or panties. The silver waist chain remained around her soft waist. Between her legs she could still feel the faint tenderness and the sticky reminder of how thoroughly Bhola had used her the previous night and again in the kitchen.
 
The kitchen was empty.
 
No sound of utensils. No smell of tea being prepared. Bhola was not there.
 
She stood in the doorway for a moment, the short nightie shifting against her bare skin, and realised he must have already left for the market to buy whatever was needed for the day. The house was quiet except for the distant sound of Ravi still sleeping upstairs.
 
Simran walked further into the kitchen, the cool air touching the bare lower curves of her ass and the still-sensitive lips of her pussy under the tiny nightie, and waited.
 
Simran sat on the cane chair on the small first-floor balcony, one leg folded under her. The very short nightie she had been forced to keep wearing barely reached the tops of her thighs. Underneath she had finally pulled on a thin thong panty — a last, desperate attempt at some cover — because the nightie was so tiny that any bend would completely expose her bare, still-tender pussy. The silver waist chain still sat against her soft midriff. The anklet rested on her left ankle. Her heavy breasts felt full and tight; the thin fabric of the nightie was already damp in two dark circles where milk had begun to leak overnight.
 
She saw Bhola returning from the market, climbing the lane with a cloth bag in one hand. From the balcony she watched the way his shoulders moved, the easy strength in his walk. Ravi was still deeply asleep in the bedroom behind her, his breathing slow and heavy after the stomach trouble of the previous night.
 
The thought of milk made heat rise in her face.
 
Every day she fed this man. Not from a glass. From her own heavy, swollen breasts. He latched onto her like a calf, sucked until the thick white streams filled his mouth, swallowed, and then switched sides. The memory of his lips sealed around her nipple, the wet pulling sounds, the way her milk ran down his chin while his thick cock stayed hard against her, made her shift in the chair. A faint, familiar throb started between her legs.
 
She picked up her phone and called Preeti.
 
“Ravi aa gaya hai,” she said quietly when Preeti answered. “Stomach was upset from the flight. Now it feels better, but he’s sleeping. He can’t come for the blood tests. And… it doesn’t even seem necessary now.”
 
There was a short pause on the other end. Preeti’s voice came lower, knowing.
 
“Meaning you two are already… doing it. That’s why you don’t feel the need for the test.”
 
Simran’s cheeks burned. She didn’t deny it.
 
Preeti continued, practical and firm.
 
“It matters to me, Simmu. I need both reports — yours and his. You both need to be clean. Bring Ravi too. I’ll make some plan. To keep him busy, so you get more time with Bhola. You just say yes.”
 
Simran stared out at the lane, confused by how easily Preeti was offering to arrange more private time with the servant who had spent the previous night stretching her open and filling her. After a long moment she exhaled.
 
“Theek hai… dekhte hain.”
“Okay… we’ll see.”
 
She ended the call, stood up, and went downstairs.
 
The short nightie shifted against her skin with every step. The thin thong did almost nothing; the narrow strip of fabric disappeared between the full cheeks of her ass and barely covered the puffy lips of her pussy. Her heavy breasts swayed freely under the thin cloth, nipples already stiff and damp.
 
Bhola was in the living room, setting the cloth bag on the floor. The moment he saw her coming down the stairs his eyes moved over her body — the tiny nightie, the clear outline of her braless breasts, the high hem, the silver chain at her waist. He stepped forward at once, cupped the back of her neck, and kissed her. It was not a polite greeting. His tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her, while one hand slid down and briefly squeezed the soft underside of her right breast through the nightie.
 
When he pulled back his voice was already thick.
 
“Bhabhi… doodh nikal du? Aapki chuchiyan bhari hui hongi. Raat bhar se bhari hui hain.”
“Bhabhi… should I take out the milk? Your boobs must be full. They’ve been full all night.”
 
Simran’s eyes flicked toward the staircase.
 
“Bhola… Ravi yahan hai. Upar so raha hai.”
“Bhola… Ravi is here. He’s sleeping upstairs.”
 
He didn’t argue. He simply took her wrist and pulled her into the kitchen, away from the open view of the stairs. Once they were behind the counter he turned her to face him, both hands locking on the soft curve of her waist. The short nightie rode up under his palms. With his right hand he reached up, hooked his fingers into the low neckline, and scooped her huge right breast completely out of the fabric in one smooth motion. The heavy, warm globe spilled free, the dark nipple already beading with milk.
 
Bhola bent his head and took it into his mouth at once.
 

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

He latched on hard — wide, hungry, the way he always did. His lips sealed around the soft areola, tongue pressing against the thick nipple, and he sucked with long, deep pulls. Warm milk flooded his mouth immediately. He swallowed audibly and sucked again, harder, drawing thick streams from her. His free hand stayed on her waist, holding her in place while he drank. The wet, rhythmic sounds of his mouth working her breast filled the quiet kitchen.
 
Simran’s hands came up instinctively to his shoulders. Her breath caught. Milk continued to flow under the strong suction; she could feel the pressure in her breast easing with every deep pull. The thin thong between her legs was already growing damp. Upstairs her husband slept, stomach still unsettled. Down here her servant had her right breast fully exposed and buried in his mouth, drinking the milk she produced, exactly as he had done every day since the first time she let him.
 
Bhola did not stop. He kept sucking, slow and thorough, one hand still locked on her waist, the heavy soft flesh of her breast filling his mouth while the rest of her body stayed pressed against the kitchen counter, the tiny nightie half-pulled aside, the silver waist chain cool against her skin.
 
Bhola kept his mouth sealed tightly around Simran’s left breast, sucking in long, deep, rhythmic pulls. Thick streams of warm milk flooded his tongue with every draw. He swallowed audibly and immediately sucked again, harder, cheeks hollowing, the soft heavy flesh of her tit stretching toward his lips before springing back. Wet, filthy sounds filled the quiet kitchen — the soft *gluck… gluck…* of milk being taken, the quiet wetness of his mouth working her nipple.
 
His hands did not stay still.
 
While he drank, both large palms slid down over the short nightie and locked onto the full, soft globes of her ass. He grabbed them roughly, fingers sinking deep into the plush flesh, squeezing and spreading the cheeks, lifting them, releasing them only to grab again harder. The thin fabric of the nightie was pushed up by his hands until most of her ass was bare under his palms. He kneaded the warm, heavy flesh like dough, pulling the cheeks apart so the narrow strip of her thong was fully exposed between them, then letting them fall back together with a soft jiggle.
 
Simran’s breathing had grown heavier. Soft, involuntary moans leaked from her throat each time he sucked especially hard or squeezed her ass with particular force. Her hands rested on his shoulders for balance, fingers flexing against the muscle there.
 
One of Bhola’s hands slid lower, between her thighs from behind. His fingers found the thin, damp crotch of the thong and pressed against it, feeling the heat and the slight puffiness of her pussy lips through the scrap of fabric. He rubbed slowly, then hooked two fingers under the narrow elastic and began to tug the thong downward.
 
Simran’s moan broke off abruptly.
 
She bent forward a little at the waist, trying to stop the downward pull while his mouth was still locked on her breast.
 
“Nahi… Bhola… ruk… yeh theek nahi… Ravi yahan hai… yeh nightie itni chhoti hai… agar who dekh liya toh… meri sabkuch dikh jaayegi…”
“No… Bhola… stop… this is not right… Ravi is here… this nightie is so short… if he sees… my everything will be visible…”
 
Bhola did not release her nipple. He kept sucking, milk still flowing into his mouth, and used both hands to yank the thong the rest of the way down with one strong motion. The thin fabric stretched, then slid over the full curves of her hips and down her thighs. Because his mouth never left her breast, the force of the pull made Simran bend further forward. Her naked ass jutted out sharply toward him. Her heavy breasts hung downward, the left one still buried in his mouth, the right one swinging free. Milk leaked from the exposed right nipple and dripped onto the kitchen floor in slow white drops. The silver waist chain shifted against her soft stomach. The thong settled around her ankles in a small, damp heap.
 
She was completely bare under the tiny nightie now — ass exposed, pussy uncovered, only the short hem of the nightie providing the thinnest possible coverage if she stood straight.
 
The sound of footsteps on the stairs reached them at the same moment.
 
Both of them froze.
 
Simran’s eyes went wide. She shoved hard against Bhola’s shoulders, breaking the seal of his mouth on her breast with a wet *pop*. A thin string of milk connected his lower lip to her shiny nipple for a second before breaking. She frantically stuffed the heavy, wet breast back inside the neckline of the nightie, the fabric immediately darkening with residual milk. The thong was still tangled around her ankles. She stepped out of it in one quick, clumsy motion, nearly losing her balance. Bhola’s hand shot out, snatched the small scrap of damp fabric from the floor, and shoved it deep into his pocket just as Ravi’s feet appeared on the lower stairs.
 
Ravi came into the living room rubbing his face, still looking tired but better than the night before. He glanced toward the kitchen where his wife and the servant stood a little too close together.
 
“Give me lemon tea,” he said, already moving toward the sofa. “Stomach still feels a little heavy.”
 
Simran’s voice came out higher than normal.
 
“Haan… abhi banati hoon.”
“Yes… I’m making it right now.”
 
Ravi dropped onto the sofa with his back mostly toward the kitchen, pulled out his phone, and began scrolling.
 
The moment his attention was elsewhere, Bhola moved.
 
He stepped in directly behind Simran, close enough that the hard ridge of his cock pressed against the soft curve of her ass through his pants. One large hand slid under the short hem of the nightie from behind. His middle finger found the bare, still-wet entrance of her pussy — no panty left to stop him — and pushed inside in one smooth, firm stroke.
 
Simran rose onto her toes with a sharp, choked gasp. Her hands flew to the edge of the counter. Her pussy clenched hard around the sudden thick finger. Fresh wetness coated Bhola’s knuckle as he slowly curled the finger inside her, rubbing the sensitive front wall while his other hand stayed on her hip, holding her in place.
 
He leaned in until his mouth was against her ear, voice barely a breath.
 
He was enjoying his Bhabhi to the fullest — her breast still wet with his saliva and her milk, her thong hidden in his pocket, her bare pussy gripping his finger, and her husband sitting only a few metres away on the sofa, completely unaware.
 
Simran’s whisper was sharp and urgent, barely audible over the soft sounds of the kitchen.
 
“Hath hata… abhi… Ravi yahan baitha hai…”
“Remove your hand… right now… Ravi is sitting here…”
 
She twisted her hips, trying to push Bhola’s thick middle finger out of her bare pussy. Her hand reached back and closed around his wrist, tugging, but he only curled the finger deeper, rubbing slowly against the sensitive front wall. A fresh wave of wetness coated his knuckle. The short nightie was bunched at her waist on one side; the other side had slipped lower. Her naked ass was fully exposed to him from behind while her husband sat only a few metres away on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.
 
Bhola leaned in until his mouth was against the side of her neck, voice a low, filthy murmur.
 
“Bhabhi… aap chai banao… aur main aapke doodh ko suck karta hoon. Warna aaj time nahi milega. Chuchiyan bhari hui hain… nikalne do.”
“Bhabhi… you make the tea… and I’ll suck your milk. Otherwise there won’t be time today. Boobs are full… let me take it out.”
 
His free hand came up and tried to cup her left breast over the thin nightie, squeezing the heavy, milk-filled globe through the fabric. The dark nipple was already stiff and damp against his palm. Simran twisted harder and slapped his hand away with a sharp, quiet *thwack*.
 
“Mat chhoo… abhi nahi. Ravi yahan hai. Thodi sharam kar. Hath hata.”
“Don’t touch… not now. Ravi is here. Have some shame. Remove your hand.”
 
She forced her attention back to the stove, hands shaking as she prepared the lemon tea. The kettle was already hot. She squeezed lemon, added a little sugar and salt, stirred. The entire time Bhola stayed pressed against her back, his thick finger moving inside her in slow, deliberate strokes — in, curl, out, in again — never fast enough to make wet sounds that might carry, but deep enough that her knees kept threatening to buckle. Every time she reached for a cup or the tray his finger pushed a little harder, stretching her open, reminding her she was completely bare under the tiny nightie and that her thong was still in his pocket.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

By the time the tea was ready her thighs were trembling. A thin, shiny trail of her own wetness had run down the inner side of one thigh. She finally grabbed his wrist with both hands and pulled his finger free with a soft, wet sound. The sudden emptiness made her bite her lip. She placed the cup on a small tray, straightened as best she could, and walked out of the kitchen toward the sofa.
 
She did not notice that one side of the short nightie had ridden completely up over the full curve of her left ass cheek. The soft, bare flesh was fully visible — the lower globe, the side of her hip, the beginning of the deep cleft — while the other side of the nightie still hung down. From the kitchen doorway Bhola watched her walk, the exposed half of her ass shifting and jiggling with each step, the silver waist chain glinting, and a slow smirk spread across his face.
 
Simran bent slightly to set the tray on the side table next to Ravi.
 
“Lemon tea… keep drinking. Stomach will stay light.”
 
Ravi took the cup with a tired nod, still looking at his phone.
 
“Thanks.”
 
She turned around to go back to the kitchen and immediately saw Bhola standing there with that same small, knowing smile. She frowned and made a quick, irritated gesture with her hand — *kya?* — demanding an explanation. Bhola only gave a tiny shake of his head, as if nothing at all was wrong, and kept looking at her.
 
The moment she stepped back into the kitchen he reached out, took the bunched-up side of the nightie between two fingers, and slowly pulled the hem down until both sides sat evenly again at the tops of her thighs. The soft fabric covered her bare ass once more. Simran’s eyes widened as she realised what he was showing her — that she had just walked across the living room and served her husband tea with half her naked ass completely exposed.
 
Her face flushed hot. She shoved at his chest with both hands, voice a furious whisper.
 
“Chhoro mujhe…”
“Leave me…”
 
She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and almost fled toward the stairs, the short nightie fluttering against her bare cheeks and the still-wet lips of her pussy with every hurried step. The thin trail of her own juices continued to cool on her inner thigh as she climbed.
 
At the top of the stairs she paused only long enough to call back toward the living room, voice carefully normal.
 
“Ravi… I’m going to take a bath. Then we have to go to Preeti’s clinic. She called… there’s something. It will be done quickly.”
 
Ravi’s voice came from the sofa, still tired.
 
“I’m tired, Simran. Not today.”
 
She kept her tone light even though her heart was still racing and her pussy was still twitching from Bhola’s finger.
 
“No problem. Bhola will drive. We’ll come back very quickly.”
 
She disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door, the tiny nightie still the only thing covering her, her thong still in Bhola’s pocket downstairs, and the taste of risk still sharp on her tongue.
 
The three of them arrived at Preeti’s clinic a little after the morning rush. Ravi still looked slightly pale but better than the previous night. Bhola had driven them and now waited outside near the car, leaning against the door with his arms folded, the same quiet, solid presence he always was in public. Inside, the clinic smelled of disinfectant and air-conditioning. Preeti met them at the reception with a professional smile that only Simran could read as something sharper.
 
She took Simran’s blood first — a quick, efficient draw from the inner elbow — then glanced at Ravi.
 
“How are you? Is the stomach okay now?”
 
Ravi gave a tired shrug.
 
“Yes, better. Last night it was very bad.”
 
Preeti nodded and then turned back to Simran.
 
“Come, let me check properly once. Come behind.”
 
She guided Simran behind a white curtain into the small examination area. The moment the curtain closed, Preeti’s clinical expression softened into something more knowing. She made Simran sit on the edge of the examination table and began the “check-up” with deliberate thoroughness. Her hands first rested on Simran’s shoulders, then slid down her back, pressing along the spine, feeling the muscles. When she reached the lower back she pressed deeper, thumbs digging into the soft flesh just above the curve of Simran’s ass.
 
“Breasts are heavy, right?” Preeti murmured, low enough that only Simran could hear. “They must have been full all night. And down there… is it still sensitive?”
 
Her hands moved around to the front. She cupped both of Simran’s breasts over the clothes, lifting their weight, squeezing gently but firmly, feeling how full they were. Milk had already begun to bead under the pressure; a faint dampness spread against the fabric. Preeti’s thumbs brushed deliberately across the nipples, circling once, twice, before she released them. Then she made Simran stand and turn, running her palms down over the full globes of her ass, spreading them slightly under the pretext of checking posture and lower-back strain. Her fingers lingered at the soft junction where ass met thigh, close enough to the heat of Simran’s pussy that Simran’s breath caught.
 
“Physio is necessary,” Preeti said softly, almost against her ear. “Daily. Otherwise this back and these boobs both will become a problem.”
 
When they stepped back out from behind the curtain, Preeti’s professional mask was firmly in place again. She addressed Simran while Ravi listened.
 
“Simran, your breasts are swelling a bit more. Weight has increased. And your back is feeling pressure managing that weight. This is not good in the long term.”
 
Simran blinked, playing her part, though her skin still tingled where Preeti’s hands had been.
 
“So… then?”
 
Ravi frowned slightly.
 
“What’s the solution? Some medicine?”
 
Preeti shook her head.
 
“No need for medicine. Physiotherapy is best. Proper massage — shoulders, back, lower back, and around the breasts for support as well. It should be done daily. Ideally twice a day, but at least once is absolutely necessary.”
 
Simran’s eyes widened a fraction, the picture of mild distress.
 
“Twice? Where will I find a physiotherapist every day? Going to the hospital will kill me. I don’t have that much time.”
 
Preeti gave a small, sympathetic smile.
 
“It’s not rocket science. I understand your load. Ravi…” she turned to him, “can you do it? Should I teach you?”
 
Ravi looked almost alarmed.
 
“Physiotherapy? Me? I don’t know anything. And I also keep traveling, I have to go out quite a bit. How is daily possible?”
 
Preeti sighed as if thinking.
 
“Actually if you mostly stayed at home it would be perfect. No need for travel for that. It can be done at home.”
 
A short silence settled over the three of them.
 

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Almost 30 pages of word document are still ready but the next statement make the story either this or that. Its an erotica, i have tried to keep it as close to reality as possible giving every possible chance of shag to each male or female reading my posts. But now you guys need to decide what can be done ahead. Help me out here. Also, i have 100s of images and videos for attaching here but i dont know why its not working anymore. I am unable to upload them inside the posts.

Please like and rate parts you like.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Goated comeback after being offline for few days 

Addition of Images will be cherry on top

I will try to add images and gifs

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Hi,
I am someone who is new to the story compared to many of the fellow readers. But I love this story!

You mentioned that the story can go from one of two directions from here. Not sure if there are two options. Please let me know if I understood that correctly, so can help you better.

Coming to the latest update - the scenes surrounding Bhola and Simran are amazingly written. I loved the part where Bhola does things with Simran behind Ravi’s back the most! Even the dynamic of Bhola stamping some sort of authority on Simran is nice! The stuff with lesbian couple preeti and her wish for pregnancy - I’m all for it.

The jeevdhatu saga - that kind of brings it more towards fantasy. It’s a good way to say that Bhola has to fuck these women to treat them, but it feels unrealistic. Compared to preeti or simran’s situation this part of the story line is hatke. NOT that It’s BAD. Just different.

Like I said - if you can tell us what the two directions you’re thinking - we can assist better. I am excited that you already have 30 pages worth of stuff written up already! Looking forward to reading it irrespective of where the story goes!

The story started as a Bhola centric dramaand his cock. But i am now more interested in making Simran our drama queen. She has lots of possibilities here. So thats one thing whether to make it just Bhola centric or Simran, our cow the main character here.
Then there is the question of making it a semi cuckold story or not. Semi, as in he does allow a few things, notices a few things etc, because making it just cheating seems less voluminous. So i was thinking about something. I dont want to disclose completely here.

But i took a long time to give the latest update. I was shifting houses, changing jobs etc. And hence this one took a backseat. But behind all those things i was continuing the story bit by bit. So that would have seriously angered a few readers. I apologize for that. But its not in my hands.

Btw the jeevdhatu thing does mean some drama which i also think amalgamating reality with fiction. But its necessary for one last tine to make the pussy the main showstopper here rather than the cock. History has seen the pussy to rule the earth, rather than the dick. So i am quite made up in my mind to make Simran more important here. For that jeevdhatu needs to come forward one last time.

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

How does jai know simran is mistress of bhola. He is visiting first time.

Where? Let me chk again

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Update will take sometime. Not all readers have given suggestions yet. I believe some new stuff may be suggested which clicks. Waiting for some more time.