“Thanks for the courteousness, Durgesh, but I wonder how to cross examine a person who has made a positive identification. I strongly feel that the identification is either a result of honest mistake, or the witness is lying deliberately.”

“You feel it yourself, yet you can’t prove it?”

“That’s the problem.” Hudā said anxiously, “It’s my first case here, in India. I want to go to the top of law profession. How can I do it, if I can’t break even a witness who is lying deliberately either, or making an honest mistake?”

The innocent face of Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness, flashed in front of my eyes.

“What’s your impression of that witness, Durgesh?” suddenly, Hudā asked me.

I looked at her gravely,

“I don’t think she is lying deliberately.”

Hudā laughed,

“Because she is a beautiful young Sunni Musalmān girl? Your Uncut Hindu Penis stands up when you see her?”

I smiled,

“Nonsense! I never allow my love, to you Musalmān Beauties, affect my factual decisions. You know it very well.”

Hudā controlled herself,

“Sorry, I was teasing you.”

“It’s all right. First of all, cross examine her whether she is lying deliberately or it’s her honest mistake.”

“How?”

“Watch her face and her eyes.”

“Oh yes, I— I forget that first step even.”

“Why are you nervous? Be confident and go on firing.”

“That’s what I too want to do. Yet, I can’t think questions so rapidly.”

“What’s there to think of?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just hear her answer and criticize it in a most devastating manner. Just go on keeping demoralizing her.”

“Demoralizing her?”Hudā was all astonished, “Only because she is a witness against my client?”

“Why not? Is your client guilty?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s your own impression of the client, Yār?”

“Well, I think—”

“Never think. Make your own decision first.” I interrupted her, “Judge her case yourself. What do you find her, if you are a judge and she is presented in front of your court?”

“Well, I’m not a judge. And her case is not presented in my court.”

“That’s the first big mistake you are doing.”

“What?”

“A defense attorney is the first judge, an accused approaches to.”

“What?”

“A defense attorney is an officer of a court. Aren’t you?”

“Of course, but— ”

“Only you know what your client’s own confidential version of the case is. Agreed?”

“Of course, but— ”

“Why does your client approach you?”

“Because she can’t represent herself.”

“Why?”

Sidrah Aħmad was listening to what we were discussing quite intently, immensely absorbed.

Hudā had opposed her presence, but she requested Hudā to allow her.

“I have only the limited time of lunch, Sidrah.” Hudā said curtly, “I want to get second opinion, from Durgesh, of this witness who is rattling me.”

“I won’t disturb.”Sidrah Aħmad promised, “It’s my promise. I want to know everything of law, for defending myself, in case I find me in such a situation. You know now very well that I’m also hyper sexual as Durgesh is. Yet, Durgesh can defend himself and his sex partners. He is himself a barrister. I’m not. ”

“You won’t try to satiate your own curiosity?” Hudā asked her curtly.

“I’d do better. I won’t say a word when you two discuss the case.”

Hudā looked at me.

“Well,” I said gravely, “It’s your case. It’s your client under trial. It’s your client’s fate on the fire. Decide yourself.”

“If I say a word, you can make me to leave both of you alone.”

Hudā consented.

Sidrah Aħmad was, surprisingly, keeping her promise.

“Why can’t she represent herself?” I repeated my question to Hudā.

“Well, she doesn’t know the law.”

After lunch, we’d come to the law library.

The discussion was resumed.

“Therefore she approaches you, an officer at the court, and bares herself to you. Why?”

“To get justice, of course! What else?”

“And if you decide she is guilty?”

“Then I’m not bound to take her case.”

“Means, she presents herself in your court of law first. And if you are satisfied she is innocent, you promise her to make the court and jury, both, to see her innocence. Right?”

“Well,” Hudā averted her eyes, “I never thought it in this way.”

“You took it lightly?”

“Perhaps, ‘Yes’.”

“That’s why you are being nervous now. You are feeling the challenge the witness is making to your own wisdom.”

“What?” Hudā almost jumped.

“You didn’t get my point?”

“Well,”

“You know more of the case than anyone after the defendant. Don’t you?”

“Of course!”

“You know more of the law than any damn witness, whosoever. Don’t you?”

“Yes, my darling, but—”

I raised my hand and stopped her in the middle,

“And this witness, who doesn’t know what you do of the case, this witness, who doesn’t know what you do of the law, thinks you are a fool to think the defendant is NOT guilty. She is confident that your client is guilty, without even having the knowledge you do have. Can she be right? Are you a fool?”

“Nonsense, that’s the reason I called you. How can I prove my point to the jury and judge? How do you do it in Supreme Court, I can’t do even in a district court, damn it.”

“Well, how do you prove your point in your personal life, when someone challenges your decision?”

“But she is not challenging my decision.”

“Have you decided the defendant is guilty?”

“Certainly not.” Hudā flared.

“Yet, that witness is laughing at you in the court. She thinks that the defendant is fooling you, and you are a fool to think she is not guilty.”

“Well,”

“Or you are a dirty shyster, defending a guilty client for only the sake of money.”

“I’m not.” Hudā said furiously.

“But the witness thinks you are, and you are letting her to do that.”

“Allah, Hudā,” Sidrah Aħmad suddenly stood up, “let me go away.”

“What?” Hudā was bewildered.

“I respected you thinking you are a woman of honor, self respect and prudence. I’m sorry that you are not.”

“What?”

“Durgesh is right. She is telling you that you are either a fool or shyster. What are you? Fool or shyster?”

“Sit down.”

“I don’t want to anymore. I proved my Abbū wrong when I was eighteen only. And you, how old are you?”

“Twenty eight.”

“Ten years elder to me than my age when I proved my Abbū wrong.”

“You are right. And thanks! I’m grateful to you, Sidrah.”

Sidrah Aħmad smiled,

“Durgesh, now she is ready.”

I smiled,

“Congratulations! You’ve won a very learned, confident and utmost faithful friend, Sidrah.”

“I know, that’s what I was trying to get.”Sidrah Aħmad smiled too, “My sex adventures get me into trouble every now and then. I require a legal advisor I can depend on, when you are busy.”

“Thank you, Sidrah.” Hudā smiled, “We all need Durgesh for survival.”

“Well, I’m always at your service, darlings.” I smiled.

They both laughed.

“Why don’t you give her an alive example, Durgesh?” Sidrah Aħmad suggested.

“Alive example?”

“Let her play Imāmzādī Almās Kaif, the witness here, and you play the defense attorney. Rattle her here yourself. Let her learn a practical lesson. What do you say?”

Hudā laughed,

“Durgesh would lose his confidence. I myself did.”

“You lost your confidence because your approach with that witness was wrong itself.” I smiled.

“You can rattle me?” Hudā laughed.

“I promise to do so.”

“Here?”

“Why not?”

“Now?”

“Of course!”

“Then go ahead. I want to be in her shoes to get my self confidence back.”

“Don’t. You would be a laughing stock.” I smiled mischievously.

“Well, the law library is locked from inside. Make me a laughing stock here, so that I can make that bloody bitch a laughing stock in the court.”

Sidrah Aħmad clapped,

“That’s the spirit. Now Durgesh, go ahead.”

“OK. Here I go.” I said and pointed my index finger to Hudā,

“Now, Ms. Kaif, you have testified that you saw the defendant taking the suitcase from the back of the automobile. Am I right?”

“Sure. That’s what I saw.” Hudā smiled patronizingly.

“You were wearing your glasses?”

“What glasses?”

“You don’t wear glasses?”

“For what, sir?”

“Tut tut. You can’t ask me any question, Ms. Kaif.” I smiled back patronizingly at her, “You are a witness here.”

“I—I could not understand your question.”

“Your honor,” I turned to Sidrah Aħmad, “may I ask the court reporter to repeat the question, please!”

Sidrah Aħmad laughed,

“I play the judge and the court reporter both. May I?”

“Go ahead.”

Sidrah Aħmad smiled and repeated my question,

“You don’t wear glasses?”

“Ms. Kaif, you heard the question, again?” I turned to face Hudā again.

“Y—yes, sir!”

“What did you not understand in this four word question? You? Don’t? Wear? Or glasses? Which word you did not understand?”

“Well, I understand the question, but— ”

“Oh, so you understand the question now?”

“I understood it, but— ”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” I acted surprised to the extent as if she had not lied, but murdered someone instead, “You understood it right when I asked it?”

“Yes sir!” Hudā was angry now.

“So you told a lie when you told the court that you did not understand it?” I asked in a too polite affable manner.

“Well, I didn’t mean it.”

“I see. You told a lie you didn’t mean?”

“It was not a lie.” Hudā blurted out.

“Oh, so you did not understand the question then?”

“I understood it, but didn’t understand why did you ask it.”

“You don’t?”

“Yes!” she flared.

“You see through your eyes of course. Don’t you?”

“Of course!” Hudā said ironically.

“And a person wears glasses on eyes when one has somewhat defective eyes. Isn’t it?”

“Allah, I don’t have any of my eyes defective.”

“Sure?”

“Yes!”

“Then what were you doing when you went to an optical expert last week?”

“What?”

“You did not hear my question again?”

“I heard your question. But it’s a lie.”

“What is a lie?”

“That I went to some optician last week.”

“You didn’t?”

“Never.”

“If I produce some witness who tells so, he is mistaken?”

“Yes!”

“And if I produce such a photo, it can’t be yours?”

“Yes!”

“You never wore a glass?”

“I don’t need it.”

“You never wore a glass?”

“No.” she flared contemptuously.

“What were you doing when you saw the witness opening that suitcase?”

“Walking on the road.”

“Where were you going?”

“I had some work to do.”

“Where?”

“On Tripath.”

“But your work was not so important enough that you had to concentrate on it?”

Hudā was alert again,

“My work was important enough to do right away in the night.”

“If such is the case why were you not concentrating on it?”

“Who says I was not concentrating on my work?”

“If you were, why were you not watching the road ahead?”

“What?”

I repeated my question patiently,

“If you were concentrating on your work, why were you not watching the road ahead?”

“I was watching the road ahead.”

“Yet, you saw the defendant, Naåeemah Waħāb, what she was doing sideways?” I smiled ironically, “Well, Ms. Kaif, will you please explain to the court, how you performed this great magic?”

Hudā was startled,

“Allah, I never thought this set of questions.”

“You’ve never to think any set of questions whatsoever. Never prejudice yourself.”

“I don’t get you.”

“Well, if your decision, that your client is not guilty, is right, what should have actually happened Hudā?”

Sidrah Aħmad had leaned forward, not to miss even any single word from me.

Hudā looked at Sidrah Aħmad, then turned to face me once again,

“So many things could have happened.”

“Such as?” I prompted Hudā.

“The police could have a faulty investigation.”

“But that’s scrutinized by the district attorney.” I argued, “Isn’t it?”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“It must be scrutinized by the district attorney, but it maybe that someone has framed the defendant, and the police and the district attorney, both are misguided.”

“Very good.” I encouraged Hudā, “Now you are getting what I want you to get.”

Sidrah Aħmad had unzipped me in the meantime, had taken my Uncut Hindu Penis out, and had started to suck me.

Hudā smiled at her lust, yet she didn’t say anything.

I kept on guiding Hudā,

“In the functioning of justice, the most important person for a client is the defense attorney. You, I mean. Do you follow me?”

Hudā looked at me admiringly,

“Well, I’m fascinated. I love your idea of justice, Durgesh!”

“It’s not my idea of justice, darling. It’s the truth.”

“Yes, I can see it now.”

“So, your role is the most important. You have to watch everyone and everything that no injustice can be administered to your client ever.”

“Then what’s the role of the judge?”

“He is not there to protect the defendant. He is representing public. He is functioning on the behalf of public.”

“I see.”

“District attorney is also not there to protect the defendant. He is too representing public. He is also functioning on the behalf of public.”

“You are right.”

“The police are there to prove your client is guilty. The district attorney is there to prove your client is guilty. The witnesses are there to prove your client is guilty. The judge and the members of jury are impartial. The spectators, if allowed there by the judge, are impartial.”

“Yes, I do agree with you.”

Sidrah Aħmad raised her head and asked me,

“Shouldn’t the police and the district attorney must be also impartial?”

“They must be. And they were when they investigated.”

“I see.”

“Once the police find the defendant guilty it ceases to be impartial anymore.”

“They are not supposed to be.”

“Theoretically.” I agreed, “But practically, it never happens, or it happens very rarely.”

“Why is it so, Durgesh? Why do both police and district attorney not perform their functions impartially while they must?” Hudā asked me complainingly.

“Because they think the witnesses never lie after they take the oath. It never happens.”

“Why?”

“Because we all are human beings, and that’s why we all do have our own shortcomings too. The witnesses are the utmost vulnerable sources of information.”

“Yet, our judiciary system depends on witnesses very much.”

“Because, vulnerable or not, we don’t have any more reliable source to get to the truth. We don’t have another option.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Of course, it’s dangerous. And that’s why a judge, twelve members of jury and a defense attorney, fourteen persons, are there to weigh the evidences brought against a defendant.”

“I see.”

“Out of these fourteen persons, the thirteen persons are impartial, the judge and the jury I mean. They represent the public, not the defendant.”

“So there’s only one person, actually, to represent and to protect the defendant, the defense counsel?” Hudā asked listening to me engrossed and fascinated.

“So there’s only one person, actually, to represent and to protect the defendant, the defense counsel.” I smiled at her, “That’s your function in the law enforcement, Hudā. You are the savior. Respect and worship your sacred profession, as I do.”***

It’s certainly not good for a supposedly happily married Sunni Musalmān woman, to fall in love.

That’s what happened to me, as I fell in love with a man, Durgesh, much younger to me.

And, to make matter worse, the man with whom I fell in love was none other than my own young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

After remaining faithful to my husband for nearly twenty years, one fine day I found that I was interested in my own teenage young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

My feeling towards my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, had nothing to do with a motherly love; an Ammījān has for her young Hindu Son.

In contrast, I desperately wanted him between my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān thighs, thrusting his rigid Hindu love tool into my willing receptacle, driving me wild with joy and ecstasy.

I badly wanted to feel his naked Hindu body lying top to me, his strong Hindu hands caressing my plump Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān body, his fingers pinching my tits and exploring my sex.

When these thoughts started haunting me; in the beginning, I was deeply ashamed of myself.

I was terribly shocked how I could think about having sex with my own young Hindu Son, Durgesh, probably, the worst kind of sin.

I spent numerous nights crying with shame, cursing myself.

I started Panjvaqtā Namāz regularly, I was not so careful about some times, now without fail, and prayed to Allah Subħān wa tålā to help me to overcome my immoral thoughts.

Time and again, I resolved to abolish my lewd Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān thoughts for my Hindu son.

Yes, I knew Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī and Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad were already having such sexual relations with Durgesh, entirely unashamed of them.

To recompense any guilt due to it whatsoever, they have become now more ardent Sunni Musalmān women, than even the rest of them.

Panjvaqtā Namāz is their utmost important activity now.

Now, they could leave to take food even, but never left, their Panjvaqtā Namāz at any cost whatsoever.

They performed tilāvat-e-Qur’an-o-aħādīs now more than ever.

Every now and then, now they were on rozā.

Zakāt was now utmost necessary for them to give to various Islamic foundations and institutions.

They have donated a large amount to Anti terrorist squad too, announcing that terrorism is quite against Islam , and fighting against terrorism is Jihad itself, Al Jihad fil Islam , fī sabīlillāh.

Surprisingly, this new strategy was working successfully too.

They are now so popular in Ummat-e-Muslimah and even in Mullahs and Maulavīs too, that they could themselves not believe their new grand success.

It was utmost surprising that none was talking of their incestuous relations with Durgesh now, though their opponents were doing their utmost efforts to advertise it day and night.

Both Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī and Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad had come closer forever now.

They were enjoying grand successful live in relationship with Durgesh now, with more respect in Ummat-e-Muslimah and in Mullahs and Maulavīs too.

I too started to follow Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī and Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad to get rid of my incestuous thoughts.

However, the incestuous thoughts remained very potent and after every brief stint of remorse, the fantasies came back more strongly, overwhelming even my toughest resolve.

I was well aware of the risks; my thoughts could bring on my family and myself in particular.

Living in a traditionally orthodox South Asian country, I knew very well what could happen if my feeling towards my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, become public.

My married life would be ruined permanently, and I would be a pariah for rest of my life.

Nonetheless, I could not do away with my incestuous thoughts about my young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

The sense of shame and guilt diminished over a period of time and finally, I succumbed to the temptation.

I gave up my resistance and started enjoying my lewd Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān thoughts about my young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

I convinced myself that I was only fantasizing, not actually doing anything with my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, thus my incestuous thoughts were no way going to harm anyone.

Little did I know that it was a stepping-stone toward my full-fledged sexual relationship with my young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

I started with fantasizing about my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, while masturbating.

To my surprise; I found that I was drawing immense pleasure out of it; I relished the terrific orgasms, every time it induced into my extremely beautiful, still athletic, Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān body.***

I must admit that, my transformation from a simple stay at home Ammījān to a horny slut didn’t happen in just one day.

Only six months back, I was a dedicated housewife to my husband Dr. Åbdullah, and a loving Ammījān to my only young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

Our marriage had already entered into its twentieth year, and most of the time our relationship was easy going.

I never had any problem with my husband.

Dr. Åbdullah was a good husband, a good father and he did everything to make us happy.

Rather I feel perhaps he overdid it.

I was only seventeen, when I got married to Dr. Åbdullah.

Like most of the marriages in my country, our marriage was also an arranged marriage.

I had never met Dr. Åbdullah before our marriage.

Dr. Åbdullah’s parents were old friend of my father.

Once he completed his graduation, our families decided that we would be life partners.

I was initially apprehensive about our marriage, but I found that my fears were uncalled for.

Dr. Åbdullah was a very handsome and good-natured young man, and above all, he was a terrific lover.

We had our first intercourse, on the first night of our honeymoon.

I didn’t have any sexual encounter before that night.

Although, Dr. Åbdullah was older than me for seven years, he was also a virgin, quite natural in our country that time.

I still remember when Dr. Åbdullah saw me naked for the first time; he was so excited that he shot his load, even before hisUncut Hindu Cockcould enter my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy.

That was the first time, when I saw a rigid male organ, naked and throbbing, spewing drop after drop of hot seed onto my bush and belly.

I enjoyed the feeling and I still relish the feel of hot cum drenching my body.

He was successful in his second attempt and I lost my maidenhood as he impaled his massive organ into my delicious Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Cunt.

I cried with pain as hisUncut Hindu Cockpopped my cherry, but soon the pain was replaced by a deep sense of exhilaration, and I went on enjoying my first intercourse tremendously.

I still reveled in the feeling with the same fervor, the rhythmic plundering of Dr. Åbdullah’s bulbousUncut Hindu Cockinto my slick Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy.

By the time, he fucked me for the second time; I knew in my heart that I was addicted to the newfound pleasure.

We were staying at a hill station; we remained in our room throughout our stay and did nothing other than making love again and again.

We seldom moved out of our hotel and didn’t visit any place at all.

As a result, when we returned home after our stay for two weeks, I was already pregnant.

Dr. Åbdullah was an engineer with a good job and excellent salary.

We moved to his place of posting; Mumbai, then known as Bombay.

We had an excellent marital life, with lots of love and plenty of sex.

Dr. Åbdullah and I always enjoyed sex and we never missed any single opportunity to jump into each other pants.

My husband was an excellent lover and he always kept my horny Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy in satiated condition.

Our sexual life had a lot of petting, caressing, and copulations but unfortunately, no oral simulation.

We were not into it.

Although a number of times, I watched porn movies with Dr. Åbdullah and I must admit that I was tempted to explore some of the new techniques shown in those movies.

However, Dr. Åbdullah had a different opinion about it.

It was not for the decent people to do those sort of things.

I could never dare to ask him.

I never sucked him and Dr. Åbdullah also never went down on me; he never tongued my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy.

We both were from religious and orthodox Sunni Musalmān families.

Naturally, such things were unheard in our orthodox families.

We never discussed sex with our parents.

I never knew whether my parent actually had sex.

However, I was always tempted to little nasty things, and I was only the fear of my Abbū, which forced me to keep my Sunni Musalmān hymen intact till my marriage.

Our initial ten years were excellent.

Dr. Åbdullah changed a number of jobs and finally, rose to the level of general manager in a company.

One day Dr. Åbdullah announced that he was quitting his job and setting up his own industry.

He got loan from the bank and soon started his own little workshop.

He had the knowledge of the field, good contacts at right places because of his earlier jobs, so his venture flourished and soon, he became a successful businessman.

We purchased a new apartment in a posh area and shifted to our new accommodation.

Success always comes with a price and ours too had its price.

The first casualty was our sex life.

Dr. Åbdullah became more and more busy, sometimes working fourteen to sixteen hours a day.

He became obsessed with success and that made him completely oblivious of his wife and his growing young Hindu Son, Durgesh, who was now in his puberty.

The frequency of our sexual encounter reduced drastically.

Almost every day Dr. Åbdullah would return very late at nights from his factory, exhausted and dead tired.

After dinner, he would immediately go to sleep, sometimes even without talking with me.

Initially, I was sympathetic to him.

I could appreciate his busy schedule and felt that after all he was doing it for us.

I tried to busy myself with my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, who was fast growing into handsome Hindu teenager.

I especially requested my friend, Imāmzādī Al Kħadījah Al Waħāb to let me grow her immensely handsome son.

She obliged me happily.

I looked after his studies and his other requirements that a teenager needed from his family.

However, the sex was like life nectar for me.

From the very first day, when I lost my maidenhood, I had adored sex and soon I started feeling the pinch of it.

My sex-starved Sunni Musalmān body started showing the signs of it.

I became more and more frustrated, and that resulted in numerous heated arguments with Dr. Åbdullah.

Most of the time, he was empathic and we reconciled, but his priorities had changed and after some day of restraint, he would again go back to his old ways.

Finally, I realized the futility of our altercations and resigned to my fate.

I was entering into my thirty-seventh year and Durgesh had turned into a fine looking young Hindu man.

He was regularly participating in sports and he had a passion for bodybuilding.

He had developed a small gym in his room and many a times, I watched him working in his gym, with only his shorts over his excellent Hindu male body.

I could recall the strange feelings of arousal; I used to have, while watching his seminude body working with weights.

I could not understand the reason for those feelings, but I loved to feast on his well-toned muscular Hindu body.

After celebrating my thirty-fifth birthday, I realized that I was putting on weight.

It was the worst nightmare for a Sunni Musalmān woman like me; who was known for her beauty and delicate figure.

I was no more delicate and curvaceous beauty.

My older clothes were no more fitting to me.

In the mirror, I could now see a puffier face, swelled thighs and tummy.

I was aghast.

I was always admired for my Sunni Musalmān beauty, and the sudden realization that I was no more a beautiful Sunni Musalmān woman, was devastating.

I tried to lose weight by exercising and dieting, but failed miserably.

Soon, I discerned that exercising was not my forte, and after some time, I gave it up.

I could draw solace from the fact that I was still plagued by numerous second stares; whenever I was out shopping.

I was aware of people stopping and trying to steal a second glance at me.

That was more than better for a chubby Sunni Musalmān woman in her late thirties; still, deep within I remained miserable.

Durgesh had completed his schooling.

His college was about thirty miles from our house.

In order to save his time during traveling, he decided to get an accommodation in a hostel within the premises of his college.

I didn’t like the idea.

I never wanted him to stay in the hostel.

I strongly opposed the idea.

Dr. Åbdullah was also in favor of our young Hindu Son, Durgesh’s staying at hostel. But, I refused to budge.

Finally, my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, showed some concern for me.

And it was decided that he would stay at the hostel, only during the examinations and during the similar exigencies.

During normal days, he would stay at home.

I was happy and I thanked my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, for his concern.

My happiness was short-lived.

Durgesh would leave the house early in the morning and would return only by evening, leaving me alone at house for the day.

It was only during the weekends, that we would be together in true sense.

I was again getting frustrated.

Finally, my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, suggested me a way to keep myself busy.

He introduced me to computers and especially to the Internet.

He took great pains in explaining basic things to me.

He taught me how to use a mouse, how to work with windows, how to connect to the Internet and how to open a mail ID and use it.

He created a mail ID for me.

With his help, I started using Internet.

Initially, I fumbled with the new technology.

Computers were not there when I was a student.

But, I was a quick learner and in a short span, I developed a knack for computers.

I started using it with ease and slowly became more and more confident.

I found it a good release and started spending hours before my young Hindu Son, Durgesh’s personal computer.

Dr. Åbdullah was especially happy, as I had stopped complaining.

I found Internet very fascinating and started spending hours online, mostly writing mails and chatting.

Almost regularly, I chatted with my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, or my husband, when they were away.

Durgesh was careful enough to drop me a line or two, every now and then, just to keep my mailbox full of mails.

I also made some online friends, and that kept me pretty busy during my free time.

I vented my frustration to my new hobby.

I became addicted to the web world.

As it happens to all Internet users, the Internet introduced me to the world of Internet sex.

Although, I was vaguely aware of it, initially I didn’t try to fiddle with any such ideas.

My young Hindu Son, Durgesh, had warned me about spams and had advised me not to open it, and to delete it directly from my mailbox.

In the beginning, I religiously followed his instructions, but once out of curiosity I clicked on one such mail.

Immediately, a new page opened on the screen, showing gorgeous naked girls displaying their genitals in the most lewd manner.

I was stunned to see it, and closed the page right away.

I shut down my computer, but the nude figures of those models continued dancing before my eyes.

Suddenly, my frustration was back with an overwhelming ferocity.

I didn’t have had any sex with my husband for last two months.

I longed to feel a Uncut Hindu Cock ravishing my horny Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy.

I tried to resist the temptation, but my horniness failed me, and I finally succumbed to the temptation.

I restarted the computer, reconnected to the net and opened my mailbox.

Again, I clicked on the link to open the same page, I had been watching last time.

This time it didn’t shock me.

I was prepared for it.

Leisurely, I scanned through the page, enjoying the nude girls and their displays.

Then, I clicked to another link given at the bottom of the page, opening a new page with more visuals, showing naked Hindu men and Musalmān women having sex in all possible manners.

I was extremely excited.

Unknowingly, my free hand traveled to my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy.

I gently rubbed it, through the material of my gown.

I had a strange feeling.

I had never masturbated before.

I had always thought it, as a bad thing and a god fearing simple housewife should not indulge in such activities.

My every notion changed that day, as my fingers didn’t stop at my hem.

My fingers entered inside my gown, even inside my panties.

I felt my soft curly bush and tender Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy lips.

I was dripping wet.

My fingers rubbed my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy lips, and for the first time, I was playing with my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy.

The feeling was of pure delight.

There was no guilt, just an overwhelming sense of Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān ecstasy.

My eyes were glued to the screen, which was continuously displaying Hindu men and Sunni Musalmān Sunni Musalmān women indulging in every sort of activities.

I watched pictures of Sunni Musalmān women having Uncut Hindu Cocks in their every Sunni Musalmān holes.

Hindu men shooting their Hindu Vīrý into their Sunni Musalmān faces and Sunni Musalmān mouths.

I excitedly watched them slurping the white gluey fluid sticking to their partners’ Uncut Hindu Cocks and to their own faces.

I was fascinated and deep in my heart; I ached to feel an Uncut Hindu Cock into my Sunni Musalmān mouth.

I continued browsing page after page.

I don’t remember how many or which sites, I visited that day.

I wasn’t concerned about that.

All I was interested in watching the pictures of Hindu men and Sunni Musalmān women having sex.

My fingers continued playing with my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy and Sunni Musalmān Clitoris.

The trembling in my legs was aggravating with every brush of my fingers over my swollen Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy and soon the floodgate opened.

I had brought myself to a thundering orgasm.

My first masturbation was an unforgettable experience.

My journey to Internet sex had begun.

I reveled in watching newer sites day by day and masturbate while watching those lascivious pictures.

My transformation into a horny slut was in progress.

My euphoria didn’t last long.

Soon, I found that I was not able to draw enough excitement from those pictures.

The effect was no longer as lasting as it was in the initial days.

I started getting bored with the images.

I wanted the stimulation that could linger on and on, even after shutting down the computer.

My search finally ended with the sites displaying erotic stories.

I found them very fascinating and straight away, I was hooked to it.

I started reading those nicely written stories, the descriptions so vivid and live, that most of them felt like actually happening.

It had enough ingredients to kindle my imagination.

Even when I was not using my computer, those narrations would become alive in my mind.

My fingers would automatically reach for my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy and start playing with my Sunni Musalmān Clit.

With every passing day, I became more and more daring.

Firstly, I stopped wearing panties; whenever I was alone at home, and later; I stopped putting on my clothes altogether.

I would sit in front of my computer completely naked, my one hand busy with keyboard and mouse, and the other busy with my dripping Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Pussy.

I loved the feel of my nakedness.

As soon as, I was alone at home, I would simply shed all my clothes and roam around in the house utterly nude.

Whenever, I was alone; I would open a new story and got myself busy with the lively narratives on the screen, while my fingers would play music with my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Cunt, taking me slowly to the most wonderful Sunni Musalmān orgasm.

My frequency of self-indulgence increased manifold.

On any particular day, I would finger myself to orgasm for three, four, or even more number of times.

It was the time, when I first started thinking about incest.

For some unexplained reasons, I found incestuous stories more captivating than the stories in the other categories.

One by one, I read most of them, brothers screwing their sisters, Abbū fucking their daughters, Ammījāns enjoying lustful relationships with their young Hindu Sons; uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, all of them enjoying sex with each other, doing all sorts of nasty things and what not.

To my amazement, I realized that it was the Ammījān young Hindu Son section, which I found the most titillating.

The themes of horny Ammījāns getting screwed by their teenage young Hindu Son, were so enchanting, that it always gave me the most powerful orgasm.

I feel, perhaps It was most convenient for me, to fantasize myself as the horny Ammījāns depicted in those stories, getting fucked by their teenage young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

My first reaction to my lecherous thoughts involving my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, was a disgustful repulsion.

I was conscience-stricken for days.

I was mortified, how could I even envisage myself having sex with my own young Hindu Son, Durgesh, the most forbidden relation between an Ammījān and her young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

It was a sin of worst kind and I prayed on numerous wakeful nights to get rid of my incestuous feelings.

In spite of my nagging conscience, my incestuous thoughts toward my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, continued, and rather it intensified with time.

Finally, my resistance ceased and I succumbed to the most enthralling temptation of my life.

I continued masturbating while thinking of having sex with Durgesh.

With the time, my fantasies involving Durgesh became more vivid and more kaleidoscopic.

Gradually, the feelings of guilt and shame were completely gone.

My lewd thoughts were no longer a sin; it simply became my most sensuous fantasies, my most precious treasure.

I derived extreme pleasure in fantasizing about doing every kind of vulgar things with my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, every time driving myself to the most shattering orgasm.

All the perceptions were changed and I realized that I desperately wanted to screw my own young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

Chapter 9

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More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh

1. Bahoo Bégum

2. The obsession

3 The daughters and wife of my Musalmān friend

4.The Extramarital affair: Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah:Social Service

5. Årab Mahā Bhārat: 1/18: ‘Ādi Parv: Saůūdī Årabia’–1