Ahal-Al Bayt-29

Posted: August 23, 2010 | Author: Durgesh | Filed under: Ashvinatam, Muslimahs, Muslimat | Tags: Ashvinatam, Ashvinatam sex, Ashvinatam Yugal, Behavioural Science, Durgesh, Feminism, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, life sciences, Muslim Feminism, Muslim girls love a Hindu, Muslim girls marry a Hindu, Muslim women love a Hindu, Muslim women marry a Hindu, society, Sophisticated Positive adult sex |4 Comments

Chapter 29

Durgesh Kħadījah Al Kubrah

I looked at my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, and saw tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah?” I asked. “Did I hurt you?”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, shook her Confident Proud and beautiful head.

“Yā Allaaaaaaah, no, you sure didn’t hurt me.” she said, sniffling a little, “You made me feel better than I ever knew a person could feel. I was just thinkin’ how stupid I was not knowin’ about this stuff.”

“Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, you aren’t stupid.” I said, “It’s the life you’ve lived. You’ve been isolated all these years with no way of ever learning things other Panjvaqtā Namazī Sunni Musalmān women know. I think it’s what your Shauhar wanted.”

“But what are we gonna do?” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, asked.

My mentioning her Shauhar— her husband –even, did not seem to frighten her in the least.

Instead, she smiled, kissed me on my lips, keeping my Uncut Hindu Lund still buried deepest into her still quivering Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Choot.

“He’s gonna know, ain’t he?”

“When was the last time he had sex with you?” I asked.

“I dunno.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, replied, “Been a lotta years. You know how he is. He is an ardent Musalmān.”

“I know exactly how he is.” I told her, “You don’t need to worry. He isn’t going to know and from now on, your life is going to be better. I promise. Now, not only your seven daughters are in live in relationship with me. You also are.” I kissed her gently, “Now, you are too my responsibility, darling. I love you.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, kissed me back,

“I love you, too, DURGESH, now even more than ever before, Méré Hindu Piyā!”

She snuggled into my arms and pressed her face against my chest.

I was twenty-five years old at that time, and lived in West Virginia in coal mining country, in the same county where Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s extremely beautiful Panjvaqtā Namazī Sunni Musalmān seven daughters were born and grew up.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was a miner.

Her husband, Muħammad bin Åbdullah, was her actually her manager, as were his father and grandfather were before him.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, expected me to follow Muħammad bin Åbdullah into the mines, but I didn’t.

Instead, I went into law enforcement, a profession that caused Muħammad bin Åbdullah more than a little discomfort.

All his seven daughters followed me, joining several law jobs.

I became a barrister.

So many of his daughters joined HVS Law Internationals, assisting me.

He didn’t like barristers.

As most of the Musalmeen, he was also somewhat a law-ignoring person.

For the communal fools only Qur’an-o-Aħādīs were law.

He did not agree with his Mistress wife, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, and me that most of the Musalmeen were less or more criminal minded due to their intense backwardness.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, bravely agreed with me in the matter.

It was natural I didn’t like Muħammad bin Åbdullah.

However, I didn’t hate him, either.

He wasn’t very likeable.

He was a good provider, but not of any sort of love or affection.

We’ve had several major battles over the years.

The first came when Fātimah Al Kubrah decided wanted to finish high school.

Nobody in his family ever got a high school diploma and Muħammad bin Åbdullah didn’t see the need to change that tradition.

“You don’t need one to work in the mines.” he said to Fātimah Al Kubrah, his eldest daughter.

When Fātimah Al Kubrah got a job as a counselor in a youth program run by the local sheriff’s department, Muħammad bin Åbdullah became even more upset.

He told Fātimah Al Kubrah it shamed him to have his daughter doing “sissy social work” stuff.

But it never shamed him to participate in the criminal activities of the backward Musalmeen.

“They are not backwardddddddddddd.” Muħammad bin Åbdullah.

Kħadījah Al Kubrah kicked him with her foot.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah was used to be kicked by his billionaire wife with feet till now very much.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, had serviced him too much.

She had made him even to lick her feet.

“They aaaaaaaaaare.”She shouted at him more loudly, “They aaaaaaaaaare. Only because they are born in a Musalmān household does not make them progressive.”

“You slut—”

But he could not complete his sentence.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, took him on her feet with such a rapidity that Muħammad bin Åbdullah even lost his breath.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, brought him out of the house still kicking him repetitively with her feet.

“Slut—? How dare youuuu? How dare you to call me a slut? You, Pimp! I can prove in any competent court that you tried to pimp me to Durgesh.”

Muħammad bin Åbdullah was dumb stricken.

“It’s a lie.” He cried out of sheer desperation.

“Fātimah, call the Police. Let him prove that I’m a slut in a competent court. And let me prove that he tried to pimp me to Durgesh.”

Muħammad bin Åbdullah started crying and weeping in frustration.

He licked his wife’s feet in front of a crowd of thousand onlookers.

He was asking for her forgiveness, yet Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, did not forgive him, and turned him to the Police.

She made a FIR against Muħammad bin Åbdullah that he tried to pimp her to me.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah was sent to Jail for three years.

Even then when he came out, Our second and even fiercer battle came when Fātimah Al Kubrah told him she wanted to go to college.

“No fucking way am I paying for fucking college.” he told Fātimah Al Kubrah, “You already got way fucking more fucking education that you need.”

He didn’t pay for Fātimah Al Kubrah’s education; I did, with student loans, scholarships, and hard work at many part-time jobs.

Naturally, Fātimah Al Kubrah was too obliged to me not to maintain a healthy live in relationship with me.

I especially didn’t like the way he treated my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

He married her when she was fourteen and she had Fātimah Al Kubrah the same year.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah’s family lived in South Carolina, in an area even more rural and impoverished than where they lived, and Muħammad bin Åbdullah was one of the seventeen kids.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, somehow knew about the family, went down, and negotiated with his parents to be allowed to marry her.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’ gave Muħammad bin Åbdullah’s family a two-year old pickup truck to seal the bargain.

It was something she’d occasionally throw up in his face.

I can’t tell how many times I’ve heard Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, say,

“I wish I still had that goddamn truck I gave your folks, it worked a helluva lot better than you do.” Every time she said it, Fātimah Al Kubrah wanted to deck Muħammad bin Åbdullah.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, brought back to the little house she’d built way back in the hills, and although she never beat Muħammad bin Åbdullah, she pretty much treated him like a servant.

It was their written agreement now to escape the three years punishment on the ‘proved’ charge of attempting to pimp his own billionaire Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān wife to his own multi billionaire Hindu son in law.

He deserved no better.

Only because he was named after Ħuzūr^s, he could not be treated with respect.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah was expected to wash her, and her daughters’ clothes, cook their meals, and take care of Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s daughters.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah could not give her even a son.

She had seven daughters instead.

That was something else Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, threw up in his face quite a bit.

I later learned that Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s not having a son did have one benefit.

After a few years, after seven consecutive daughters, Muħammad bin Åbdullah stopped trying to have a son any more.

Yet, other than to go to the doctor a few times during her pregnancy with me, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, never left the home once Muħammad bin Åbdullah got her there.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah didn’t know how to drive and Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, never wanted him to know how.

She also preferred that Muħammad bin Åbdullah not have any close friends.

Once she knew Muħammad bin Åbdullah’d bear her no more children, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, kept Muħammad bin Åbdullah only because he was a hard worker and kept a good house.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah washed, cooked, and split and stacked wood against the winter.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was so angry with him that she didn’t feel obligated to help.

Instead, she said,

“I work and pay the goddamn bills.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, did do the grocery shopping, mainly to keep Muħammad bin Åbdullah, isolated.

She expected Muħammad bin Åbdullah, to make most of his clothes, and what store-bought clothing he got came from mail order catalogs.

As soon as Fātimah Al Kubrah was old enough, I was expected to help my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, around the house, and did so gladly.

I enjoyed being with her.

She loved me without question.

And her love more than made up for the love I didn’t get from her Shauhar.

Although Muħammad bin Åbdullah didn’t have a lot of regard for Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s intelligence, I learned even when I was very young that she was a lot lot far more brighter than Muħammad bin Åbdullah thought she was.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah, was forced to quit school in the sixth grade and conditions around his house weren’t exactly intellectually stimulating.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, did try to help her daughters with their schoolwork, though.

In a sense, we wound up going to school together and learning from each other and together.

In fact, she did the same homework I did.

I actually had my high school English teacher review a few of the papers Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, wrote and was told they were quite good.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, loved hearing that.

Since Muħammad bin Åbdullah didn’t agree with Fātimah Al Kubrah’s finishing high school, he didn’t come to her graduation.

What a conservative, traditional, backward Musalmān Muħammad bin Åbdullah was.

Even nowadays, while even poorest Musalmeen were trying to give the highest education to their daughters, Muħammad bin Åbdullah opposed it childishly.

“Western education is making our entire girls to have live in relationship with capable Hindus. I suggest Madarsahs instead, therefore.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, kicked him with her foot.

The day Fātimah Al Kubrah left to go to college was one of the worst days of my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s life.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, and I did write, but I was never sure how many of Fātimah Al Kubrah’s letters Muħammad bin Åbdullah allowed to get through.

It bugged him that Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, had learned to read and write, something he never learned to do.

And because of Muħammad bin Åbdullah, my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, didn’t get to attend Fātimah Al Kubrah’s college graduation, either.

I did have friends take lots of pictures, which Fātimah Al Kubrah shared with Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, when she returned to her home.

During Fātimah Al Kubrah’s high school years, I developed a close friendship with the local, yet Indian, sheriff, Yog Nārāyañ Trivédī.

He helped me get Fātimah Al Kubrah the job with his department’s youth program-the one that bugged Muħammad bin Åbdullah so much.

I also spent a lot of time hanging out with him and his deputies and that prompted me to major in law enforcement in college.

Sheriff Yog Nārāyañ Trivédī told me Fātimah Al Kubrah could have a job with his department when she finished college and I took him up on the offer.

Fātimah Al Kubrah’d seen far more of the world than most of the kids she grew up with, and part of her didn’t want to go back to her home county, but Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was there and I didn’t want Fātimah Al Kubrah to abandon her.

At that point in time, my reasons for making Fātimah Al Kubrah go home weren’t in the least sexual.

Well, not that I was aware of, anyhow.

“You think I want some fucking lady cop living here?” was what Muħammad bin Åbdullah said when Fātimah Al Kubrah told him she had a job with the sheriff’s department and wanted to live at home.

“I thought maybe you could use a couple hundred dollars a month rent.” Fātimah Al Kubrah told her father smiling, “Ammījān won’t give you any money ever, Abbū. But I promise to compensate even while you did nothing to earn it.”

Muħammad bin Åbdullah wasn’t much for liking people, but he did like money.

His face changed immediately.

It was the look of greed Fātimah Al Kubrah and I’d come to know only too well over the years.

“Gonna have to feed me, too.” he grumbled, “Make it three hundred a month and I’ll feed you breakfast and dinner. You can get your own damn lunch.”

I loved his comment.

“I’ll feed you…”

Yeah, sure.

He’d starve to death if he had to cook.

“OK.” Fātimah Al Kubrah said.

I didn’t mind.

Even in that economically depressed part of the state, it would have cost Fātimah Al Kubrah a lot more to live somewhere else.

She was renting her old room.

Fātimah Al Kubrah redecorated it, put in a king-sized bed, and had a separate phone line put in.

I bought a computer for Fātimah Al Kubrah and set up Internet access with a satellite dish hookup, along with a satellite dish set up for two televisions.

The second TV was in the living room, and that made Muħammad bin Åbdullah very happy.

Fātimah Al Kubrah politely refused to take any financial help from her billionaire Ammījān, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

She humbly requested her to let her stand on her feet.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, looked at me.

Before I could interfere between the billionaire Ammī and her marching to conquer the world, ambitious, daughter, Fātimah Al Kubrah, she requested the same to me holding my feet,

“Please, Durgesh, let me win my battle myself. I’d never refuse any help, if it is necessary, neither from you, nor from my Ammījān.”

Muħammad bin Åbdullah thought the computer was totally stupid.

“What the hell do you want to waste your money on one ‘a them things for?” he grumbled when he saw Fātimah Al Kubrah setting the machine up.

“It will help me keep in touch with what’s going on in the world.” Fātimah Al Kubrah told him, “And I need it for work, too.”

“Fucking computers.” Muħammad bin Åbdullah grumbled as he stomped down the hall.

He refused to understand anything progressive.

“How I wish the impotent had never been named after Ħuzūr^s. As progressive Ħuzūr^s were, so backward this so called Muħammad bin Åbdullah is.”Kħadījah Al Kubrah murmured, “The misuse of these holy names must be banned.”

I smiled.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, tried hard not to show it when Muħammad bin Åbdullah was around, but she was clearly thrilled to have me home with Fātimah Al Kubrah.

She was also fascinated by both the TV and the computer; especially the computer.

I taught her how to use it and she did use it a little even when Muħammad bin Åbdullah was home.

Fātimah Al Kubrah chose working second shift so she’d have as little contact with Muħammad bin Åbdullah as possible.

He worked seven to three and Fātimah Al Kubrah worked three to eleven.

That meant Fātimah Al Kubrah was gone from the house when Muħammad bin Åbdullah got home and he was asleep when Fātimah Al Kubrah got home.

It also meant Fātimah Al Kubrah and I got to spend days with Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

On good weeks, we never saw or heard Muħammad bin Åbdullah.

I did occasionally have to put up with him on the weekends when Fātimah Al Kubrah wasn’t working, but he was generally gone then, too.

He claimed he was off hunting and fishing.

Both Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, and I knew that was a lie.

West Virginia did have a hunting season and it wasn’t year-round.

After Fātimah Al Kubrah went to work with the sheriff’s department, I found out that Muħammad bin Åbdullah’s idea of “hunting and fishing” involved working for some terrorist Musalmān organizations as much as he could.

I found his conduct and attitude alerting.

In his mentality, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was the Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān woman, had selected – purchased, really – him to bear his kids.

Sex with her was strictly for purposes of having kids.

When he accepted the fact Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, wasn’t going to give him even a single son, he stopped having sex with her.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah could not understand he lacked Y-chromosomes like most of the Musalmeen.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, had also even bought them twin beds so she didn’t have to sleep in the same bed Muħammad bin Åbdullah did.

Islamic activities, on the other hand, were to be used for politics and, from what older deputies on the department told Fātimah Al Kubrah; Muħammad bin Åbdullah was legendary among the traditional backward Musalmeen of the county.

The deputies seemed surprised that Muħammad bin Åbdullah’s behavior didn’t bother Fātimah Al Kubrah more.

“Anything that keeps him busy and helps to keep him mellow is OK by me.” Fātimah Al Kubrah told them.

It also kept him from bothering Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

I remembered exactly when I first started seeing my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, as a sexual being.

Truth be known, I’m pretty sure it was long before she began seeing herself that way.

She needed me sexually more than I needed her.

About six months before the night she came to my room, she and I talked about sex for the first time and after that, I never looked at her in quite the same way.

The day it happened, she and I were working on the woodpile.

I was splitting wood – manually, of course, Muħammad bin Åbdullah wasn’t about to waste money on a gas-powered wood splitter – and Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was stacking the wood.

She was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and one of my old sweatshirts.

She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and, for the first time I looked at her and saw an attractive, intriguing Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān woman, not just my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

She was 35+, yet she never looked her age.

A Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān she was after all, and a devout one.

It helped her beauty and youth to intensify very much.

She looked ten years younger, 25+.

I myself was 25, so people highly openly appreciated our pair.

“Durgesh is a multi billionaire, and Kħadījah Al Kubrah is a billionaire at least. Both are made for each other. A perfect pair Durgesh and Kħadījah Al Kubrah.”

Kħadījah Al Kubrah looked at the people, and then looked at me playfully.

“Are they mad, Durgesh?”

I only laughed.

After we’d worked for a couple of hours, we took a break.

“How come you have those sex places on your computer?” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, asked, surprising me.

And embarrassing me, too.

“Ah…you know…it’s…um…” I was all alert, “It’s just something…I…um…like to…you know…read about…um…sometimes.”

It wasn’t easy talking to your Ammī in law, about sex.

“I mean, what’s the big deal about sex anyhow?” she went on.

Her comment stunned me.

“What?” I asked.

“Well…I mean…I suppose there’s gotta be somethin’ about it.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, went on, “…cause there’s sure a lot of stuff about it on the computer and all…but I don’t get it. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

How do you respond to a comment like that?

If you have good sense, you probably don’t.

I did respond, which obviously means I don’t have much in the way of good sense.

“Sex can be an incredible experience.” I said, “When two people care about each other…” I stopped and realized that Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, who had only ever had sex with Muħammad bin Åbdullah, probably had no concept of what I was trying to say, “Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, this might sound like a dumb question.” I said, “But what do you think sex is?”

She frowned, blushed, then replied,

“What do you think? It’s what Muħammad bin Åbdullah done to make me pregnant with seven beautiful daughters?”

“What was it like?” I asked.

I had no illusion that she’d tell me Muħammad bin Åbdullah was a competent lover, but I wondered just what her sexual experiences with him were like.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, shrugged again,

“First time he done it to me, it hurt like hell and I bled a lot.” she said, “I thought I was gonna die for a while.”

Now I knew my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was a virgin when she married Muħammad bin Åbdullah,

“What about after that?” I asked.

I was surprised Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, didn’t seem at all embarrassed to be talking about this. Of course there was nothing in her experience that would have taught her to be embarrassed to talk about it, “What about after that?” I asked.

She shook her Confident Proud and beautiful head,

“Didn’t hurt as much after the first time.” she said, “Never bled when he done it to me after that. Mostly it was just kinda messy, I guess.” She looked at me and smiled, “Best thing about lettin’ him do it to me was that it got me my seven daughters.”

I walked over to her, put my arms around her, and hugged her, “It didn’t ever feel good?” I asked.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, looked at me as if I were stupid and shook her Confident Proud and beautiful head, “Nope. Like I said, after the first couple of times it didn’t hurt all that much, but it sure as heck never felt good.” She seemed to sense what I was thinking, “Why, is it supposed to feel good? Is there somethin’ wrong with me ’cause it didn’t?”

I pulled her into my Hindu arms and held her tightly against me.

I kissed her cheek and said,

“Don’t worry, darling, there’s nothing wrong with you.” I told her, “Nothing at all.”

My words apparently satisfied her because I felt her relax a little in my embrace.

She leaned back in my embrace and smiled at me, “Now havin’ you hug me.” she said, giggling softly, “that feels really good. I never felt so good before.”

“It feels good to me, too, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.” I told her.

I leaned forward and pressed my Hindu lips lightly against hers, kissing her just as I had thousands of times before.

Except that it wasn’t at all like, it had been thousands of times before.

I’m not sure why, but that kiss, intended to be innocent, sent powerful feelings through me.

I was surprised by it and didn’t hold it very long and when I finally did lift my face from Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s I saw a look in her eyes that told me the kiss was different for her, too.

Sexy, I mean.

“We…um…we gotta get this wood done.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, said, looking away from me. Her face was bright red.

“Ah…yeah…we…um…I guess so.” I smiled in reply.

I finished splitting the wood I’d cut into chunks and Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, finished stacking the split wood.

Then she went into the house and I used Muħammad bin Åbdullah’s chainsaw to cut more of the logs in the pile in the back yard into chunks that I would split the next day.

I needed to keep on working.

I hoped it would keep me from thinking about what had happened between my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, and me, when I embraced and kissed her, but it didn’t.

I finished cutting up the wood, cleaned, oiled, and fueled the chainsaw, and put it away in the shed where we kept it, then I walked into the house.

It was late and I needed to get ready for work. Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was standing at the kitchen range, stirring a pot, and when I saw her, I knew that at least our life had changed forever.

I was no longer looking at Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, I was looking at a Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān woman and it was a Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān woman I found intriguing and alluring.

For the first time, I wondered what the body hidden by Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s loose clothes looked like…and felt like.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, looked over at me and smiled,

“This stew’ll be done ’bout the time you’re changed.” she said, “Want me to put some out for you ‘afore you head off to work?”

“Ah…sure…I…I’ll…um…” I smiled.

As I stood in the shower, I found my thoughts again drifting to Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

What she might look like nude?

The result of my lascivious, forbidden thoughts was an erection, which I took care of by holding it while imaginary pictures of my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s naked body flashed through my mind.

Dressed in my uniform and feeling more than a little proud of the thoughts I’d been having, I walked out into the kitchen.

I was a young Hindu man after all.

Kħadījah Al Kubrah was a Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān Beauty after all.

What’s wrong there if we both want to fuck each other?

It was natural.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, had a steaming dish of stew waiting on the table for me.

She smiled at me and said,

“Eat up.”

I tried not to act as if anything had changed, sat down, and began to eat.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was a great cook and the stew tasted wonderful.

While I was eating, she came over and set a glass of milk on the table,

“Here.” she said, “You need somethin’ to wash that down.” Instead of walking away, she put her beautiful hand on the back of my neck and tickled it lightly.

I don’t remember her ever doing anything like that before, or if she did, I don’t remember it feeling like that.

It was as if there was a direct connection between the back of my neck and my Uncut Hindu Lund, a connection that only carried wonderful feelings.

A delightful current shot along that connection, causing my Uncut Hindu Lund to stiffen slightly and surprisingly nice feelings to spread up through me.

For a second, I had a problem breathing.

“Ah…thanks…Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.” I croaked.

I kept eating, although I really couldn’t taste the food any more.

I finished my meal, stood up, took the dishes to the sink, and rinsed them.

When I turned around, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was standing there, looking at me, smiling.

“You look real handsome in your uniform.” she said. She grinned, “But don’t tell Muħammad bin Åbdullah I said that. You know how he feels about you workin’ for Sheriff Yog Nārāyañ Trivédī.”

Then, before I could move, she walked over to me, hugged me, then she kissed me on the cheek, “Come home safe.” she whispered in my ear before she let me go and backed up a step.

The reaction she’d begun by tickling my neck was intensified by her hug.

She and I always hugged a lot when I was small – as long as Muħammad bin Åbdullah wasn’t around, of course – but the hugs had been few and far between since I’d come home as an adult.

I walked out of the house, got in my cruiser, started it up, picked up the radio mike, and called dispatch,

“4125 to dispatch.” I said.

Almost before the words were out of my mouth I realized I’d used my radio number from my campus security days.

“4125? Who’s 4125?” the dispatcher responded.

I could tell from the sound of her voice that she was laughing.

“This is County fifteen.” I said, correcting my mistake, “Show me 10-41.”

That’s the radio code for “on duty.”

“10-4 County fifteen.” the dispatcher said, “Or should I say 4125 – fifteen?” This time she didn’t try to hide her laughter.

I can’t remember having an odder shift than the one I worked that night.

It wasn’t that so much weird stuff happened; it was more that I was distracted most of the night.

At least a half-dozen speeders got a break because I was sitting in my car lost in reveries about my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān nude body and not paying attention to the readout on my cruiser’s radar unit.

I was lucky it was early in the week, because my shift was relatively quiet.

We had one fight at the local bar, but it only involved three patrons, not the dozen or so we can expect Friday and Saturday nights.

Most of my time was spent on patrol, which gave me a lot of time to think.

And the only thing I could think about was my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

By the time I headed home at the end of my shift, I’d made up my mind that if I could, I was going to help my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, learn what it was like to be loved by someone who really cared about her.

She’d spent far too much of her life deprived of that knowledge.

I knew teaching her about sexuality meant she would have to have sex with someone.

I also knew that whoever she had sex with had to be a person she knew and trusted and who loved her.

From the way I saw it, there was only one person who met those criteria.

Me.

I was going to seduce my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, and cuckold Muħammad bin Åbdullah.

He must be punished.

It was eleven fifteen when I turned off the highway onto the road our house was located on and picked up my radio mike, “County fifteen to dispatch.” I said, “Show me 10-42.”

That meant I was going off-duty.

“10-4 County fifteen.” the dispatcher, a different one than had been on when my shift started, said, “You’re 10-42 at 2317. Good night, 4125.” That last was followed by cackling laughter.

I shook my head.

It looked as if the mistake caused earlier by my state of mind was going to stay with me for a while.

I pulled my cruiser up to beside my pickup truck next to the barn, shut the engine off, then I got out, locked it up, went inside, and went to bed.

I had to go by Fātimah Al Kubrah’s parents’ room to get to mine.

I stopped in front of their closed door and closed my eyes.

All I could think of was my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, in one of the flannel nightgowns she always wore, lying in her bed, sound asleep, with her beautiful long hair fanned out around her face.

That caused an immediate reaction.

I could feel my Uncut Hindu Lund stiffening.

I took a deep breath and continued on down the hallway to my room, took off my clothes, and fell into bed.

As I laid there in the darkness, I tried, but couldn’t keep sensuous images of my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, from forming in my mind.

I visualized her walking through my door, completely nude.

Apparently, I have a dramatic streak I wasn’t aware of, because in my fantasy, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was backlit and, somehow, a gentle breeze was fanning her hair.

I knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t keep my body from reacting as if it was.

I think I mentioned that I’m twenty-five years old, so you know holding my Uncut Hindu Penis wasn’t something new to me.

Just the same, that night, while my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s face filled my thoughts, I experienced the most intense orgasm.

For the first time in a long time, the sound of Muħammad bin Åbdullah leaving for work woke me the next morning.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I realized quickly that wasn’t going to happen, so I got up.

I slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, went to the bathroom, then headed for the kitchen.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was sitting at the table, holding a cup of coffee in both hands.

She smiled at me,

“You’re up kinda early, you OK?” she asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I said.

I started for the stove to get myself a cup of coffee, but stopped, turned, and walked up behind the chair Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was sitting in,

“How did you sleep?” I asked her.

I began combing my fingers through her hair, “You have the softest hair.” I said softly, “It’s like silk.”

“That feels nice, darlin’.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, said.

I pulled her hair back on one side, bent, and kissed her on the neck.

Then I wrapped my arms around her, across her upper chest and kissed her on the cheek, “I love you, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.” I said.

“I love you, too, darlin’.” she replied. She put her beautiful hand on my arm, “What’s this huggin’ all about?”

“I think a pretty young Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān lady like you deserves to be hugged a lot.” I told her, “And I figure I’m the guy to do it.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, squeezed my arm gently, “I ain’t complainin’.” she said softly, “I like when you hug me. I been missin’ it since you went off to college and got all grown up and all. I thought, maybe, you didn’t like doin’ it any more.”

I squeezed her even tighter and kissed her cheek again,

“No way.” I told her, “You better get used to being hugged, because you’re going to get hugged a lot from now on.”

“I ain’t gonna complain ’bout that.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, said, giggling softly.

I nibbled on her ear a little bit before I let go of her and that made her giggle again,

“You can keep doin’ that, too.” she chuckled.

“OK.” I said.

I finished my trip to the stove, poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot she kept warm there, then sat down at the table across from her,

“What do we have to get done today?” I asked her after I took a sip of coffee.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, sipped some of her coffee, “I got to get some laundry done.” she replied, “Don’t know as there’s anything you need to do.”

“I can help you with the laundry.” I said.

“Laundry’s women’s work.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, replied quickly, “Nothing a man should be doin’.”

“Who do you think did my laundry when I was in college?” I asked her, “I didn’t have a Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān woman to do it for me.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, put her cup down and gazed across the table at me with an interesting look,

“You have a lotta Musalmān girlfriends while you were in college?” she asked.

“I dated lot of Sunni Musalmān girls, yes!” I told her.

“You get serious about any of ’em?”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s question surprised me.

She’d never asked me about any of this before.

“Sure, I enjoyed all of them.” I told her.

Yet, I didn’t say The only “girl” I wanted now was back here in the hills.

“You always do sex with all of them?” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, asked.

That was a question I hadn’t expected.

I nodded,

“All of them. Yes.” I said.

I was surprised by the look I saw in my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s eyes.

Unless I was totally misreading her, she was hurt and, maybe, a little jealous.

“It didn’t mean anything.” I added quickly, “It…well…it was just something…you know…to do.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s look changed to one of puzzlement,

“Why would you do that?” she asked, “You didn’t want to get them pregnant, did you?”

“Heck no.” I told her, “No way.”

“Then how come you did sex with them?”

“Because it’s fun.” I said, “Because it feels really good.”

“I don’t get it.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, said, shaking her Confident Proud and beautiful head, “I don’t see why anybody would do that for fun.”

“Because it isn’t the way you think it is, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.” I said, “Believe me, sex is nothing like what Muħammad bin Åbdullah did to you. It’s something far more excellent.”

She studied my face for a while, as if she was trying to be sure I was telling the truth,

“What is it like?” she asked.

“It can be the most wonderful experience a person can have.” I replied, “Especially if you experience it with someone you really care for and who really cares for you.”

“You ever have anything like that?” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, asked.

I decided that honesty was the best policy.

I wanted to pique Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s interest,

“Ah…I’ve had some good sexual experiences, maybe even a few great sexual experiences.” I said, “But I’m not sure I ever had a really incredible sexual experience.” I lied tactfully with a definite purpose.

“How come?” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, asked.

I shrugged,

“I guess it’s because I’ve never made love with anyone I care deeply about and who cares deeply about me.”

“You wrote there were a lot of mm girls at college who liked you.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, said, “And there were a lot of really pretty Musalmān girls in the pictures you brought home. How come you couldn’t find one you could really care about?”

I took a deep breath, looked right at her, and said,

“Maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s face got bright red and she looked down at the cup she was holding in her beautiful hands,

“Ah…I…I need a little more coffee, then I need to get my work done.” she said.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the first step in the journey that led to my eventually getting to make love with my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.

I woke up early the day after Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, and I first made love and laid in my bed listening to the sound of Muħammad bin Åbdullah getting ready for work, then I heard the door slam when he left the house.

After that came the sound of his truck starting and heading down the road.

I waited in my bed, my heart pounding, hoping my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, would visit me again.

The day before she laid in my arms for a while after we finished making love, then she got up, got dressed, and left the room.

I have to admit, she seemed a little uptight and distracted the rest of the day, but we didn’t have a lot of contact since I was outside working on the woodpile and she spent the day inside, doing laundry, dishes, and cleaning the house.

As I lay there, I could hear Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, moving around the house, doing things, and that told me she wasn’t going to be coming for a visit, so I got out of bed and slipped on a T-shirt and sweat pants, then I went out to the kitchen.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was standing at the sink, washing the dishes she’d dirtied cooking Muħammad bin Åbdullah’s breakfast.

She was wearing one of the many faded loose housedresses that made up the bulk of her wardrobe.

This one was once brown and had faded to a dark tan hue.

“Good morning, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.” I said when I walked into the kitchen.

“Mornin’.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, replied without turning around.

I walked over to where Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was, slipped my arms around her waist, bent, and kissed her on the cheek.

I was surprised to feel her body stiffen,

“What’s the matter, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah?” I asked.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, turned, then backed out my arms until she was standing about three feet away from me.

Her face was flushed and I could see confusion and hurt in her eyes,

“Why’d you do this to me?” she asked.

“Do what?” I asked.

“You know what I’m talkin’ about…what we done yesterday…it’s wrong.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, said, “It’s against Allah’s law and man’s law. You had sex with me till we both were content. You put your Hindu seed deepest into me too.”

“Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?” I smiled.

I poured myself a cup of coffee – carefully.

My hands were shaking –I saw to it.

Then I walked over to the table and sat down.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, followed and sat down across the table from me.

I took a sip of my coffee,

“Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, why is it wrong for two people who love each other to show their love?” I asked.

“What we done is more than that.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, replied quickly, “It ain’t right for a Ammī in law , and son in law to be doin’ what we done. Why’d you do it?”

I sipped some more of my coffee, took a deep breath, and continued,

“Because after you told me what Muħammad bin Åbdullah did to you, I wanted to show you what making love is really like.” My eyes were locked on hers.

It was almost as if I could see into her mind. I knew she was confused.

“That…it don’t matter…we…we shouldn’t of…” she stammered.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to do it.” I continued, “What was I going to do, talk you into making love with somebody else? That wouldn’t be right, either.”

“If we didn’t do nothing, then…” she said, and stopped.

“Are you sorry you’ve learned what you’ve learned?” I asked, “Are you sorry you felt the things you felt?”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, looked at me for a long time, then she sighed and shook her Confident Proud and beautiful head,

“No, I ain’t sorry.” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Would it have been better if it had been someone other than me who had taught you about making love?” I continued.

She looked down at her beautiful hands and shook her Confident Proud and beautiful head again,

“No…I…I’d ‘a never done nothin’ like that with nobody else.” She shuddered visibly, “I couldn’t ‘a done it with nobody else.”

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

Her eyes came up, her face got redder, and she took a deep breath.

Her Confident Proud and beautiful head moved slowly from side to side and, speaking so softly I could barely hear her, she said,

“No…Allah forgive me, no I…I don’t want you to stop ever now. I…I never knew I could feel that good.” Her eyes fell toward the table again, “I…I can’t stop thinkin’ about how good what we did felt.”

I could see a tremor run through her,

“And I hate that because thinkin’ about it makes me want to do it again.” She looked at me again, “We shouldn’t be doin’ it. If your father in law ever finds out…”

“There is no way he’ll ever find out.” I told her, “I’m not about to tell him and I know you won’t.”

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, shook her Confident Proud and beautiful head.

I got up, walked around to the side of the table where my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, was sitting, and stood next to her,

“Stand up, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah.” I said softly.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide.

The same look was in them that I saw when she came to my room the day before.

Slowly, she rose from the chair and stood in front of me, gazing into my eyes.

She was breathing a little harder than usual, her face remained flushed, and her mouth was slightly open.

I took both of her beautiful hands in mine and could feel her not trembling even a bit,

“Do you want to stop what we’re doing?” I asked softly.

She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and her Confident Proud and beautiful head moved slowly from side to side.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers.

Her mouth opened slightly and she pressed back against me.

Kissing her was totally unlike any kissing I’d ever experienced in my life.

Her lips were unbelievably soft and warm, and seemed to bond with mine – it’s the only way I can describe it.

When we kissed, it felt so wonderful I never wanted to stop.

All of the softness and connection also served to have an incredibly erotic effect on me and, I’m pretty sure, on her, too.

After kissing for a few moments, we reluctantly lifted our lips from each other, leaned back, and softly gasped for breath.

I looked right into Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s eyes, she looked right into mine.

“I…I never knew…it…kissin’ somebody could…could feel so good.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, stammered softly.

“Me, either.” I replied, and noticed the surprised look in Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s eyes.

“Really?” she said.

“Really.” I smiled confidently assuring her more and more, “I think it may have something to do with the fact that we love each other, darling.”

“Oh.” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, said softly.

I leaned forward and our lips joined again.

Our hands were still clasped, fingers intertwined, and they remained that way.

As the kiss endured, Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s body leaned against mine, moving sensuously.

I’m not sure she was aware of what she was doing.

My body surged forward gently, pushing against hers.

Again we needed to break to get breath, and we did.

Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah’s face was flushed now, and I thought the lovely glow made her look so much more alluring.

I began to unbutton the buttons that ran down the front of her dress.

Her eyes, full of love, desire, and trust remained locked on mine.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she breathed.

“I’m not going to call you ‘Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah,’ any more.” I said as I undid one button after the other.

“You…you aren’t?” Ammī, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, murmured, looking puzzled.

“I’m going to call you Kħadījah, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, my beloved.” I said, “Kħadījah Al Kubrah, my beloved.” I took a deep breath, “And you will always be my beloved. Won’t you?”

I can’t remember the last time I heard anybody call my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, by her given name.

Muħammad bin Åbdullah generally called her, “Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān woman” the few times he mad a direct reference to her. Mostly he just said things like, “hey.” “Come here.” and stuff like that. The guy was a real class act. It’s why I feel the way I do about him.

Kħadījah Al Kubrah bit her lip softly, then nodded slowly.

I had her dress unbuttoned all the way to her waist.

I slid my hands inside, onto her bare excellent breasts.

Fortunately, Muħammad bin Åbdullah thought bras were a waste of money, which meant my Ammī-in-law, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, had only a few of them and hardly ever wore one.

It felt so wonderful to have her rock-hard nipples pressing into my palms.

I squeezed Her proud Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān excellent breasts gently.

“Nnnnnnnnnn!” Kħadījah Al Kubrah groaned, leaning into me, pressing herself against my hands.

“You like that, don’t you, Kħadījah, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, my beloved?” I asked.

“Yā Allaaaaaaah, Durgesh darling, Méré Hindu Piyā! Mérī Jān! I surely do.” she murmured, “You make me feel so good.”

“You deserve to feel so good.” I smiled at her reassuringly.

I leaned forward and, once more, our lips joined.

If anything, this kiss felt even better than the ones we’d shared earlier.

It was more intense and urgent than our earlier kisses had been and almost felt as if, somehow, she was trying to suck me inside her.

While it went on, I continued to cup Her proud Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān excellent breasts gently.

I also rotated my palms, teasing her rigid nipples with my palms and teasing my palms with her nipples.

Tingling, wonderful feelings raced from my hands, up my arms, and down into my body.

Additional marvelous feelings were moving from my lips down into me at the same time, and all of them were joining somewhere deep in my Hindu middle.

Gasping for breath, we again pulled our faces apart.

The look on Kħadījah, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, my beloved’s face told me I was doing exactly the right things.

She was clearly caught up in rapturous feelings, feelings I’d evoked in her.

Knowing that I was having that kind of impact on her was pretty heady stuff.

“Want to go to my bedroom?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Holding Kħadījah, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, my beloved’s excellent breasts in my hands, I slowly backed down the hallway that led from the kitchen to my bedroom, pausing from time to time to kiss her.

She moved with me, her eyes never leaving mine, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips as we moved.

When we reached the bedroom, I let go of her proud Panjvaqtā Namazī Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān excellent breasts and finished unbuttoning her dress.

She surprised me by grabbing the waist of my sweat pants and pushing them down.

The only problem was that I now had an erection and getting the waist past that gave her a little trouble, but she managed.

“Is…is that…is it…because…because of…of me?” Kħadījah Al Kubrah murmured. She was staring down, at my Hindu erection.

“Yes, only because of you, Kħadījah, Kħadījah Al Kubrah, my beloved.” I told her, “See how wet the tip is?”

She bit her lip softly and nodded slowly.

“That’s because of you, too. Are you wet?”

She looked up at me, smiled shyly, and nodded, “And that there’s because of you, Durgesh darling, Méré Hindu Piyā! Mérī Jān! isn’t it?”

Chapter 30

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