Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh: 6Posted: September 6, 2011
Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh
Durgesh Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar
Sālī, want to get laid?
I was sitting on the sofa in the living room with my back against the sofa watching TV.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was sitting on my lap boldly notwithstanding the fact that one of her countless brothers and one of her countless Bhābhījāns were also present there.
Her Bhābhījān, Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar, was lying on the sofa with her head raised up against a cushion at one end and her feet up towards my head.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is a lovely girl, Durgesh.” Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar smiled at me, “Only because she is siding with us young Musalmān Beauties you shouldn’t think she doesn’t love you.”
“Farīdah Bābar is right.” Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan immediately seconded his wife.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Thirty. Why? You already know, Dūlhā Bhāī.”
“You called me, ‘Papaji’, Ħabīb.” I said sternly, “I’m old enough to be your father too. Moreover, your Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, is my Live in relationship first, than your sister, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is.”
“Well,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan cooed, “Don’t scold my elder brother. Ħabīb Bhāījān loves me more even than Ammī does.”
“Let me stand, Naåīmah.”
“I’ve just sit on your lap. Ammījān is heavier than I am. Yet you let her sit on your lap for even more than five hours nonstop.”
“Naåīmah Bājī,” Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan teased me, “Ammījān has given five sons to Durgesh Dūlhā Bhāī. Have you?”
“Sālé.” I gritted through my teeth.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled with pride.
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan was in the armchair a few feet away, his head engrossed in a newspaper, his favorite ‘activity’.
“Durgesh darling, my Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love,” said Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar . “My feet are aching after being out shopping this afternoon. Please, can you massage them for me? Nanad Begum says you love to massage Musalmān Beauties very much.”
“Sure Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar “I beamed, “Naåīmah, Sālī, let me stand now.”
Suddenly Nafīsah Salmān entered there.
She had heard already what was going on.
She scolded her son.
“Why did you marry four extremely attractive Musalmān Beauties, Ħabīb? You don’t deserve even a single one. Shame on you. Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar is your wife. Isn’t she?”
Ħabīb stood up in respect of his Ammījān.
“Ammījān, Dūlhā Bhāī does it more skillfully.”
“Therefore your Dūlhā Bhāī will massage your twenty eight years old extremely beautiful young Musalmān wife?”
“I’m surprised, Ammījān.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan interjected, “You have given Durgesh five sons. Naturally it means you are very very dear to him and he enjoys your company even more than the rest of his Live in relationship Partners.”
“Thank you very much, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,” Nafīsah Salmān said curtly, “If you haven’t told me, I couldn’t have understood how much Durgesh loves me. His five sons from me are not enough proof to me for his intense love for me.”
I turned facing the sofa and Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar raised her sari a little above her ankles.
Nafīsah Salmān saw it and said to her son, Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan,
“You massage your wife, why Durgesh?”
“I’m surprised Ammījān.” Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar was somewhat furious, “I’m asking Durgesh to massage me, not to fuck me.”
“I have no objection.” Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan announced.
“What’s wrong there even if Durgesh and Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar Bhābhījān fuck each other?”Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said to Nafīsah Salmān, “You are still backward, Ammī. Even the long company of Durgesh hasn’t made you ultra modern.”
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar smiled ironically,
“Well,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled watching her Ammījān, Nafīsah Salmān, challengingly, “Ammījān is afraid of us twenty eights and teenagers that we can snatch Durgesh away from her and her once ravenous Saůūdī Årab Musalmān friends. She is watching ‘Ashvinātam’ is now bubbling with us twenty eights and teens even, more and more day by day. Even Durgesh is not capable to stop it despite his every sincere effort.”
To end the dispute, I massaged Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar.***
After a couple of days, Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar asked me to massage her again.
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan was in the room again as well, reading his paper as before.
This time he looked up and said,
“That’s right, Dūlhā Bhāī, make sure your Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s comfortable.”
“Sālé,” I laughed, “as if she is really mine.”
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan smiled shrewdly.
As before, Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar looked Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan scornfully, lifted her sari and under-petticoat a little, but this time a bit higher up to her calves.
“Give my ankles and calves a rub as well please darling,” she said.
I started rubbing her feet, then up toward the ankles and then her calves.
For the first time I noticed how smooth her lightly tanned skin and the part of her leg that I could see were.
There were no hairs visible, so Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar seemed to shave her legs, and looked after their appearance.
After a few minutes, I actually started to enjoy the sensation of touching her calf muscles and feeling her soft skin.
I think for the first time I saw her as a woman, rather than Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar.
After about 15 minutes, Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar said to stop and thanked me again for making her feel “much better”.
She looked at her Musalmān husband again scornfully,
“Let the newspaper reader enjoy his news reading.”
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan only smiled at her comment.
This feet and ankle rubbing continued every other day or so for a couple of weeks.
I actually started to look forward to doing it in the evenings.
It was a kind of nice touching a Musalmān Beauty‘s skin, even if it was Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s.
During those first couple of weeks, I started to look at her a little differently.
I started to think about her body a bit more, in a sexual way.
At first, I felt a bit awkward, but as time went on, I kind of got used to it.
It was now getting warmer – the summer months were starting, and normally this meant a change of wardrobe for Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar.
In the summer, she would wear western style light ankle length cotton skirts with a blouse, instead of a sari.
So the third week after Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar first asked for a foot massage, she was lying on the sofa again, this time in a light cotton skirt and top.
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan was in his usual armchair, head buried in the newspaper.
We, at least Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar and I, were watching television.
I was waiting for Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar to ask me to do her feet, and I didn’t have to wait long.
“Durgesh darling, my Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love, please do my feet now,” she said, lying on the sofa with her head resting on a raised cushion at one end.
“Sure my darling Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar,” I replied, keen to get going.
This was the first time I’d be massaging her whilst she was wearing a skirt.
To my surprise, she raised her skirt up just above the tops of her knees, and for the first time I saw the lower part of her legs completely exposed.
“Do my legs up to my knees as well. If you don’t mind, please.” she said rather nonchalantly and closed her eyes as she rested.
“Sālī,” I smiled, “I’d cash it all with interest. Never forget.”
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar winked at me,
“Want me to undress for you entirely?”
I laughed and dismissed it.
They thought it doesn’t bear any gravity at all.
They dismissed it at its face value.
And none thought it vile.
It was being practiced everywhere openly to the extent that its opposition was criticized, instead of its execution.
Yet, I was kind of excited.
Now it may not seem much to be excited about, but I was not even a bit innocent when it came to girls and women, and seeing the amount of flesh in front of me which I’d never seen before in one go got me excited.
This time I started with the tops of the calves, under the knees and rubbed both front and back silkily.
I was enjoying the sensation, and so was Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar, I was sure.
At one point she said, “That’s very nice”, her eyes still closed.
I sneaked a look over at Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan’s direction at one point and saw him looking at me.
I never felt guilty at looking as if I was enjoying myself.
“That’s right Dūlhā Bhāī” Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan said to my surprise, “give your Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar a nice leg massage, Ammījān is still backward. Even if Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar and you have sex, it’d be nothing abnormal. It’s a personal matter of you both.” and then he stuck his head back into the newspaper.
I felt relieved.
Here I was getting a kick out of massaging Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s legs, being asked to do so by her and she was enjoying it, but Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan was telling me to keep up the good work.
It was GOOD WORK in his eyes.
Hey, things were great!
Later that evening whilst in bed before sleeping, I wanked myself off thinking about Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar naked.
And boy, did it feel good.
This time a couple of days passed and Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar didn’t ask me to massage her legs.
But I noticed her wearing some new skirts.
How did I know they were new one may ask? Well, since the last massage, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her rear and legs.
And I was sure the skirts she were wearing were new – the material seemed more sheer and thinner and a couple of times when she stood on the balcony with the bright sun behind her, I was sure I could see through the material Momentarily, and saw the shape of her upper legs and butt.
On the third evening after the last massage, I was sure she would ask me to massage her again, as she’d never gone more than a couple of days without now.
Whilst she was in the kitchen preparing dinner, I took the initiative and asked rather casually “would you like me to massage your legs tonight Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar?”
“Yes, that would be nice” she replied. “After dinner, when your Ever Inefficient Pakistani Musalmān Sālā‘s home” she added, not looking at me.
I went back to my room with a hard on.
After dinner we all settled into the living room in our usual positions – Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar lying on the sofa, Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan in his armchair reading the newspaper and me on the floor resting up against the sofa with my head a couple of inches from Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar ‘s feet.
“Please do my feet now Durgesh darling, my Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love,” said Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar after a few minutes.
As I turned around slowly, Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan piped up. “Make sure you do a good job Durgesh Dūlhā Bhāī.”
“Don’t worry, Sālé,” I replied, “Your wife is now my responsibility. Forget her and enjoy.”
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan, even if he understood the double meaning my smart talk consisted, did not pay any adverse attention to it.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar winked at me and smiled appreciating me very much.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar had lifted her skirt up just above her knees again.
Suddenly I had an idea.
“Would you like me to put some nice perfumed talc on them as I rub?” I said.
“That sounds a good idea,” said Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar smiling.
In double quick time, I marched to the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of talc.
I settled down on the floor next to the sofa and started rubbing Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s legs with a bit of talc on each.
The talc made it a very smooth and sensuous feeling sliding my hands up and down.
I would start at the top of the toes of the feet and then slide both hands up, one on each leg, up to her knees.
Then I’d slide my hands to the back of her calves and then down the back of them, feeling the lovely fleshed smooth skin there.
I continued this for a few minutes.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s eyes were now closed and her face and body completely relaxed.
She seemed to be enjoying it.
I glanced over at Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan, who was still engrossed in his paper.
After a Moment, I decided to see if I could go up a little above her knees without moving her skirt.
I appreciated Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Sālī was too smart to be argued by her opponents even.
She brought almost all of her brothers and cousins in ‘Ashvinātam’.
It was natural their houseladies would also accompany them.
And now she was using her extremely beautiful Bhābhījāns very adroitly.
I started at the toes again, and slowly slid my hand up the front of her legs, but this time, rather than stopping at the knees, I slowed as I reached them, and ever so gently slid my hands under the material of her skirt and up a little over the front part of her thighs.
I looked at her face as I did so and she gave no facial reaction.
Instead, she did open her legs a bit more.
I repeated this a few times, going up above the hemline of her skirt, but not too far – just about half way up her thighs.
I was cautious enough not go any further!
After about 15 minutes, Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“You can stop now Durgesh darling, my Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love. That was lovely. Thank you. You’ve really got a nice touch with your hands. You really do help your own Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar feel better.”
“Aw that’s ok Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar “I smiled gracefully. “I quite enjoy giving you a massage, and you’re not old, you are twenty-eight only – instead, I’m old.”
“Nonsense. You are thirty-two. Thank you Hindu Nandoī jī,” she replied. “You know, my back aches me sometimes as well and it would be really nice if you could give that a rub sometime as well. But it must be very uncomfortable for you sitting on the floor – you won’t be able to massage it properly.”
She looked over at Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan. “Ħabīb, how much are one of those folding massage tables – you know the ones we saw in the shop the other day?”
‘Massage table’ I thought as she spoke. ‘The ones we saw’.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar and Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan seemed to be taking this a bit seriously – they had already seen a proper massage table to buy.
I kept quiet, wondering quite what was going on.
“Oh they weren’t expensive,” replied Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan, “Do you want one?”
“Well if it’s alright with Durgesh darling, my Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love, as we’ll only get it if he’s happy at giving me a proper back and leg massage.” She looked over at me.
My mind raced and I said,
“Yes, of course, Why not? No problem at all.”
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan spoke up again –
“In case you’re wondering Durgesh Dūlhā Bhāī, we saw one the other day as your Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar thought you were so good at relieving her leg pains, that you could help with her back as well. You know she gets a bit stiff there sometimes, and you’ll be a great comfort to her.”
“Yea Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan, sure – no worries – it folds up does it?”
“Oh yes,” replied Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar. “It looked really good in the shop. They showed us how it works and it can fit under our bed as well when we don’t use it. ”
“Ok” I said. “Let’s order one.”
That night in bed, my mind was working overtime.
I was already getting worked up doing Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s legs, but now it looked like I would be touching much more of her.
A few days later, the massage table arrived.
It was quite neat, with two folding sections and supporting legs.
The top only had a thin cushion though and I wondered if it might be a bit hard to lie on for Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar.
Never mind, I thought, let’s see how it goes.
That evening after dinner, Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan and I set up the table in the living room in front of the sofa.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar, barefoot, but still wearing her blouse and a skirt lay herself face down on it.
Now I could see the shape of her body a bit better and actually walk around her.
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan settled down in his armchair and this time watched for a bit.
“Where would you like me to start Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar?” I said.
“Well” she said, “do my back first. You can massage me through my blouse right from my shoulders, and down to the base of my back. Then you can do my legs. I’ll let you pull up my skirt when you get to my legs though, as I’d like to feel your hands on them, rather than over my skirt.”
I slowly started circling my hands over Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s shoulders.
The fabric of her blouse was quite smooth, and I could feel her flesh ripple as my hands skillfully massaged her.
I looked over at Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan who by now had gone back to reading his paper.
I moved my hands slowly down to the middle of her back, in swirling circular motions as I continued to rub.
As Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar couldn’t see me, and Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan appeared engrossed in his paper I let my eyes wander down to her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān butt.
I couldn’t see its shape properly as the skirt lay flat, and didn’t show the line of her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān butt very well, but I got some idea.
It was quite large looking and the cheeks of her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān buttocks were still raised, giving a nice curvaceous look, rising from the base of her spine, down to the tops of her thighs.
I felt my Uncut Hindu Lund rise in my jeans.
I moved my hands down to the base of her spine.
I couldn’t resist just letting the tips of my fingers lightly touch the top of her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān butt cheeks.
She didn’t object, smiled instead.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar knew very well, she was not single now.
She was married to my Ever Inefficient Musalmān Sālā, Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan.
She couldn’t act so irresponsibly now as she could have if she were single.
Even then, if she was smiling that I wanted to fuck her, it meant Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar herself wanted to fuck me.
So many of communal Musalmīn were against me.
Yet, Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar, a grand Pakistani Musalmān Beauty, married my Ever Inefficient Musalmān Sālā, Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan.
It itself meant either she did not believe in Two Nation Theory, or even if she believed in it, she did not take it as seriously as its other believers were talking the same.
I didn’t want to push it too much this first time on the table, so I went backwards and started massaging from her shoulders again.
I moved to the top of the table so that I was standing with my Hindu crotch towards the top of Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s head.
Although I had a grand boner, she was face down with her forehead resting on her arms that were folded.
Therefore, she couldn’t see it.
I massaged the top of her shoulder and down to the center of her back as far as I could reach from this position.
A sudden thought flashed through me.
I was imagining that my Uncut Hindu Lund was out, rock hard, and I was shafting it back and forth in Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s mouth whilst I massaged her.
My Uncut Hindu Lund became even harder at the thought and I decided to move back to the side of the table.
I think I had a slight sweat on my forehead.
Although my cock was tight against my jeans, the height of the table meant my crotch was under the tabletop so it couldn’t easily be seen.
I moved my hands down her back to her spine again, and let my fingertips wander down to the top of her ample butt cheeks again, being careful not to go too far again.
I put a bit more pressure on the tips of my fingers this time and felt the ample cushioning there.
This time my Uncut Hindu Lund responded by stretching the front of my jeans.
I had to relieve myself.
Luckily, I’d forgotten the talc for her legs and said,
“Back in a minute Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar – have to get the talc”.
I marched to the bathroom.
Confidently, I locked the door behind me and undid my jeans.
My cock burst out.
I was proud of it.
I patted it assuring and grabbed the talc as I left the bathroom.
As I returned to the living room with the talc, Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar turned her head and smiled.
I too smiled in response.
She lay her head back down in position as before.
“Please do my legs now.”Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar said in a most seductive voice, smiling and teasing me, “And you can lift my skirt up to above my knees.”
She raised her legs a bit so her skirt would slide up.
I put the talc container down and slowly peeled back Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s skirt, exposing more and more of her lower legs.
I thought I’d try to lift it higher than ever before so it showed more of her thighs, so instead of stopping just above the knees, I finally folded the upper part of the skirt so that almost half her thighs were showing.
She didn’t say anything in objection.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar was an ultra modern Pakistani Musalmān young Beauty.
She wore bikini even mostly teasing me.
The only disadvantage for me now was that the folded skirt fabric now lay over her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān butt, in effect hiding it with a double layer of cloth.
Never mind, I thought, looking at her legs.
They were more exposed than ever I’d seen them, and that was the trade off.
As I massaged them from the ankles, I slowly moved up in circular movements.
Slowly, I slid my hands up, over the fleshy part of the back of her lower thighs and slid them under the edge of the skirt where it had been folded.
As I couldn’t see where her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān buttocks began due to the fold of her skirt, my fingers went a bit too far and I felt the lower part of her panties.
I realized my error, and quickly moved my hands back down, but not before, to my surprise she said out loud,
“That feels nice Durgesh darling, my Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love,”
I was a little stunned by her response.
I’d just felt up the lower part of her well formed ass cheeks albeit through her panties, but instead of telling me off, she actually seemed to enjoy it!
Årab was the poorest country those days, while India was a Soné kī Chiđiyā, the Golden Bird, the Wonder that was India.
So many of them were even Saħābiyātrzn themselves.
Pseudo Islam was thus actually a Trade Culture, a Business Culture, as the Western Culture itself was.
Islam never supported it.
They were fighting for the honor of the womankind as Hindus did.
It was the reason why Shershah Suri, Zahīruddīn Muħammad Babar and the entire Mughal Empire was so successful in India that even the traditional Hindu kingdoms supported them against so many traditional Hindu kingdoms but tyrant in their very nature.
My cock responded, forcing itself against the fly of my jeans.
I looked over at Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan, who was still engrossed in his newspaper.
Suddenly he looked up.
“Make sure you do a good job Dūlhā Bhāī. ” he said.
“Durgesh darling, my Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love, is doing fine,” piped up Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar. “Do the tops of my thighs a bit more,” she added.
“Dūlhā Bhāī, please Do as your Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar says.” said Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan.
“Okay.” I smiled.
I moved my hands over the base of the back of Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s thighs, above the knee and slid them slowly up, squeezing firmly as I did so.
As she seemed to want me to do the tops of her exquisite excellent smooth Pakistani Musalmān thighs, I slid my hands further up like before, under the fold of her skirt, and let my fingers feel the lower part of her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān butt cheeks through the fabric when I got to the edge of her panties.
When I squeezed the flesh of her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān butt cheeks where my fingers touched them through the panty fabric, I realized what an ample and large ass she must have.
I carried on like this rubbing up and down for the next few minutes or so, being careful not to go too high over her magnificent, exquisite, excellent, firm, round, young, perfect Pakistani Musalmān ass, but stopped, as before, when I felt the material of her panties.
Occasionally Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar would utter some appreciative word, I noticed mostly when my hand reached the lower part of her magnificent, exquisite, excellent, firm, round, young, perfect Pakistani Musalmān ass cheeks, which I was enjoying getting the feeling of immensely.
I started to feel more confident and wondered if I should dare going up further over the whole of her exquisite young Pakistani Musalmān butt cheeks and feeling each ass cheek fully.
I was feeling quite turned on at this stage and feeling like I needed to cum again.
I realized we’d probably be stopping soon, so decided to try my Bhogyantrānk as we got to near the end of the massage.
I began just above the back of her knees again and slowly started moving up, gently squeezing and rubbing the flesh of the back of her exquisite excellent smooth Pakistani Musalmān thighs.
I slipped my hand under Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar’s skirt and moved upwards.
Any Moment , I would reach the panty line.
As I felt it, rather than pull my hands back down, I let them wander up over the panty fabric and over the full mounds of her magnificent, exquisite, excellent, firm, round, young, perfect Pakistani Musalmān ass cheeks, one in each hand.
The feeling was ecstatic and I squeezed down hard enough to grab a full handful of thick, juicy flesh in my each Hindu palm.
I didn’t circle my hands around, so as not to seem too obvious, and then quickly moved both hands down again to the thighs.
“Ooh, that’s nice” said Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar before my hands completely left her magnificent, exquisite, excellent, firm, round, young, perfect Pakistani Musalmān ass cheeks.
I smiled triumphantly, though still not sure of what to make of the compliment.
But even then, I said in a rather confident tone,
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the massage Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar.”
“Thanks Hindu Nandoījī, my Hindu love.” she said, “I think that’s enough for today.”
The massages continued like this every few days for a couple of weeks.
I would let my hands wander occasionally up to Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar ‘s awesome butt cheeks for a ‘full’ handful whilst doing them, but only once or twice during our sessions, so as not to appear too obvious.
I’d often get so turned on that I’d have to make an excuse to go to the bathroom.
That seemed ok, and I was sure both Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar and Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan didn’t suspect what I was really doing, when I disappeared for a few minutes, or so I thought at the time.
Apart from the evening massages life carried on ‘as normal’ during each day.
It was only when the three of us were all alone in the evenings after Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan and I had set up the massage table, that there seemed a bit of an ‘electric air’ between us all.
It was hard to put my finger on it, but these sessions seemed to have some ‘energy’ to them and although to an outsider it may have looked a bit odd, after a while it seemed perfectly natural.
But we only ever did the massages when there were no other guests or family visiting anyway, and as far as I knew neither Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar nor Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan ever mentioned the massages to anyone else, and neither did I.
Then after another couple of weeks, the heat wave set in.
It became really hot.
We’d get this every year of course, in India, but that never made it any easier.
Although we didn’t have full air conditioning in that particular flat till then, we had a couple of those portable-cooling units.
They helped, but it wasn’t the same as having full air-con and it was still warm and humid in the flat, especially in the evenings.
It was a couple of days after the heat wave had set in and Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan and I had just finished setting up the massage table.
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan was wearing light cotton shorts and a half sleeved shirt, whilst I had shorts and a t-shirt on.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar came in wearing her usual skirt and blouse.
“Oh, it’s too hot in here” she said in a complaining tone. “And I’m all hot and sticky” she added.
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan looked up from reading his paper. “Why don’t you take a quick shower and then come in here. I’m sure Durgesh Dūlhā Bhāī won’t mind,” he said.
“I’d love that instead.” I beamed.
Ħabīb Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
Farīdah Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar plunged on me,
“You old Hindu scoundrel.” She kicked me on my chest in mock indignation, smiling brilliantly all the time.
I took her in my arms, hugging her,
“Sālī, want to get laid?”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam