KĦĀTŪN-E-JANNAT: 18Posted: April 16, 2012
Disconnecting the mobile, I pushed back my chair.
I got to my feet.
I stood keeping Kħadījah Muħammad on her knees and elbows.
“This thing’s goofy, ludicrous, absurd, Kħadījah Muħammad, Mérī Jān.” I pushed my extremely hardened Uncut Hindu Lund into Kħadījah Muħammad’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot to the hilt, “I don’t think the police are going to do anything.”
I loved her so much I didn’t love even my legal wife, Saiyadah Fātimah PhD.
I couldn’t help it.
Kħadījah Muħammad was hyper sexual herself as I was.
Saiyadah Fātimah PhD wanted least sex.
She loved and married me not for my sexual prowess.
Saiyadah Fātimah PhD loved and married me for my ‘exclusive unlimited humanity’ and my devotion to upraise the Muslimahs.
“You mean Muħammad Åbdullah…”
“No, no. He’ll certainly do his best. But his police…well, of course, they may find Shaguftah Rashīd in the voter’s register. Think back on that conversation. See if you can…”
“Wait a minute.” Kħadījah Muħammad abruptly said, “She was calling from Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club alright. I could hear the male voices talking of their Stavans, Ved and Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā. The female voices were referring to Allah Måshā Allah Subħān Allah every now and then. And there were the melodious sweet sounds of consummating sex.”
Kħadījah Muħammad went on.
“I could hear the sound of an orchestra too. It… wait a minute now. Don’t fuck me so excitedly. Just push your Uncut Hindu Lund into my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot to the hilt and stop keeping it fully embedded there. No pulling out. Not even a bit. Let me concentrate, please.”
“Sālī,” I pushed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot as she requested and kept it there fully embedded to the hilt, “you Musalmān Beauties require my Uncut Hindu Lund fully embedded into your Musalmān Choot so that you may concentrate?”
Kħadījah Muħammad winked at me.
“That’s right, any objection?”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan also concentrates in this way, doesn’t she?”
“She is crazy to imitate you.” I retorted, “You are her role model. Everything whatsoever you have done with me, she is also doing blindly.”
Kħadījah Muħammad smiled.
“Saiyadah Fātimah PhD too loves her, but…”
“Yes, I do understand, but…”
“Yes, yes, let me concentrate. I remember hearing the background music too, I think. Please fuck me.”
“Please fuck me wildly and let me concentrate.”
“Nonsense. If I fuck you wildly how can you concentrate?”
“You don’t know. You are not a woman. We women have different ways in so many things. Now fuck me you teaser.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t shout.”
“Wildly, Sālī, wildly.” I started fucking Kħadījah Muħammad wildly now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had smiled once in the similar situation.
“Kħadījah Muħammad Bājī uses you. As I do.”
“These are the times when we can make you to fuck us as wildly as we damn please.”
“Shame on you.”
“Well?” I asked Kħadījah Muħammad fucking her wildly after about fifteen minutes.
“You want me to concentrate, don’t you?”
“Yes, you are right. But don’t forget your promise, will you?”
“To fuck me wildly till…”
“Yes, yes, now come on.”
“I remember the background music now. It was playing ‘Khai ké paan Banāras wālā’.”
“Very good. Now we have only to find out where the hell in Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club this background music ‘Khai ké paan Banāras wālā’ has been played recently tonight. I love you, Kħadījah Muħammad. That’s great.”
“Don’t tell me verbally that you love me, put into action, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Your Uncut Hindu Lund is already visiting my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot. Isn’t it?”*
I smiled and started obliging Kħadījah Muħammad.
“I think I can find out.” She smiled at me thankfully.
She started to use her mobile.
After some connections and disconnections she winked at me.
“Got it, Durgesh darling.”
“I think we can get it.”
“What is it?”
“Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Ved Nagar has played ‘Khai ké paan Banāras wālā’. I connected to the club and asked if they knew a Shaguftah Rashīd. The hat check girl said she did. She said that Shaguftah Rashīd had been there this evening, but she had left early. She said she had a headache. I asked how we could find Shaguftah Rashīd’s address. She said she didn’t know. Yet, she thought one of the proprietors, Iqbāl Rashīd, knew where she lived.”
“Any relationship with Shaguftah Rashīd?” I asked enthusiastically.
“I asked the hat check girl, but she didn’t know. Iqbāl Rashīd is out tonight, and couldn’t be reached.”
“Damn. You told her it was important?”
“Sure. I told her it was a matter of life and death.”
I used my mobile to contact Commissioner of Police, Muħammad Åbdullah, again.
He was in the bathroom.
“Your name is flashing already on the screen. Want to fuck me now?”
“I thought he could have requested once more to you to fuck his wife, rather his Ammījān now.”
“Give the mobile to Muħammad Åbdullah, your Chief.”
“He is in the bathroom.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I can reach you as early as possible.”
I controlled myself.
However, she was an IPS even then, waiting for her first assignment as a police officer.
This time her voice became crisply businesslike.
“Okay. What is it?”
“I had a legal appointment with a Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah for one o’clock. I was waiting for her. In the meantime I received a call from some Shaguftah Rashīd I knew only by her name. I doubt even that name, Shaguftah Rashīd, maybe fictitious. Yet she rang up. She could barely talk over the mobile. She said she’d been poisoned. Someone had sent her poisoned candy. She certainly sounded about ready to pass out. Evidently the receiver either slipped from her hands and fell, or she keeled over while she was talking to me. Then the receiver was hung up before I could trace the call.”
“You haven’t fucked her ever?”
“You fucked me faithfully being immensely loyal to your stepson that immediately accepted me his Ammījān.”
“Not immediately, Sālī, after two years.” I said curtly.
“You don’t know where she is?”
I held Kħadījah Muħammad’s slim waist with both my hands and kept fucking her wildly as she wanted.
“I’m coming to that.” I said on the mobile, “Kħadījah Muħammad did some fast thinking and some good detective work. I won’t take time to tell you about it unnecessarily. Yet the result is that Kħadījah Muħammad got a lead to the Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club in Ved Nagar. A Shaguftah Rashīd is known there. She was there in the evening. But apparently the underlings don’t know her address. An Iqbāl Rashīd runs the place, but he’s out. That’s the story in a nutshell. What do you say, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl?”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t tell the police.” I said curtly, “I’m not the police. I’m only a citizen. I’ve informed the police. Commissioner of police as far as I’m concerned. If someone finds Shaguftah Rashīd’s body tomorrow morning, and…”
Her protest against I fucked her was behind her new phrase ‘Hold your Uncut Hindu Lund’ instead of ‘Hold your horses’.
She used it to register her complaint whenever she talked with me.
“With Kħadījah Muħammad.” I replied.
“I’ll be for you in about five minutes.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said, “Keep your Uncut Hindu Lund ready for me once more. Tell Kħadījah Muħammad you are going to fuck your daughter in law ACP Suraiyā Jamāl for the rest of the night. If you can be waiting down on the sidewalk, it’ll save that much time.”
“Think we can do anything by phone?”
“I doubt it, Prāñnāth. I’m grateful that you recommended your stepson Muħammad Ålī for the proprietorship of this Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club in Ved Nagar. Yet, it won’t take over a few minutes to get there. Be all ready to jump in when you hear the siren. I’ll cut her loose.”
Kħadījah Muħammad herself pushed her glorious glamorous gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī big firm round Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks into my Hindu loins to receive my Uncut Hindu Lund as deepest as possible.
I blasted my Hindu Vīrý.
Yet, she was still as young and as beautiful as she was when she first raped me.
Kħadījah Muħammad closed her eyes in extreme ecstasy.
She was receiving my Hindu Vīrý once more deepest inside her as she always greeted it.
Dressing myself hastily I said,
“Okay, Ummil Mominīn, hold the fort. I may call you in a little later.”
I had scolded Muħammad Ålī.
“Papa Jī, what do you think, she married me for myself?” Muħammad Ålī complained.
I was as if fallen from the seventh sky.
“It was her own game.” Muħammad Ålī charged his wife, “She was an IPS. She wasn’t a damn fool. Neither she was physically incompetent to protect herself from you when you raped her, if she didn’t want it.”
“You may be right there.” I murmured thoughtfully.*
It took a minute or two for the elevator to get up to the floor I was with Kħadījah Muħammad.
It was an extremely complex theory of Metaphysics it was built on.
We called it Eīshān Vigyān.
The night watchman dropped me to the street level.
I had less than a minute to wait at the curb before I heard the scream of a siren.
I jerked the door open and jumped in.
I hadn’t another option except to shift to the driving seat myself.
“Open my belt, undress me below my waist and fuck me if you really want me to help you in keeping alive your so called Shaguftah Rashīd.”
I hadn’t another option once again.
After, Muħammad Ålī told her that she wasn’t his wife anymore, his Ammījān instead, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl started to sleep with me openly, with her mother in law on my one side and she herself on my other side.
I understood very well why Muħammad Ålī couldn’t satisfy her.
She wasn’t made for the softies in sex like Muħammad Ålī.
Concentrating on driving, she bent forward in rukū’.
Even then her buttocks were more active in back and forth motion than my own waist was.
She had taken benefit of my interest in Shaguftah Rashīd.
The police Mercedes screamed through the streets nonstop.
“Hang on.” She warned me as the police Mercedes screamed in a turn.
I saw, she was enjoying both the excitement of my Uncut Hindu Lund tearing her Meccan Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and the excitement of tearing through traffic with siren screaming and motor roaring.
We dressed ourselves competently, debouched from the police Mercedes and marched across the sidewalk.
“You are an excellent driver.” I smiled.
“Thanks.” I squeezed her buttocks.
She squeezed my Uncut Hindu Lund to show her gratefulness and appreciation.
A big Paŧhān doorman, resplendent with uniform, saluted us.
The Paŧhān doorman dashed for a speaking tube built into the wall.
He whistled three times sharply.
“The hat-check girl, Suraiyā,” I said, “She knows something.”
She showed her identity card and stars to the hat check girl.
“Shaguftah Rashīd. Where can we find her?”
It showed it was alright.
“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know. Someone was asking over the phone awhile back.”
“You know her?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Does she work here?”
“She doesn’t need to. She is a major shareholder here. She is one of the proprietors, I must say.”
“Exclusively interested in only the Uncut Hindu Lund you are playing with.” The hat check girl smiled.
“One Man Woman?”
“I think so.”
“How many shares she holds here?”
“I wouldn’t know, ma’am, sorry.”
“A major shareholder ma’am.” The hat check girl also smiled.
“Well, they think it a good business.”
“Yes, I see that. Where are they?”
“This place is supposed to run without anyone in charge?”
“Ordinarily, one or the other of them is here. Tonight it just happens they both are out.”
“Who else would know? The cashier? Some of the waitresses?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t think so. I’ve made inquiries. I tell you who I think would.”
“Who is he?”
“Her younger brother.”
“Living with her?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Where do we find Iqbāl Rashīd?”
“I think the cashier has his address. Iqbāl Rashīd cashes a check here once in a while.”
We skirted the dance floor, and pushed past the crowded couples moving slowly to the rhythm of the music.
Now we were walking on to the cashier.
The cashier was in a cage between the dining room and the Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club.
“You know an Iqbāl Rashīd?”
She hesitated somewhat.
It was quite obvious that she was debating on a course of action.
The cashier controlled herself.
“Sorry for the delay in replying, ma’am. Yes, I know Dr. Iqbāl Rashīd.”
“Dr. Iqbāl Rashīd?”
“Where can we find him?”
“May I ask what he has done, ma’am?”
“You may not. It’s a police business. We seek informations, don’t give them to others.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know where he is at present.”
“Give me his address.”
“Bājīrāo Mastānī Apartments.”
“I see. Which one?”
“Just a minute.”
She searched in her computer.
“It’s on the second floor, Bājīrāo Mastānī Apartments, 256.”
“His phone number?”
“Not recorded here.”
“You know Iqbāl Rashīd when you see him?”
“He hasn’t been here tonight?”
“Would you have seen him if he had been?”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”
“I think we should try Iqbāl Rashīd at Bājīrāo Mastānī Apartments.”
Then she turned to the cashier once again.
“Who’s running this place?”
“Who is the major partner?”
“Imām Muħammad Ħasan. He isn’t here at present but he is expected to be here any minute.”
And why should she have?
“Mr. Muħammad Ålī has a little cabin somewhere.” The cashier volunteered, “He goes there for relaxation.”
“Relaxation, eh? Where is it?”
“I wouldn’t know. It’s up in Green Canyon somewhere.”
“When Imām Muħammad Ħasan comes in, let him call police headquarters and ask for Inspector Prabhāt Deharia. Have him tell Inspector Prabhāt Deharia all he knows about Shaguftah Rashīd and her younger brother, Iqbāl Rashīd. Don’t forget. I’ll call back in a little while. What number do I call?”
The cashier gave her the number duly written in a slip.
“It’s always a pleasure seeing an efficient police officer at work.”
“Thank you.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl also smiled, “We have to handle them in this way. Otherwise they’ll start swapping gossip with us. And we’ll get nowhere. People seem to forget we have emergency calls pouring in in a steady stream. We haven’t time to dillydally, or let other people take the lead. We have to keep them on the defensive to get anywhere ever.”
“I understand.” I smiled.
We squeezed past the dance floor.
“Not the police version exactly.” I smiled, “What’s it?”
“That’s not the truth at all.”
“These organizations are actually run by Pseudo Islamic countries. They have calculatingly adopted this humiliating name to Musalmīn for the club, to defame the Hindus and their horniest Musalmān beloveds.”
“I see. So, the police also know the conspiracy behind it?”
I smiled too.
“What do you think the Pseudo Islamic countries don’t know that the police are aware of their conspiracy?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why they are still retaining this name for the club?”
“India was the eighth most powerful country not many days before. Neither Saůūdī Årab nor Iran was anywhere in power in the suburb of India. China was second and USA was the number one. Yet, HVSI marched ahead aggressively and now HVSI is the most powerful organization on the entire globe.”