Ved Nagar: 49Posted: March 16, 2013
Amīnah Zahīr watched Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand gravely.
“I appreciate your manly vigor, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.”
“Thank you, Umm Al Åālmīn.”
“You are watching my live in relationship with Durgesh yourself personally, yet you are accusing me so bravely.”
“Durgesh never approved of the Cuckold Your Musalmān husband movement of Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself. ” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled sophisticatedly, “Did he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Durgesh never approved of the ‘Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club’ movement of Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan too. ” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled sophisticatedly again, “Did he?”
Amīnah Zahīr laughed.
“Naåīmah Bājī, he thinks Durgesh is right and you are wrong.”
“That’s right,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled triumphantly, “Durgesh Jījū and Naåīmah Bājī love each other and they are husband and wife now, despite their thirty two years age difference. Naåīmah Bājī is furious to Musalmān terrorists, criminal/criminal minded Musalmīn. She wants them Cuckolds and humiliated immensely until they aren’t True Musalmīn. Durgesh Jījū hates such an attitude even to the Musalmān terrorists, criminal/criminal minded Musalmīn.”
“And you think Durgesh is right and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is wrong?” Amīnah Zahīr watched Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand scornfully.
“Is there anything wrong in it?” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled patronizingly.
Amīnah Zahīr blurted.
“You are right, Naåīmah Bājī. You are always right. Even Hindus are not with us.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled serenely.
“Control yourself, Amīnah Zahīr. Despite it, we are using Hindus successfully to establish our Dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. Aren’t we?”*
In previous years the exceptionally attractive ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān wives had tanned topless, however this year, Rukħsānah Aslam felt odd, being the only wife there, so she left the top on.
Imrān Waħīd and I were talking.
Imrān Waħīd was drinking beer in the boat’s cockpit, while I was giving him company with drinking juice.
We had been friends for over fifteen years.
Our wives had been college roommates and were also close friends.
I was especially watchful as my friend’s extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān wife undid her top to keep from getting tan lines on her back.
Since Rukħsānah Aslam was lying with her head toward the cockpit, I enjoyed talking to her because she had to raise her head slightly to answer and usually showed some cleavage.
On one occasion, when she raised up a little higher than necessary, I thought I saw a nipple.
I was already enjoying the trip.
It was early September.
We were making our annual sail from North Carolina to the Bahamas, where we would leave the boat for the winter.
Usually there were four of us, but this year, due to a work related issue, my ‘wife’, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was not able to come with us.
Rukħsānah Aslam felt a relief when she heard Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wasn’t accompanying us this time.
Despite the fact that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was her childhood friend, Rukħsānah Aslam always hated Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s ever-dominant nature.
Wasn’t it a fact that Rukħsānah Aslam was actually jealous of her miraculously utmost successful childhood friend, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan?*
Rukħsānah Aslam must be at least sincere to herself.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never hid the fact from anyone that she loved Durgesh madly despite I was thirty-two years older than Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Rukħsānah Aslam never wanted to be one of my women despite my immense success in almost every field.
Rukħsānah Aslam hated Hindus.
“If you keep on your friendship with that immensely dirty sex maniac Hindu multi zillionaire, Durgesh, Imrān Waħīd, you would soon find your every beautiful Musalmān houselady is being fucked by him, including me too.”
“Nonsense, Rukħsānah Aslam. Durgesh is the ever best friend we Musalmīn do have.” Imrān Waħīd was immensely angry with his wife, “Stop being jealous to your childhood friend Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. She offered Durgesh to you too, but it was you…”
“I hate that Hindu sex maniac.” Rukħsānah Aslam flared at her extremely damn fool Musalmān husband.
Imrān Waħīd smiled.
“Well, your sisters, your cousins, your Bhābhījāns and even your friends love my immensely successful Hindu friend, Durgesh. Don’t they?”
“They are crazy for his money.” Rukħsānah Aslam said scornfully.
“And why the hell shouldn’t they be?” Imrān Waħīd smiled teasing Rukħsānah Aslam.
“Sex should never be for money. It’s prostitution.”
“So you think all your sisters, your cousins, your Bhābhījāns and even your friends are prostitutes because they have sex with my friend, Durgesh, for his money?”
“Well, aren’t they, at least somewhat?”
“Imrān Waħīd, I am surprised.”
“Your sisters, your cousins, your Bhābhījāns and even your friends are not alone who enjoy sex with Durgesh. Most of the Musalmān Beauties I know enjoy sex with Durgesh.”
“And you are proud of it?”
“Come out of your ever harmful communalism, Rukħsānah Aslam.” Imrān Waħīd said scornfully, “It has always harmed us Musalmīn too much.”*
Amīnah Zahīr smiled at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
She was now on her knees.
I was fucking Amīnah Zahīr now from her glorious teen behind.
“I’m doubtful, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, whether we actually establish our Dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.”
“Nonsense, Durgesh has to be with us. The entire Vedic Monotheist Hindus are with us. Even the traditional Hindus are with us.”
“But the Brāhmañ Beauties are opposing us, the Savarñ Beauties are opposing us.” Amīnah Zahīr looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan gravely.
“The Brāhmañ Beauties want Bachhalyās and the Savarñ Beauties want Vedic Monotheist Hindus who were born Dalits, the downtroddens. That’s what Kr’ñvanto Vishvamāryam, Dharm Santānam, Dharm Sansthñpan for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only the Brāhmañ Beauties and Savarñ Beauties could be managed. A large number of them is already with us. They haven’t any problem with our Dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.”
Amīnah Zahīr looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan incredulously.
She changed the subject abruptly.
Looked at Pranav Yogendr Divyanand,
“So you say I knew Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?”
“Sure. Haven’t you?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I was quite friendly with Al Samīnah Al Qāsim? I talked her out of getting a divorce from her husband. Told her that if she’d sit tight and let her husband think she’d secured a divorce, then when Imām Muħammad Ħasan had found some other interest he could be made to pay a lot of money for a settlement?”
“That’s what I say.”
“Have you heard of something called defamation of character?”
“If you can’t prove what you are claiming that’s what you have to face.”
“I can prove it.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled disarmingly.
There was a silence for several seconds.
Amīnah Zahīr kept her teenager big yet heavy Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks thrusting into my nude Hindu lap.
My legendary Uncut Hindu Cock kept vanishing into Amīnah Zahīr’s teen tiny Musalmān Cunt to my balls, coming out until only its head remained inside and then again buried deepest unto my balls.
Amīnah Zahīr was enjoying our lovemaking enormously.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand continued to say,
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim came down to Ved Nagar on the pretext that her husband, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, was here. It was an early hour this morning. She stopped in here and had her gasoline tank filled. In the meantime when her gasoline tank was being filled, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim enjoyed sex with Jījū.”
“Why?” Amīnah Zahīr asked sarcastically, “Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt was tighter than even my teenager Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt? Or, you think Durgesh is fed up of me at my so early teen age?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Amīnah Zahīr patiently.
“Jījū never enjoyed you Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Beauties. He enjoys the Musalmān Beauties of his own age more.”
“Nonsense, you mean Durgesh is not enjoying lovemaking with me? Only I am enjoying his Uncut Hindu Cock in my teenager Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt?”
“If not, why the Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh movement is there?” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled sharply, “Al Samīnah Al Qāsim stopped in here and had her gasoline tank filled. Jījū filled her own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān tank too with his Hindu Vīrý. I don’t know what Al Samīnah Al Qāsim told you, or what you told her. Nevertheless I do know when Al Samīnah Al Qāsim started from here she was immensely satisfied sexually, physically and emotionally. Her bodyguard was with her. Ǻbdul Raħmān was not an ordinary bodyguard. He was a colonel in Her Excellency Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s personal secret service. Colonel Ǻbdul Raħmān was a Commando. He drove down the road about two miles, stopped her limousine in a parking place off by the side of the road and was murdered.”*
I had been with Pārvatī Pāŧhak and Shiv Shankar Sharmā for two days now.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak and Shiv Shankar Sharmā prepared for bed.
They compared notes, and agreed I needed their help..
“That little fucking Musalmān bitches,” Pārvatī Pāŧhak finally stammered, using a rare invective referring to my Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends. “They totally screw with his mind.”
“Well, it isn’t just his Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends. I mean, they are just being their usual self. Most guys would have been able to shrug it off after a while. But his Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends are his first and almost only love, so they have a disproportionate impact on Durgesh.”
“What do you mean only love? I mean, sure, they make love with Durgesh, but Durgesh is, what, 34, he must have had some other significant relationships.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, he and I have been friends for a long Time, and I don’t remember him really dating anyone else mostly other than needy Musalmān Beauties. For all I know, the Musalmān Beauties might literally be only women he ever slept with happily.”
“Hey Bhagvān, what an impression he must have of other women.”
“Well, it’s not as if he doesn’t know any better. I know he thinks the world of you. Moreover, he’s a smart guy. Nevertheless, yeah, emotionally, Durgesh is almost a cripple except with ever ravenous Musalmān Beauties because he almost never dated other women much. In addition, he built up this notion in his mind about how great it would be when he was with other women. I mean, I hate to psychoanalyze a friend, but there it is. Durgesh needs to be with some non Muslim women if he’s ever going to put Musalmān Beauties behind him and get on with his life, as he should. His Musalmān live in relationship partners, beloveds and women friends are blinding him constantly against other communities. It’s not good for a Mayor to be so partial to any particular society. Imām Muħammad Ħasan and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan both are using Durgesh for the benefits of their own community.”
Pārvatī Pāŧhak looked at Shiv Shankar Sharmā thoughtfully. “I like Durgesh a lot, and he’s both sweet and handsome, but I can’t see him ever finding a good relationship. It’s a catch-22. Until he comes out of his shell, other women will stay clear, and the ones who don’t probably have enough of their own problems to make things worse.”
“I wish we could do something,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā replied sadly, “I wish we could get someone to seduce him or something, but I just don’t know anyone who’d be willing to do that. It’s a lot to ask a friend.”
Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s words trailed off as Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s mind wrapped around an idea.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak seemed to look right through Shiv Shankar Sharmā.
“You want me to seduce him.” She said it ambiguously, part observation, part rebuke, part question, and part offer.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā paused. Just for a second, but it was long enough to confirm it.
“N-no,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā said unsteadily. “I don’t, not really…” But he didn’t know what to say next.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā just stared at his extremely beautiful brilliant smart Brāhmañ wife.
She struck Shiv Shankar Sharmā as incredibly beautiful at that moment.
She was relatively tall for a woman at 5’7″, and her body was both athletic and voluptuous.
She has long, lean legs, and a hard, flat stomach, but at the same Time, she has large, high breasts, and a rounded Pāŧhak Brāhmañ ass and full hips.
She was wearing a diaphanous nightgown, which seemed to call particular attention to her peaks and valleys.
As part of the pre-bed routine, she had brushed out her long, full, brown hair, and it flowed over her shoulder in shiny waves.
Her face is conventionally beautiful, not exotic, but rather the corn-fed, midwestern, beauty that you associate with the queen at the prom.
She was frowning at Shiv Shankar Sharmā, her beautiful green eyes sad and questioning.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā desperately wished he could go back in Time, and head off the conversation.
The thought of Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife with another man, even Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s best friend in need, gave him a feeling like a lead weight in the pit of Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s stomach.
And yet at the same Time, a part of him was saying that it was the right thing to do, that it was a sacrifice worth making.
After all they also had a duty toward their immensely neglected Brāhmañ community.
What Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu did when he observed the extremely beautiful infinite Musalmān Beauties were representing even the entire denominations in Islam on Durgesh’s nude Hindu male lap constantly?
Isn’t Imām Muħammad Ħasan doing the same thing?
Hasn’t he used his entire extremely beautiful Musalmān Houseladies even for it and still using?
The Musalmīn are successful because they are aware of what they should do and when.
The Brāhmañs are again losing to Musalmīn.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan is not a Brāhmañ, yet he has learned from Param Brahmarshi Bhagvān Bhr’gu.
Can’t he, Shiv Shankar Sharmā, himself too?
If Imām Muħammad Ħasan had Nafīsah Salmān, Shiv Shankar Sharmā too has Pārvatī Pāŧhak.
Can Shiv Shankar Sharmā too sacrifice Pārvatī Pāŧhak as Imām Muħammad Ħasan sacrificed Nafīsah Salmān?
Can Shiv Shankar Sharmā?
Can Shiv Shankar Sharmā?*
As Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s was wavering similarly, her eyes glistened, and then one tear rolled down each cheek.
She looked down at her wringing hands, and then she sniffed and returned her gaze to Shiv Shankar Sharmā.
“I can’t Shiv Shankar Sharmā, Shiv Shankar Sharmā, I just can’t.”
“I don’t want you to, Pārvatī Pāŧhak.” Shiv Shankar Sharmā said gravely, “Don’t worry. I married with you. I can’t ask you to sacrifice your Satītv and Pātivratý, even for our Brāhmañ community.”
“How do we know it would even help us?”
“It probably wouldn’t,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā seconded, realizing as they spoke about it that the thought of her with anyone else was just too painful.
“Durgesh needs something. He needs a change of scenery, a therapist, a non Muslim girlfriend, something. But you are right, there is nothing we can do about it except be his friends.”
“Friends,” Pārvatī Pāŧhak repeated softly. “Shiv Shankar Sharmā, are we… am I being selfish?”
“No, I don’t think anyone would call you that,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā replied.
“I mean, it does make sense in a crazy way. I think Durgesh really thinks Musalmān Beauties are his one chance at love. He needs some sort of reassurance that other women too find him attractive.”
“Do you find him attractive?” Shiv Shankar Sharmā asked.
“Yes, of course,” Pārvatī Pāŧhak answered, a bit too quickly for Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s taste.
Seeing the look in Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s eyes, she continued, “I mean, I’ve never, until tonight, thought of him in anything other than as a friend, but yeah, he is a good looking guy.”
“Maybe that’s all he needs to hear?”
“What if he needs more?”
“I don’t know,” Shiv Shankar Sharmā replied.
She paused and looked Shiv Shankar Sharmā in the eyes.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said with a firmness Shiv Shankar Sharmā didn’t expect.
“N-no, I…but…” Shiv Shankar Sharmā stammered in reply.
Pārvatī Pāŧhak approached Shiv Shankar Sharmā, reached out and squeezed Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s hand hard.
“You are a good Brāhmañ, a good friend. I love you.”
And then before Shiv Shankar Sharmā could say another word, Pārvatī Pāŧhak turned and walked out the door.
It took Shiv Shankar Sharmā a moment to process what they had agreed to, and suddenly Shiv Shankar Sharmā realized how ambiguous they’d left it, how open ended this plan was.
As Shiv Shankar Sharmā watched the door shut behind Pārvatī Pāŧhak, Shiv Shankar Sharmā was paralyzed.*
Shiv Shankar Sharmā realized that both Pārvatī Pāŧhak and Shiv Shankar Sharmā thought that it was the right thing in the abstract.
But Shiv Shankar Sharmā also realized that Pārvatī Pāŧhak was going along with it, for Shiv Shankar Sharmā, as much as for Durgesh.
But to his immense surprise, Shiv Shankar Sharmā now didn’t want her to.
Well, Shiv Shankar Sharmā did, and Shiv Shankar Sharmā didn’t.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā knew he should, but Shiv Shankar Sharmā couldn’t.
Choking back his guilt at failing his already immensely neglected Brāhmañ community, Shiv Shankar Sharmā wrapped his mind around the simple fact that he loved Pārvatī Pāŧhak and did not want to share her.
No matter how selfish that made him that was the way Shiv Shankar Sharmā felt.
The realization finally brought Shiv Shankar Sharmā out of his stupor.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā had to stop Pārvatī Pāŧhak.
Shiv Shankar Sharmā went out the door and down to the basement where I was staying and where Shiv Shankar Sharmā’s wife had gone to try to build up my confidence in Brāhmañ Beauties.
But as Shiv Shankar Sharmā reached the top of the basement steps Shiv Shankar Sharmā hesitated.
Instead of rushing down the stairs, Shiv Shankar Sharmā crept slowly to the bottom.
The basement was divided into three rooms — a laundry room, a small study, and guest bedroom.
At the bottom of the stairs, Shiv Shankar Sharmā could see the light on in my room.
With the door cracked open, Shiv Shankar Sharmā could hear us talking.
It wasn’t too late, at least.
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