The Audacity: 13
Posted: November 2, 2013 Filed under: Ashvinatam, Muslimahs, Muslimat | Tags: Al Qamar Al Jalāl, Durgesh, Muħammad Åbbās Leave a commentThe Audacity
Chapter 13
Durgesh Al Qamar Al Jalāl
Muħammad Åbbās
This time, there was no hint of embarrassment – but my name hit Muħammad Åbbās like a thunderbolt, and Muħammad Åbbās recalled where, and when, Muħammad Åbbās had seen me before.
I had turned up on moving-in day – I was the one Al Qamar Al Jalāl had been talking to when Muħammad Åbbās was listening to the removal men discussing her.
And – his name was the one Al Qamar Al Jalāl had cried out when she was on the point of orgasm, imagining herself being well and truly fucked by me, instead of Muħammad Åbbās, her husband!
Muħammad Åbbās remembered how I had been gazing down her exquisite Musalmān cleavage, then admiring the sway of her sexy Musalmān bottom as she walked back to the house.
Muħammad Åbbās felt Muħammad Åbbās’s cut Musalmān nūnī begin to stiffen and Muħammad Åbbās was glad they were sitting at the table.
But Muħammad Åbbās tried to remain ‘cool’.
“Oh,” Muħammad Åbbās said. “I thought I recognised him. Wasn’t he the guy who came the day we moved in?”
Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s cheeks colored, but they always did that when one of ghem mentioned that day.
Muħammad Åbbās was sure, like him, she couldn’t think of it without calling to mind Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s mind-blowing sex on the couch in the den.
“Yes,” she replied. “That was Durgesh.”
“I didn’t know you used his services,” Muħammad Åbbās commented, in surprise.
She certainly hadn’t, before, in NY.
“Well, Muħammad Åbbās, I didn’t really mean to,” answered Al Qamar Al Jalāl, “but, what with all that had to be done in the house, after the move, Muħammad Åbbās, I thought I’d use him for a week or two, just until Muħammad Åbbās, I got into a routine, but Durgesh does such a good job – and he’s not expensive – well, Muħammad Åbbās, I thought I’d just keep him on – for a while, anyway.”
Her face was still a little pink, though, and her eyes were kind of downcast, as she spoke.
Muħammad Åbbās’s mouth was drying and Muħammad Åbbās’s hands shaking a little as Muħammad Åbbās thought this over.
This guy – Durgesh – would be calling to pick up, and deliver, during the day, while Muħammad Åbbās was in the city and the girls were at school.
It went without saying that, I would want to get into Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s panties – and Muħammad Åbbās had seen enough, that first time, to know I was a true blue hypersexual, at least where Muħammad Åbbās’s lovely extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife was concerned!
And how about Al Qamar Al Jalāl?
It couldn’t be just coincidence that she had called out his name that same afternoon – the afternoon she had learned of Muħammad Åbbās’s arousal at the thought of her…
“So – how often does Durgesh come?” Muħammad Åbbās asked.
Too late, Muħammad Åbbās realised what Muħammad Åbbās had said.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl picked up on it, right away, and giggled.
“Muħammad Åbbās, I don’t know him that well!” she laughed. “Would you like me to ask him, next time?”
“You know what I mean,” Muħammad Åbbās said, laughing in turn.
The atmosphere lightened.
“He picks up on a Monday morning, and delivers Thursday,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl.
“Delivers, huh?” Muħammad Åbbās sneered – and she leaned over the table and punched his arm.
Muħammad Åbbās grabbed her hand and pulled her over towards him.
Her blouse was gaping as she leant over the table, and Muħammad Åbbās leered in at the view of her appealing 34C bust.
“Like the view?” breathed Al Qamar Al Jalāl, latching on, right away, to what Muħammad Åbbās was doing.
“Sure,” Muħammad Åbbās said. “Who wouldn’t? I noticed ‘he’ did – that first day.”
“Who? Durgesh?” asked Al Qamar Al Jalāl, her dark eyes flashing, but contriving to look innocent and surprised, as well.
“Oh, yes,” Muħammad Åbbās murmured. “I saw him looking – so did the removal guys!”
Her eyes dropped to the tablecloth.
“Then he watched your sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt swaying, as you walked away from him,” Muħammad Åbbās continued, relentlessly. “And so did I! It gave me a hard-on. I bet Durgesh had one, too!”
“Oh, he did!” Her voice was so low, Muħammad Åbbās could hardly hear her.
“What?” Muħammad Åbbās said, not sure Muħammad Åbbās had heard right.
“He had a hard-on when he was looking down my blouse,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl. “What did you think I was looking at?”
Muħammad Åbbās said nothing.
Muħammad Åbbās’s heart was pounding furiously.
This was the first time, since that day, Muħammad Åbbās had got Al Qamar Al Jalāl to talk this way.
Muħammad Åbbās leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth.
Her lips mashed against hise and her tongue darted into Muħammad Åbbās’s mouth.
Muħammad Åbbās slipped a hand down the front of her blouse and cupped a bare tit in Muħammad Åbbās’s palm.
Muħammad Åbbās could feel her nipple, hard and erect.
She let out a little purr of pleasure.
They stood up and Muħammad Åbbās led her into the den, pulling her down onto the couch, beside him.
“Tell me about Durgesh – what’s been happening,” Muħammad Åbbās asked, pulling her hand across and placing it over his erection.
“It’s not really – very much at all,” she said, hesitantly. “Just – well – one or two little things.”
“Tell me,” Muħammad Åbbās insisted.
“Well,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl. “The first time Durgesh came back, I was so pleased with the job he’d done – MUĦAMMAD ÅBBĀS, well, Muħammad Åbbās, I gave him a kiss – nothing sexy, just a peck on the cheek, and a little hug.”
Muħammad Åbbās had seen Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s ‘little hugs’ before.
She didn’t mean anything by it, but she was very affectionate.
Muħammad Åbbās just knew I would have felt her extremely beautiful Musalmān tits pressed against my chest.
“Well, the next time,” she went on, “he seemed to expect the same again, so – well, it became a habit with us. He delivers– I pay him – then I give him a kiss.”
“Is it still on the cheek?” Muħammad Åbbās asked.
“Well, not always,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl. “Once, he turned his head by accident, and Al Qamar Al Jalāl and our lips met – so, now, Muħammad Åbbās, I suppose we usually kiss each other on the mouth – but only a short one!”
Muħammad Åbbās thought about this.
“So, is that all?” Muħammad Åbbās asked, convinced there was more.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl took a deep breath.
“Look, Muħammad Åbbās,” she said, “you’re not to get mad if I tell you. Nothing terrible’s happened, and there’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Muħammad Åbbās decided not to pick up on the latest ‘double-meaning’ and, his excitement growing at the thought of what she might have to tell him, promised not to ‘get mad’.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl went on.
“One day, Durgesh arrived very early Thursday morning. You and the girls had not long left, and Muħammad Åbbās, I had just got dressed after my shower, and Muħammad Åbbās, I was busy in the kitchen. Muħammad Åbbās, I asked Durgesh if he would mind going upstairs and putting what he brought away in the walk-in closet in our bedroom. He said ‘no problem’ and he went upstairs. He seemed to be quite a while and, while he was upstairs, Muħammad Åbbās, I heard the toilet flush.”
“Then he came down again and Muħammad Åbbās, I paid him and – well, he left.”
Muħammad Åbbās knew the ‘well’ covered the ‘thank you’ kiss, but Muħammad Åbbās let it alone, this time.
“So – what then?” Muħammad Åbbās asked.
“Well, when Muħammad Åbbās, I had finished in the kitchen, I went up to check the things had been put away OK, and then I remembered I hadn’t tidied the bathroom after my shower.”
She hesitated, and her grip on Muħammad Åbbās’s cut Musalmān nūnī tightened.
“Well?” Muħammad Åbbās asked.
“My panties had been moved,” Al Qamar Al Jalāl whispered. “Muħammad Åbbās, I had left them on the floor beside the shower cubicle and, now, they were lying beside the toilet bowl. And – and – then, Muħammad Åbbās, I checked the toilet bowl and there was a drop of – stuff – just under the rim.”
“Stuff?” Muħammad Åbbās breathed, but Muħammad Åbbās knew the answer before it came.
“Sperm – cum,” she breathed. “It had to be him – Muħammad Åbbās, I cleaned it the day before and we hadn’t used it since. Durgesh had picked up my panties and masturbated in our toilet!”
“Was there any cum on your panties?” Muħammad Åbbās asked, scarcely able to breathe.
“Muħammad Åbbās, I didn’t find any,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl, “but – oh, Muħammad Åbbās – it is hard to tell. You see, before I had my shower, I – well – I lay on the bed and – well, I was playing with myself, and my panties were covered in my – stuff!”
“So he wrapped his Uncut Hindu Lund in your juiced-up panties, and…?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, Muħammad Åbbās, it was so exciting! It made me feel so horny and turned on – Muħammad Åbbās, I wanted to chase the van and get Durgesh to come back and do it again, and let me watch! As it was, Muħammad Åbbās, I stripped off, and put the panties back on, and masturbated myself all over again!”
Muħammad Åbbās couldn’t speak.
Muħammad Åbbās pressed Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s hand round Muħammad Åbbās’s cut Musalmān nūnī as Muħammad Åbbās felt a huge orgasm building up, but she wrenched her hand away and leapt to her feet.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself!” she insisted. “Muħammad Åbbās, I was going to get us a drink – I’ve got some more to tell you!”
It took a huge effort of will to keep Muħammad Åbbās’s hands off his throbbing erection, but Muħammad Åbbās managed – just – and, gradually, Muħammad Åbbās calmed down.
In a couple of minutes, Al Qamar Al Jalāl returned with a large glass of wine for herself and a very good measure of Muħammad Åbbās’s favorite malt whisky.
Handing Muħammad Åbbās his glass, she sat in an easy chair, on the left of the couch.
“Muħammad Åbbās, I can’t think straight when you’re touching me,” she apologised, “and Muħammad Åbbās, I don’t want to get anything wrong. Is this OK with you, darling? Muħammad Åbbās, I mean, on moving day and all – you seemed – well, then I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and you didn’t like – well, me – with other men. Is it OK?”
“Yeah,” Muħammad Åbbās assured her, managing to follow what she was talking about, even though she was barely coherent, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Yes, it’s OK – it’s fine with me. And it makes me feel – even better – about you. Don’t even think about stopping now!”
She stood up and kissed Muħammad Åbbās.
Muħammad Åbbās put his hand up and caressed her gorgeous Musalmān bottom.
She squirmed away, laughing.
“Later!” she chuckled, and took a long swallow from her glass as she settled in her chair again.
“After that day, Muħammad Åbbās, I always got Durgesh to fetch and deliver the things from our bedroom, and Muħammad Åbbās, I always left something lying around that was still warm from me wearing it. It wasn’t always panties – sometimes it was a baby-doll nightie, and sometimes a brassiere – and, every time, he used the toilet and, every time, what I had left had been moved. He didn’t leave it beside the toilet, always, but it was always in a different place. And, nearly always, after he had gone, Muħammad Åbbās, I put it on again, and played with myself until I came.”
“It was just like a harmless sort of – game. Durgesh never said anything to me, and he never tried to – well, come on to me, or touch me, although, when we hugged, his Uncut Hindu Lund was always hard – pressing against me. But he’s really very sophisticated. He doesn’t talk much. Muħammad Åbbās, I asked him if he had a girlfriend, but he just shrugged –!”
So he hadn’t fucked Al Qamar Al Jalāl, Muħammad Åbbās immediately thought – and was shocked by the instinctive feeling of disappointment that washed over him.
Allah, disappointment?
Disappointment?
Why the hell?
Was that really what Muħammad Åbbās wanted?
Looking across at her, she had never looked so desirable.
In her early thirties, she was in full flower.
And she craving for that sixty four years old Hindu sex maniac.
Allah!
Allah!!
Her hair was jet-black, down to her shoulders.
Her eyes were almost ebony, dark, warm, unfathomable and, at the moment, glittering with arousal.
Her still extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body was strong and sexual – shoulders straight and fleshy, lifting her heavy firm Musalmān breasts with their wide aurolae and thimble-shaped brown nipples.
Her waist was well-defined and her hips spread widely – two succulent globes, jutting to the rear, which, when in motion, would move a stone statue to raging erection.
Her legs were sturdy, yet shapely, especially her graceful Musalmān thighs, and Muħammad Åbbās had never seen such a blatantly sexual pubic bush – black curls in wild profusion, framing a deep pink gash which always seemed to be gleaming with the juices of arousal.
Deep down, Muħammad Åbbās knew that the one drawback of fucking Al Qamar Al Jalāl himself was the inability to fully enjoy the wonderful vision of her being fucked, or fucking someone.
For that inestimable pleasure, a third party had to be present – a second Uncut Hindu Lund for Muħammad Åbbās to watch her writhe in ecstasy on – a second pair of hands to tease her extremely beautiful Musalmān tits or grip the cheeks of her sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass as her legs parted and her tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was plugged to its full capacity.
Muħammad Åbbās knew now, without a shadow of doubt, that Muħammad Åbbās wanted to see that – so, yes, if Durgesh hadn’t had her, Muħammad Åbbās was disappointed.
“But then, one day,” Al Qamar Al Jalāl went on, “Muħammad Åbbās, I didn’t have enough cash to pay him, so I had to write out a check. I sat at the desk in the foyer to write out the check, and I immediately realised that, with him standing up, he would get a view down my blouse. I was wearing a push-up bra, and I knew he was getting a real good look at the crevice between my extremely beautiful Musalmān tits. I wrote it real slow, and I could feel my juices running, knowing what he was doing. Then I sneaked a look across the desk and nearly blew my mind. He was wearing a pair of light tan slacks, and his Uncut Hindu Lund was sticking up like a rod – and there was a little dark patch spreading, just at the tip!”
“And it was so big, Muħammad Åbbās! Muħammad Åbbās, I couldn’t see how thick it was, but it must be at least eight inches long – maybe nine! Muħammad Åbbās, I got such a rush that I messed up the check, and had to write another one! Then I stood up and gave him the check – and the usual kiss and hug. Only, this time, he muttered something and put his hand on my ass and pulled me towards him, on to his Hindu hard-on. He’s so much taller than me, it was pushing against my navel! And he didn’t let my mouth go after a quick kiss, as he usually does. He kissed me again, and his hand slipped down between the cheeks of my ass, and Muħammad Åbbās, I had to wriggle free from him!”
“He stood back, then he muttered – ‘See you Monday, Al Qamar Al Jalāl” – and he rushed away. Muħammad Åbbās, I was breathless, as if I’d been running, and shaking, all over. But it was after that, I really started to see how much I could turn Durgesh on.”
Al Qamar Al Jalāl stopped again, and looked over at Muħammad Åbbās.
“You still OK with this?” she said.
Muħammad Åbbās nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the deep cleavage in her white satin half-cup bra. Muħammad Åbbās could just see the tops of her thrusting nipples.
“You like?” she smiled.
“Yes,” Muħammad Åbbās replied. “Just like Durgesh!” Muħammad Åbbās showed her the tent in his trousers, and she licked her lips, her smile growing a bit strained.
“Don’t you start teasing me,” she warned, “or Muħammad Åbbās, I might not get my story finished.”
She slid a hand between her thighs, rubbed gently, and gave a small shudder.
“Ohhhhhh,” she said. “I’ll need you to relieve that itch – later on.”
Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand and started her story again.
“The next time Durgesh called was a Monday, so Muħammad Åbbās, I didn’t have to pay him. But I left the bra I had been wearing on Thursday on our’s bed. It was that flimsy transparent cream lace one – just ideal for wrapping round his Uncut Hindu Lund!”
Al Qamar Al Jalāl gave a strange little laugh, and her eyes went up in her head as, involuntarily, her hand plunged between her thighs again, pulling her dress aside impatiently, and pressing against her mound, on top of the white satin panties. Her voice was shaky again, as she recalled the events of that morning.
“Muħammad Åbbās, I waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening to Durgesh moving about, putting the things away, until I heard the bathroom door close. Then I quickly climbed the stairs and waited outside the bathroom door. Muħammad Åbbās, I could hear him inside, Muħammad Åbbās – it was such a turn-on. Muħammad Åbbās, I could hear him breathing. It got quicker and quicker, then it became very harsh, then he sort of groaned and his breathing turned to shuddering gasps – then it all went quiet. Muħammad Åbbās, I ran back to the top of the stairs, shaking like a leaf, then I heard the toilet flush and I began to walk slowly along the landing.”
“And he came out, holding my bra! When he saw me, he went brick-red, and tried to hide it, but the straps wouldn’t stay hidden. Then he said – I found this on the floor, Al Qamar Al Jalāl, and I was bringing it down to you.’ I put out my hand for it, and he hesitated. I knew he was worried that there might be some cum on it, but he had to give it to me.”
“Muħammad Åbbās, I took it without saying anything, and opened it out, so we could both look at it. There were no stains on it. I said – I wonder how it got in there? I thought it was in the bedroom.’ Durgesh looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him up – and I was absolutely soaking! I was so turned on – but I felt so powerful! He had been masturbating with it around his Uncut Hindu Lund two minutes ago, and now I was holding it up in front of him! Muħammad Åbbās, I couldn’t help it – I rubbed it gently against my cheek. Then Muħammad Åbbās, I said to him – ‘Oh, well, thanks, anyway, Durgesh – it’s one of my favorite ones. Do you like it?’ But that was too much for him, and he disappeared into the bedroom to fetch the basket.”
“But my teasing backfired on me, because he was too embarrassed to stop for his kiss, that day. He couldn’t wait to escape, and he rushed downstairs, saying he was late!”
“Muħammad Åbbās, I spent the next three days plotting my next move.”
Chapter 14
————————————————-
1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The Audacity: 12
Posted: November 2, 2013 Filed under: Ashvinatam, Muslimahs, Muslimat | Tags: Al Qamar Al Jalāl, Al Taymūr Al Muħammad, Al Ůbaydah Al Shams, Ashvinatam, Ashvinatam sex, Ashvinatam Yugal, Behavioural Science, Durgesh, Feminism, 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 1 CommentThe Audacity
Chapter 12
Durgesh Al Ůbaydah Al Shams
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad
They were halfway through a two-day drive when they had their excellent adventure.
It was all Al Ůbaydah Al Shams’s doing, really.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad had expressed to her his general interest in voyeurism, and his specific desire to see her in action with me.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams knew from previous discussions how much it excited Al Taymūr Al Muħammad to watch her flirt with me.
But Al Ůbaydah Al Shams had never shown any inclination to act on this knowledge before.
It was just their little secret, fodder for their fantasy play and the occasional inside joke.
So Al Taymūr Al Muħammad really didn’t see it coming.
They had pulled off the highway and into a motel on the outskirts of a small city along their route.
It had been a full day’s worth of driving in the heat and traffic of midsummer.
The plan was just to get some rest and get back on the road early the next day, but since they had made better time than they had expected that day it was only late afternoon when they checked in and hit their room.
“Maybe we should get a drink after dinner,” Al Ůbaydah Al Shams suggested.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad gave a non-committal response.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad was tired after driving all day but Al Ůbaydah Al Shams pressed him a bit, saying it would be better than channel-surfing until they dozed off, and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad conceded that she was probably right.
They decided to take a quick shower and get going.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams was a naturally good-looking woman — exceptionally so, although Al Taymūr Al Muħammad admit that Al Taymūr Al Muħammad was biased — and Al Ůbaydah Al Shams had an easy sense of style that allowed her to look good in many things.
She could get ready quickly, toss something on, and make it terrific.
So she was soon ready to roll and looking great, as usual.
But Al Taymūr Al Muħammad was a little surprised, and pleased!, to see that Al Ůbaydah Al Shams had chosen a rather revealing bright-print halter top and a fairly short mini-skirt.
She was braless and with her beautiful Musalmān breasts she always looked especially terrific whenever she went without.
“Wow! You planning on showing off for anyone in particular tonight?” Al Taymūr Al Muħammad asked.
“Just for you, honey,” she said, and they both shared a gentle laugh at her reference to his particular interest.
They had gotten sound advice from the front desk clerk.
Dinner was good, and the hotel bar down the road had a pretty capable band, so it was filling up pretty quickly as the evening got underway.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad got settled into two seats at the bar and shortly after their drinks arrived Al Taymūr Al Muħammad pushed back and excused hisself to hit the facilities.
“Don’t be too long,” she said.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad shot her a look of sudden interest.
“Think you could behave yourself?”
Her response was a playful:
“I’ll try …” and they shared a parting grin.
It actually did take Al Taymūr Al Muħammad a little while to locate the restrooms and then Al Taymūr Al Muħammad got detained trying to get past the television that was showing a ballgame.
As Al Taymūr Al Muħammad finally made his way back Al Taymūr Al Muħammad noticed that Al Ůbaydah Al Shams was engaged in conversation with me who had taken the open seat next to her.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad just paused to watch the scene.
She was animated and seemed to be interested in what I was saying, and she was just so beautiful and fascinating to watch as she talked and laughed and occasionally touched me on the forearm.
When Al Ůbaydah Al Shams lifted her glass and took a sip Al Taymūr Al Muħammad noticed my eyes glide up and down her body.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad found himself excited to see me taking the opportunity to check out his nice-looking extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad decided to take a few more moments and just watch what happened, finding an open spot and ordering a drink from a passing waitress.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad was not close enough to hear us but Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could see us quite clearly from his vantage point.
We continued our pleasant conversation, and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad noticed that she turned her body to face me more directly.
When she did that she crossed her legs and I dropped my gaze to check her out once again.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams continued to reach out to touch me lightly on occasion to emphasize a point, but now when she did so she would sometimes reach out to gently squeeze my arm.
I was a good-looking man, tall and well-built in a nice summer-weight suit, and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad saw that on one occasion when she touched my shoulder she then trailed her fingers down my bicep and rested them ever so briefly there, giving me an almost imperceptible squeeze before dropping her hand back down to her own knee.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad saw us glance into each other’s eyes for a moment, but Al Taymūr Al Muħammad couldn’t be sure.
By this point his imagination was beginning to heat up, just as his pulse was rising.
I then clearly looked down and commented on her ring, because Al Ůbaydah Al Shams held up her left hand.
I took it and examined her wedding ring, holding onto her hand for several moments.
I pretended to inspect her ring.
Something about that sent a jolt through Al Taymūr Al Muħammad.
We exchanged a comment and then glanced around, apparently looking to see where Al Taymūr Al Muħammad had disappeared off to.
I then took a sip of my juice while Al Ůbaydah Al Shams continued to check out the crowd and then spotted Al Taymūr Al Muħammad.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams smiled and raised her eyebrows.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad grinned back at her and raised his glass in salute.
She then shot Al Taymūr Al Muħammad a mock “aren’t you naughty!” look over her own glass, and they both just grinned at each other for a moment, enjoying their strong bond across the crowded room.
I had said something to her, and she turned and leaned in close to hear me.
When she did Al Taymūr Al Muħammad noticed that I leaned over and my gaze darted down to look down her halter top.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad suspected that it was not coincidental that Al Ůbaydah Al Shams just then had to reach back with one hand and rub the back of her neck, propping the other hand on her opposite hip.
This caused her to arch her back, and she must have commented about the long drive because Al Ůbaydah Al Shams closed her eyes and turned her head just then and rubbed the back of her neck and along her shoulders, taking her time and giving her neck a good long squeeze.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could see quite clearly that I took this opportunity to give her a long, hard look.
I clearly liked what I saw, from the way my eyes shone and my tongue ran across my lips as I shifted in my seat.
Her full, braless Musalmān tits strained against the thin fabric of her top.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams could be incredibly sensual, and I was now awash in her sexual vibe.
And so was I, of course — Al Taymūr Al Muħammad had gathered by now that this little show was for his benefit, and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could feel his cut Musalmān nūnī stiffening in his jeans.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad was pretty sure that my Uncut Hindu Lund was, too.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams finished up her neck massage by bending her head down and leaning forward, so that when she opened her eyes she must have been looking right into the crotch of my suit trousers.
I let out a slight groan as she moistened her lips and looked up into my eyes.
A hint of a smile played across her gorgeous features.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could feel her rising temperature and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad just knew that Al Ůbaydah Al Shams had seen something that interested her.
She must have asked me a question because I then talked for a while as she took a drink and then considered me while I spoke.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could see her eyes running over my handsome Hindu face.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad knew that Al Ůbaydah Al Shams was thinking about me.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams had me talking, probably about myself, and she only occasionally spoke, following up with another question or comment.
As I rambled on she ran one hand through her hair, brushed her fingertips lightly over her own forearm several times, and then smoothed and straightened the hem of her skirt — but instead of pulling it down, Al Taymūr Al Muħammad noticed, she actually hiked it up a little!
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams gently rubbed her neck again and then let her fingertips trail down along the edge of her neckline, tracing a fingernail along the insides of her lovely Musalmān breasts.
Her skin tone was a beautiful light olive, and I could just see the lighter shade of her tan line along the enticing swell of her breast as she toyed with her neckline.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad just grinned at what a hot little show off Al Ůbaydah Al Shams could be.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams certainly knew just how to get me going!
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams had my full attention and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad continued to watch us intently.
What a husband.
He loved to watch his wife with me.
It excited him, pleasured him, instead of making him to realize his immense incompetence and making him angry.
His Bhogyantrānk was zero now, perhaps.*
We shared a laugh and she reached out once again to touch my forearm lightly, this time dropping her hand after a moment or two and letting it fall onto my knee where I had propped one foot up on the base of her barstool.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams has a wonderful touch.
Her fingertips traced the crease of the thin fabric of my pants for an inch or two up along my thigh and then slowly back down to my knee.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could only imagine just how erotic that light touch must have been for me.
It was almost imperceptible visually, but Al Taymūr Al Muħammad knew his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife and I could almost feel it myself right across the room.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad heard a slight groan of pleasure and then realized that it was his own!
She apparently commented on the quality of my suit, because she then reached out and felt the fabric of my lapel, caressing first along one edge and then the other.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad knew I could feel her fingers on my chest.
I glanced up at her and our eyes met with an undeniable spark of acknowledgement of our mutual enjoyment.
She then must have complimented me on my tie, because she took it between her fingers and admired it, then ran her fingertips along the edge and down along its full length, sliding her fingers slowly right down to the end.
As this happened all three of us — but only the three of us in that room — knew right at one moment that in a second or two, when her fingers reached the end of my tie where it dangled against the crotch of my trousers, Al Ůbaydah Al Shams would be unobtrusively caressing the bulge of my Uncut Hindu Lund.
Her slender Musalmān fingers slid down inexorably, but tantalizingly slowly.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad heard myself mutter “ohhh, Eīshān!” as she finally ran the backs of her fingers across the taut fabric covering my straining Uncut Hindu Lund.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams slowly traced down the one side, then ran her other hand up along the other edge of my tie, brushing her fingertips back up over the now-visible outline of my stiff Uncut Hindu Lund.
She then smoothed it out and managed to caress me yet a third time!
And just for good measure she trailed her fingertips along the inside of my thigh as she brought her hand back.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad saw her look up, directly into my eyes, and say very slowly and clearly — no doubt for Al Taymūr Al Muħammad’s benefit — “very nice, great, no doubt.”
I looked a little glassy-eyed.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams had a mischievous little grin, and we both took a long drink.
I of course, that of juice, however.
When I put my glass back down I must have asked her to dance, because we both rose and began to make our way to the dance floor.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams glanced around and then looked over at Al Taymūr Al Muħammad.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad smiled and gave her a big nod, and she flashed a sort of “wow!” look.
All three of us were buzzing on excitement by that point.
I looked back and grabbed her hand.
We found a spot on the crowded dance floor.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad had to reposition himself slightly and had a little difficulty keeping us in sight, but we seemed to be enjoying ourselves.
We danced two numbers and then the band struck up a slow, soulful song.
Some of the dancers cleared away at that point and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad got a better view.
We were each a bit hesitant, but Al Ůbaydah Al Shams took the initiative and suggested that we stay and dance to this one as well.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad moved into position to get a nice look as we moved in close and reached out for each other.
We began to sway gently, in time to the sensual music.
I held her close with one hand on the heaviness of her back and the other holding her hand up close to her shoulder.
As we moved slowly, in time to the music, our bodies were pressing close together.
Al Ůbaydah Al Shams put her head on my shoulder, and I nuzzled her hair.
His own cut Musalmān nūnī was rock-hard now as Al Taymūr Al Muħammad watched me slide my hand lower along her back, dropping down to caress Al Ůbaydah Al Shams’s fine Musalmān ass.
It was all Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could do to keep from stroking himself as Al Taymūr Al Muħammad noticed me moving my other hand to gently stroke the side of his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife’s breast.
His heart was racing and his breathing shallow and rapid while Al Taymūr Al Muħammad watched me fondle his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife on the dance floor — and saw her smile and push her hips forward to grind on my obvious Hindu bulge!
His head was buzzing and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad saw her eyes open just a little to watch me as Al Taymūr Al Muħammad approached us on the floor.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad surreptitiously ran his fingertips over her ass, just below mine, as Al Taymūr Al Muħammad passed right behind her and continued on across the floor.
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad unobtrusively placed this note by her drink and strolled out of the bar and over to the elevators: “You are incredible! Give me ten minutes, then bring him on up if you want…”
That was just enough time to get upstairs and set up the video camera trained on the bed, then slip back down to the bar.
Once Al Ůbaydah Al Shams saw me again Al Ůbaydah Al Shams leaned over and whispered to me, and Al Taymūr Al Muħammad saw me raise my eyebrows, grin broadly and nod my head affirmatively.
With that she reached out and took my hand and then led me over to the elevators, glancing back once in Al Taymūr Al Muħammad’s direction with her wonderfully wicked grin…
Al Taymūr Al Muħammad was surprised to find out that I fucked Al Taymūr Al Muħammad’s wife, Al Ůbaydah Al Shams, throughout the whole one week, nonstop, in countless incredible sex positions, Al Taymūr Al Muħammad could never even imagine.
He had the entire movie of us, to watch at his leisure and learn how to fuck his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife, Al Ůbaydah Al Shams, actually, to satisfy her sexually entirely.*
In the following days and weeks, Muħammad Åbbās remained very confused about why Muħammad Åbbās should feel like this, and more than a little guilty.
He suspected it was because he was as ardent a Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān, as his wife, Al Qamar Al Jalāl, was.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl had already advised Muħammad Åbbās so many times that it was his lack of Īmān actually that he was losing interest in sex.
Muħammad Åbbās had laughed.
“Nonsense, you mean Hindus have more Īmān than Musalmīn so that the Hindus have more interest in sex than the Musalmīn have?”
To Muħammad Åbbās’s immense surprise, Al Qamar Al Jalāl did not feel insulted.
Instead, she smiled at her husband patronizingly.
“Why not?”
Muħammad Åbbās was startled.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not talking of Pseudo Islam, I’m talking of the True Islam as it was preached originally by Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålahi wa sallam himself.”
Muħammad Åbbās suddenly realized Al Qamar Al Jalāl was taking him to discuss her favorite subject the present day Islam, being practiced by Pseudo Musalmīn was not True Islam actually.
It was Pseudo Islam instead.
Muħammad Åbbās could never refute her ideology.
He had argued with Al Qamar Al Jalāl at first, but soon he realized Al Qamar Al Jalāl had studied about it more thoroughly than he himself had.
Muħammad Åbbās escaped from his potential defeat, naturally.
For her part, Al Qamar Al Jalāl didn’t seem to want to go into that territory again, and, even though Muħammad Åbbās was tempted, during Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s – more frequent, now – bouts of lovemaking, Muħammad Åbbās managed to restrain himself.
About three months later, they were shopping in the local mall, with the girls.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and they were taking a break for an ice-cream for the girls, and coffee for them.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl was queuing at the counter, with Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s tray, and they were sitting at a table.
Muħammad Åbbās noticed a sophisticated Hindu guy, at another table, watching Al Qamar Al Jalāl, with a peculiar intensity in his gaze.*
As though she felt his stare, Al Qamar Al Jalāl turned and met his eye.
She smiled, and mouthed ‘Hi!’ at him, then her eyes flickered over to Muħammad Åbbās, and Muħammad Åbbās saw a pink tinge color on her cheekbones.
The guy, too, looked a little embarrassed as he smiled back, and Muħammad Åbbās thought his face was a bit familiar, though Muħammad Åbbās couldn’t place him.
When Al Qamar Al Jalāl returned, she didn’t mention the encounter, but Muħammad Åbbās noticed her eyes drifting over, more than once, to where the guy sat, on his own.
Something told Muħammad Åbbās that there was more to this than met the eye, but Muħammad Åbbās didn’t say anything.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s manner seemed a little forced, then she relaxed and, when Muħammad Åbbās looked again, the guy had gone.
During the course of the afternoon, this strange episode remained at the back of Muħammad Åbbās’s mind.
Muħammad Åbbās kept worrying at it, and trying to remember where Muħammad Åbbās had seen the guy, before.
After the girls had gone to bed, Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās were having a little late supper, on Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s own.
They weren’t saying a lot and Muħammad Åbbās was thinking more and more about the incident in the afternoon.
Muħammad Åbbās decided to find out more.
“Who was the guy at the ice-cream parlor?” Muħammad Åbbās asked, suddenly, as though it had just come to his mind.
“Which guy?” came the automatic response.
Like all women, Al Qamar Al Jalāl always answered a question with another question.
“He was sitting at a table while you were at the paydesk – you said ‘Hi’ to him.”
“Oh – that was just Durgesh – the Mayor of Ved Nagar,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl.
Chapter 13
———————————————-
1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The Audacity: 11
Posted: November 2, 2013 Filed under: Ashvinatam, Muslimahs, Muslimat | Tags: Al Qamar Al Jalāl, Ashvinatam, Ashvinatam sex, Ashvinatam Yugal, Behavioural Science, Durgesh, Feminism, life sciences, Muslim Feminism, Muslim girls love a Hindu, Muslim girls marry a Hindu, Muslim women love a Hindu, Muslim women marry a Hindu, Muħammad Åbbās, society, Sophisticated Positive adult sex Leave a commentThe Audacity
Chapter 11
The Horror
The move to Philadelphia had gone well.
All the furniture was in, and in place.
The new house was going to be a wonderful place to bring up the family – a large eight-roomed colonial with roughly two acres of land which, while not secluded, offered a lot of privacy.
It had an oversized two-car garage attached, with a sundeck on top, which was accessed through a doorway off the master bedroom, which had its own bathroom.
On the opposite side of the bedroom was a large walk-in closet that served as the main closet for Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās.
The boys were already around next-door, being looked after by one of Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s friendly new neighbors, who had two kids of a similar age.
There had been a stream of callers all day – some just Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s new neighbors, calling to get acquainted, and one or two tradesmen, who had spotted the removal van, and were getting their feet in the door, ahead of the opposition.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl was dealing with one of them, now – a tall young dark guy, whose laundry truck was parked just a few yards away from the high-sided removal van.
The three moving guys were straightening out the back of their vehicle before they set off back on the long journey to New York state, and Muħammad Åbbās was coming round the side of the van, to say ‘goodbye’ and to give them each a few bucks, as extra thanks for their efforts.
They had done a real good job, and built up a great rapport with Al Qamar Al Jalāl, Muħammad Åbbās’s wife, and Bilqīs and Lubnah, Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s young daughters.
They were talking as they moved things around and Muħammad Åbbās was just reaching the rear of the vehicle when Muħammad Åbbās heard Pramod, the oldest one, say – “She’s got the peachiest Musalmān ass I’ve seen all year recently. I tell you, when I get home tonight, Nīlofar Shamsuddīn’s gonna get some unscheduled fucking, but it’s gonna be Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s extremely beautiful Musalmān tits and sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt I’ll be thinking about!”
Muħammad Åbbās’s pace slowed, and Muħammad Åbbās stopped.
He turned round.
It would just be embarrassing if Muħammad Åbbās walked in on them, now, with them discussing Muħammad Åbbās’s wife, in that way.
Anyway, Muħammad Åbbās was having second thoughts about tipping them, now – talking about Muħammad Åbbās’s wife like that!
“She’s really something else,” Pramod was going on. “I guess she’s Saåūdī Årab, or something like that – really hot-blooded. That long black hair and dark smouldering eyes – and what a body!”
“You know how I’d like to do her?” That was Shankar – a tall, rangy 30-year-old with long blonde straggly hair.
Muħammad Åbbās stopped again, a strange excitement building up in him.
His mouth was drying, and his heart was beating irregularly.
“Up against a wall,” Shankar went on. “You hands round these Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass-cheeks, her legs clamped round your Hindu waist, and your Uncut Hindu Lund sunk real deep inside her until she squealed for mercy!”
“Nah,” responded Pramod. “I’d want her Bent over, so I could get my hands round those big luscious extremely beautiful Musalmān tits while I shaft her from behind. She’d be even better than that one in Wichita!”
“Wichita?” The question came from Vikram, the youngest one, a thin wiry guy barely out of his teens. Pramod laughed.
“Ah, that was before yAl Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s time, Lou. A big redhead – about thirty-five or so. We was just leaving and she came into the van to thank us. Shankar chanced his luck and asked for a kiss and she said OK. Well, she really gave him a big one and while she was kissing him, Narottam felt up her Musalmān ass and she didn’t object and – well, one thing led to another and she ended up naked, gettin’ screwed by all four of us, on the big tarpaulin. Man, that was some job – and she gave us each twenty bucks before we went!”
“Wow!” exclaimed Vikram. “D’ya reckon Al Qamar Al Jalāl would…?”
“Nah!” laughed Pramod. “She ain’t the type. She doesn’t even know how sexy she is. She’s an all-Saåūdī Årab apple-pie wife and Ammī – husband gives her a regulation fuck every Saturday night or Sunday morning and, unless some other guy gets to her, to remind her what it’s all about, she’ll just join the PTA and the country club – and just get old and forget!”
“What a tragedy,” said Shankar, despondently. “Look at her now, with that laundry guy. He can’t keep his eyes off her Musalmān cleavage – and she’s got no idea! I can see his Hindu boner from here!”
“Naw, you can’t!” laughed Pramod.
“Well, no,” confessed Shankar, “but five’ll get you ten he’s got one!”
“Yeah,” replied Pramod. “Reckon you’re right. Anyways, time we stopped dreamin’ and got out of here. Any sign of the husband yet? I think we should be good for fifty each, just for not screwing his wife!”
Muħammad Åbbās heard the sounds of stuff being moved around and hecrept back along the side of the truck, to the front.
Muħammad Åbbās looked up the driveway.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl was still talking to the laundry man.
She was looking up at him, and laughing, her hand resting on his bare arm.
He was smiling down at her, and Muħammad Åbbās was certain his eyes were taking in the deep valley between her excellent Musalmān breasts, revealed by the front of her blouse falling forward as she leaned forward to touch his arm.
Then she squeezed his arm, turned and walked back to the house.
He, and MUĦAMMAD ÅBBĀS, watched as her shapely firm sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt swayed from side to side in the loose shorts she wore.
Her legs were bare, slim and nicely tanned.
After more than ten years of marriage, having seen your wife through two pregnancies, and all the other ups and downs of domestic life, you do begin to lose the ability to look objectively at your sexual partner and, watching Al Qamar Al Jalāl, now, along with the laundry guy – and, probably, the moving guys, as well – I realised that, by any standards, she was one very sexy woman.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl is of Saåūdī Årab, Pramod was pretty well right on the sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt.
Muħammad Åbbās had taken her cherry two years before they got married and they had about four years of incredible sex before her first pregnancy.
Well, Muħammad Åbbās didn’t actually ‘take her cherry’ – she said she had lost it through cycling – but she insisted Muħammad Åbbās was the first guy she let fuck her, and Muħammad Åbbās had no reason to disbelieve her.
But, until she got pregnant, she really made up for lost time and, in those four years, they did everything sexual that a man and a woman can do to each other – almost.
Every part of Muħammad Åbbās explored every part of Al Qamar Al Jalāl – and vice versa – apart from one.
After a couple of years, Muħammad Åbbās began to wonder what it would be like to slide his rod between Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s gorgeous Musalmān ass cheeks into her tight anal orifice, but, despite her Saåūdī Årab origins, she steadfastly refused, even at the absolute height of passion.
This was a disappointment to Muħammad Åbbās, but her tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, surrounded with its forest of black hair, was always available to Muħammad Åbbās’s fingers, mouth or cut Musalmān nūnī , and she never failed to bring Muħammad Åbbās to a mind-blowing climax, so Muħammad Åbbās was more than content.
She was also an absolute artist with her luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth and quickly picked up the art of giving Muħammad Åbbās the most incredible blowjobs until Muħammad Åbbās was nearly cross-eyed with ecstasy!
She had two pregnancies in quick succession and, inevitably, Muħammad Åbbās supposed, they began to have other priorities.
Her still extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body quickly regained its shape – with the added bonus that her excellent Musalmān breasts became even larger, her nipples darkening and lengthening, but Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s sexual encounters became less frequent.
Muħammad Åbbās was working very hard and Al Qamar Al Jalāl had two young daughters to cope with all day and – as Pramod had correctly guessed – sex now took place only at weekends and, these days, Muħammad Åbbās realised as Muħammad Åbbās thought about it, not even every weekend …
Muħammad Åbbās followed Al Qamar Al Jalāl towards the house.
On the way, Muħammad Åbbās passed the laundry man, and they nodded to each other.
Muħammad Åbbās noticed he looked slightly embarrassed and guessed he realised Muħammad Åbbās had seen him watching Muħammad Åbbās’s wife’s great superb Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl was in the kitchen.
Muħammad Åbbās slid an arm round her waist and kissed her cheek.
Muħammad Åbbās realised Muħammad Åbbās was more than half-erect and dropped his hand to fondle her sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks.
“Hi, honey,” she breathed, turning her face to kiss him, briefly, on the mouth. “Did you tip the moving men yet?”
“Oh, no,” Muħammad Åbbās confessed, feeling in his pocket for the twenty-dollar bills.
“Come on and we’ll say goodbye together, then,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl, taking Muħammad Åbbās’s hand and leading him out again.
Muħammad Åbbās followed willingly.
If they could see them off quickly, they’d have time for a visit upstairs before the girls came home…… Muħammad Åbbās’s cut Musalmān nūnī was hardening at the thought.
The guys were closing the back of the van.
“All done, then?” Muħammad Åbbās called, as they approached.
“Yeah, that’s it,” answered Pramod, turning and smiling – his smiling broadening when he saw Al Qamar Al Jalāl at Muħammad Åbbās’s side.
“Well, thanks for all you’ve done,” Muħammad Åbbās said – trying to keep out of his mind the image of Pramod Bending a naked Al Qamar Al Jalāl forward at the waist so that he could squeeze her dangling extremely beautiful Musalmān tits while he rammed his Uncut Hindu Lund into her soaking tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, from the rear.
Muħammad Åbbās handed over the bundle of notes, and shook his hand.
His handshake was firm and dry.
“Good luck to both of you in your new home,” he said, smiling.
“Thank you, Pramod,” said Al Qamar Al Jalāl, her eyes shining as she stepped forward.
He held out a hand, but Al Qamar Al Jalāl put her hands on his shoulders and offered her face for a kiss.
With a very brief glance at Muħammad Åbbās, Pramod put his arms round her and kissed her on the lips.
She came close enough into him for her excellent Musalmān breasts to flatten themselves against his chest, and Muħammad Åbbās’s heart tripped again.
Muħammad Åbbās knew Al Qamar Al Jalāl didn’t mean anything by it – like most of her race, she was very tactile – but Muħammad Åbbās also knew Pramod was enjoying the sensation of Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s firm generous Musalmān mounds against him – and Muħammad Åbbās was getting a strange thrill from it, too.
Muħammad Åbbās turned to Shankar and Vikram and shook them by the hand.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl kissed Shankar but, because he was so much taller than she, their bodies didn’t touch, but Vikram, who was last, pulled her right into him – and dropped his hands to cup Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt as they kissed.
She was a little flushed as they climbed up into the van and they waved until it turned out of sight, at the corner of the street.
Then Al Qamar Al Jalāl took Muħammad Åbbās’s hand and they walked back to Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s new home, in companionable silence.
Muħammad Åbbās didn’t quite know how to bring up the subject, but eventually Muħammad Åbbās said – “I bet we wish it was Wichita, all over again?”
Al Qamar Al Jalāl turned to look at Muħammad Åbbās, a puzzled smile on her face.
“Wichita?” she said.
“That’s exactly what Vikram said,” Muħammad Åbbās grinned – but Muħammad Åbbās’s grin was a bit lopsided.
Muħammad Åbbās felt nervous, like a guy on his first date, wondering how ‘far’ he might get.
“He was a bit cheeky, that Vikram,” remarked Al Qamar Al Jalāl, “grabbing my butt like that. Still, he’s only young – what about Wichita?”
Muħammad Åbbās wanted to ask her about Vikram feeling her sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass, but decided to save that till later.
“Oh,” Muħammad Åbbās said, as they entered the kitchen again, “I overheard them talking a little while ago, and Pramod and Shankar were telling Vikram about a job they did in Wichita.”
Muħammad Åbbās took both of Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s hands and backed her up against the table.
Muħammad Åbbās moved against her, to let her feel his erection pressing into her stomach.
Her eyes widened a little in surprise, but she smiled and moved gently against Muħammad Åbbās.
“What happened in Wichita?” she asked, her voice low.
“Well, there were four of them – Pramod, Shankar and two other guys – and, at the end, the beautiful Musalmān houselady came into the van to thank them. They asked her for a kiss and – well, it ended up with her naked and them taking turns with her.”
Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s face took on a delicate shade of pink, and she dropped her eyes.
“You mean – I had a narrow escape?” she said, softly.
Muħammad Åbbās pressed Muħammad Åbbās’s cut Musalmān nūnī against her and, releasing her hands, cupped her bottom to pull her against Muħammad Åbbās.
She put her arms round Muħammad Åbbās’s neck and buried her face in Muħammad Åbbās’s shoulder.
“Yes,” Muħammad Åbbās whispered. “It’s just as well I was there, don’t you think?”
“Why?” she asked. “Did they – force her?”
“No,” Muħammad Åbbās answered. “I don’t think so. While Shankar was kissing her, the others started touching her and, when she didn’t object – well, they just carried on and stripped her, then they fucked her.”
“What – all of them?” Al Qamar Al Jalāl whispered.
Her lower body was moving against Muħammad Åbbās, her excellent Musalmān breasts pressing against Muħammad Åbbās’s chest. Muħammad Åbbās moved a hand up to squeeze her left breast.
She let out a little sigh.
“Yes – they took turns with her – one after another,” Muħammad Åbbās said, and rubbed a thumb over her nipple.
Muħammad Åbbās could feel it – its erectness – through her blouse and brassiere.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl was silent, but Muħammad Åbbās could hear her breathing – quick, irregular.
Muħammad Åbbās thought about what to say next.
His balls tightened.
“If I hadn’t been there – today – would you have still kissed them?”
“I suppose so.” Her reply was muffled, almost inaudible.
“And what if Vikram had squeezed your sexy gorgeous glamorous exquisite Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt – like he did?”
“Well… ” Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s voice trailed off. Muħammad Åbbās waited.
Eventually, she went on.
“Muħammad Åbbās, I don’t think they would have wanted to – with me,” she said. “I’m just a – married Musalmān houselady – an Ammī, with two kids. The one in Wichita – she was probably… different. Some Musalmān houseladies are just incredibly crazy to get Uncut Hindu Lund in their Musalmān Choot. They are never ashamed of it. Instead, they feel even proud of it that a Hindu fucks them. The clandestine Musalmān sluts for Hindus in fact.”
Muħammad Åbbās’s hand was unbuttoning her blouse. Muħammad Åbbās’s cut Musalmān nūnī was like an iron bar.
Muħammad Åbbās had to wet his lips before Muħammad Åbbās could speak again.
“I heard them talking about you,” Muħammad Åbbās said. Muħammad Åbbās could hear his own voice, shaking with excitement.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s head was buried in Muħammad Åbbās’s chest.
“What – what did they say?” Her voice was low, breathy, quivering – like Muħammad Åbbās’s.
Muħammad Åbbās wet his dry lips again.
“Pramod wanted to fuck you from behind,” Muħammad Åbbās whispered, fiercely, Muħammad Åbbās’s hand plucking her swollen Musalmān tit from her bra, “so he could squeeze your extremely beautiful Musalmān tits, but Shankar wanted you up against a wall, your legs round his waist, so he could feel your ass while his Uncut Hindu Lund was deep inside you… ”
Her grip on Muħammad Åbbās’s shoulders tightened and she let out a muffled moan.
Muħammad Åbbās lifted her and carried her, unresisting, into the den.
Muħammad Åbbās laid her on the couch and pulled off her blouse and bra.
Her naked Musalmān breasts spilled out, her nipples hard and erect.
She lay, looking up at Muħammad Åbbās, as Muħammad Åbbās wrestled his jeans off.
Her hands stroked her extremely beautiful Musalmān tits, sensuously.
“Did they say that?” she said, shyly, incredulously.
Muħammad Åbbās grunted, nodding his head, as Muħammad Åbbās kicked his shoes to the floor.
“And you…? You were listening?”
“Yeah,” Muħammad Åbbās gritted, his jeans coming off in a rush.
Muħammad Åbbās dragged his shorts down, over his distended erection. “I was mad, at first, then – I thought about you, and them, and them – taking off your clothes and feeling your extremely beautiful Musalmān tits and your perfect firm Panjvaqtah Namāzī excellent exquisite Musalmān ass – and then laying you down on the tarpaulin and spreading your legs… ”
Somewhere along the line, Al Qamar Al Jalāl had pulled off her shorts and panties and was naked on the couch, legs apart, her hand between her thighs, her middle finger stimulating her clitoris.
Her head was thrown back, her tongue running round her lips.
“Come and fuck me, Muħammad Åbbās,” she gasped, hoarsely. “Come on – pretend you’ve watched them feeling my bare extremely beautiful Musalmān tits and sliding their Uncut Hindu Lund up me, one by one. Come and… aaaaagh!”
Muħammad Åbbās plunged his cut Musalmān nūnī deep inside her wet gaping tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and felt the tight slippery muscles grip and massage it as Muħammad Åbbās began to ride her hard, his mouth fastened on to one distended nipple.
“This… was… how… Vikram… wanted… to… fuck… you,” Muħammad Åbbās gasped with each stroke. Muħammad Åbbās knew Muħammad Åbbās was taking liberties with the truth, but Muħammad Åbbās wanted her to think of someone else on top of her – a new Uncut Hindu Lund – a young, tireless one which could fuck her into oblivion.
“Yes,” she gasped. “And Durgesh, too!”
For a second or two, Muħammad Åbbās thought – “Who the fuck is Durgesh?” – but then all coherent thought deserted Muħammad Åbbās as the red mist rose and rockets and stars went off in Muħammad Åbbās’s head and Muħammad Åbbās made one last desperate plunge up his writhing, gasping Musalmān wife before Muħammad Åbbās’s cut Musalmān nūnī finally twitched uncontrollably and the volcano burst forth.
Muħammad Åbbās seemed to come for literally ages and almost passed out completely with the intensity of his orgasm.
To Muħammad Åbbās’s shame, Muħammad Åbbās had no idea whether Al Qamar Al Jalāl came or not.
When Muħammad Åbbās returned to his senses, Muħammad Åbbās was sprawled on top of her and his limp cut Musalmān nūnī was hanging helplessly between her thighs.
Al Qamar Al Jalāl’s arms were clasped around Muħammad Åbbās, tightly – a fact Muħammad Åbbās noted with intense relief.
Never before had Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s lovemaking encompassed the notion of Al Qamar Al Jalāl letting another man have her and, now that Muħammad Åbbās had returned to a post-orgasmic sanity, Muħammad Åbbās was very unsure as to how she would take the idea that such a thing could excite Muħammad Åbbās.
It never occurred to Muħammad Åbbās that she could be worried about how Muħammad Åbbās would react to her getting turned on by the same thing and Muħammad Åbbās didn’t know what might have happened if the phone hadn’t rung at that Moment.
It was the call Muħammad Åbbās had been expecting – from the office.
Muħammad Åbbās was surprised they had managed to cope this long without Muħammad Åbbās – and very relieved they hadn’t called twenty minutes earlier!
By the time, Muħammad Åbbās had finished the call, the girls had been brought back, hollering for something to eat, and Al Qamar Al Jalāl was back in the kitchen – back to being a normal wife and Ammī.
She went to bed early that night, and Muħammad Åbbās guessed she was a little disturbed at the turn Al Qamar Al Jalāl and Muħammad Åbbās’s lovemaking had taken that afternoon – as, indeed, was Muħammad Åbbās himself.
Muħammad Åbbās sat, alone, thinking about the incredible excitement Muħammad Åbbās had derived from the picture of the three moving Hindu men stripping Muħammad Åbbās’s lovely extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife in the back of their van, then taking turns at fucking her, each in his own special Hindu way.
Muħammad Åbbās was also incredibly turned on by the way Al Qamar Al Jalāl had joined Muħammad Åbbās in Muħammad Åbbās’s fantasy and, as Muħammad Åbbās thought about it, Muħammad Åbbās’s hand stroked the sensitive underside of his cut Musalmān nūnī , through his trousers, then Muħammad Åbbās had to release it, and Muħammad Åbbās masturbated to orgasm, thinking of Muħammad Åbbās’s lovely extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wife gasping in ecstasy as another hard Uncut Hindu Lund plunged between her willing Musalmān thighs…
Allah, is he crazy?
Muħammad Åbbās was horrified now.
Chapter 12
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1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The Audacity: Index
Posted: November 2, 2013 Filed under: Ashvinatam, Muslimahs, Muslimat | Tags: Ashvinatam, Ashvinatam sex, Ashvinatam Yugal, Behavioural Science, Durgesh, Feminism, 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 Leave a commentThe Audacity
Chapter 24
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1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Creative Adult Sex: Durgesh 