The Durgesh Obsession: 11
Posted: April 7, 2015 Filed under: Uncategorized Leave a commentChapter 11
Durgesh Fātimah Saåīd
Durgesh was naked from the waist down and his extraordinary equipment was on display for one and all to see.
There were some ‘Ooohs’ and a few ‘Ahhs,’ a couple of ‘Oh my gods,’ one ‘Holy fuck,’ more than one chuckle and a definite ‘I’m going to fucking kill you’ from Durgesh.
Muħammad ran for his life and left the party quickly, running all the way home forgetting his parent’s car in the process.
Fātimah Saåīd received a call from his mom, Sājidah Åleem shortly thereafter asking if it was safe to have him pick up the car or should she come and get it herself.
For the sake of the family Fātimah Saåīd said,
“I’d bring it to you and Muħammad Ibrāhīm would follow behind me to bring me back home.
This brought her back to the moment at hand.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, and Fātimah Saåīd were getting ready for bed.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm was already in bed wearing the bottoms of his pyjamas and Fātimah Saåīd had just come out of the bathroom wearing the top.
Fātimah Saåīd and Muħammad Ibrāhīm often went to bed that way, and had done so since the early days of their marriage.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm had found it sexy from the time of their honeymoon and it just seemed to have stuck.
It was now this ritual Fātimah Saåīd and Muħammad Ibrāhīm never let go of, the only change was if Fātimah Saåīd was having her period, then Fātimah Saåīd wore panties, but typically Fātimah Saåīd wore just the top.
What few nighties Fātimah Saåīd did have were of the more risqué type, that were meant to entice, although Fātimah Saåīd thought Fātimah Saåīd looked rather enticing as it was in a pyjama top.
Generally when Fātimah Saåīd shopped for bedclothes, Fātimah Saåīd bought large men’s pyjamas, long sleeved and that was it, that’s what Fātimah Saåīd and Muħammad Ibrāhīm wore to bed.
So here Fātimah Saåīd and Muħammad Ibrāhīm were getting ready for bed.
Fātimah Saåīd had just come out of the shower, dried herself off, wrapped a towel around her head like a turban and was putting on her top, doing up the buttons.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, sitting in bed waiting for Fātimah Saåīd, obsessing, he couldn’t seem to let go of what he and Fātimah Saåīd and everyone else saw during the party; Durgesh naked from the waist down, fully exposed and on display sporting a rather large, possibly extraordinarily large, ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund. Although the incident probably happened in less than a minute from beginning to end it did seem much longer.
The global pause of the crowd seemed embarrassingly long and the moment felt like it had held still in time.
“Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah! God, the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu is really hung! No doubt the horny beautiful Musalmān houseladies are crazy to fuck Durgesh.” Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, continued.
The excitement in his voice was almost palatable; he was exuding an intense curiosity about what they had all witnessed, a morbid fascination if you will.
Not too dissimilar from driving by a car wreck, you don’t want to look but you just have too.
“Yes baby, I know,” Fātimah Saåīd replied in answer, her voice trying to downplay Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband’s enthusiasm.
Fātimah Saåīd thought if Fātimah Saåīd could just normalize the incident they could just move past it, without any undo harm.
But even in her thinking Fātimah Saåīd was referring to today’s event as ‘The Incident’ the harm had already occurred and Fātimah Saåīd just didn’t know it yet.
“Did you see it?” He repeated sounding as though he would be more fascinated with context of her answer than her simple acknowledgement of the fact.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, seemed to be attempting to judge the impact this was having on Fātimah Saåīd, it was apparent that it had, had an impact on him.
At the time Fātimah Saåīd didn’t think the impact to her was as far great as it was to him.
Fātimah Saåīd was soon to find out differently.
“How could I not babe?” Again her voice was calm and matter-of-fact.
“We all saw it!” Fātimah Saåīd said as Fātimah Saåīd walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm didn’t really appear to be looking at Fātimah Saåīd as he spoke.
He was in some far off place, recounting the events of the day over and over again.
“But did you really get a look at it?” He asked once again.
“Yes baby, I did,” Was her response.
It was simple and to the point, Fātimah Saåīd fond when he got like this it’s the best way to deal with him.
No emphasis on tone or phrasing, just straight and to the point.
Any build up in her voice one way or the other would simply caused him to further react.
“Fātimah Saåīd, I mean, Allah Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah! My God, did you really see it!” His emphasis on the word ‘IT’ was undeniable.
He was clearly becoming obsessed with what had happened this afternoon at the pool party.
He was in awe of my apparent size and quite frankly without being too overly dramatic, it was big.
“Yes baby I saw it,” Fātimah Saåīd said still trying to down play the issue and just normalize the situation Fātimah Saåīd crawled into bed beside him, Fātimah Saåīd was fussing with her earrings and was taking them out to put them by her night-stand.
Seeing that Fātimah Saåīd was having difficulty, he came up behind Fātimah Saåīd and began to take them out for Fātimah Saåīd, first the left and than the right.
This was sort of a manipulation on her part, as this little ritual was usually an indication that Fātimah Saåīd and Muħammad Ibrāhīm were going to have sex.
Fātimah Saåīd had thought if Fātimah Saåīd could get him focused on something else, they could end this conversation and go to bed, but to no avail.
“It was big wasn’t it,” He asked really not expecting an answer that would be contrary to his observation.
Hell, there really was no way to rebuke what they had seen, what everyone had seen for that matter.
“Yes baby, it was big,” Fātimah Saåīd confirmed again, reassuring him once more that he was right, it was big Durgesh, their Hindu Brother in law, was rather hung.
Fātimah Saåīd turned to face him, taking her hair out of the towel and letting it fall to the floor.
He always loved this look on Fātimah Saåīd, fresh from the shower, hair looking wet and sexy.
Fātimah Saåīd pulled her pyjama top down, causing the material to pull firmly against her breast, exposing her ample Musalmān cleavage as a means to entice him away from this topic.
Her nipples began to poke out hard against the material indicating her arousal.
“Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah! My God,, and it wasn’t even hard!” He said as he lay back, nestling his head into the pillow while staring straight up at the ceiling.
Fātimah Saåīd couldn’t believe that he was ignoring her cues and staying singularly focused on this one issue.
Only because Durgesh was his Jījū, his brother in law?
Perhaps it wasn’t only that.
Durgesh represented Muħammad Ibrāhīm. Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, in his every divorce case.
Durgesh always saved Muħammad Ibrāhīm from his divorcee wives’ furious attempts to snatch away almost his entire money and wealth.
It was because of Durgesh that one of his favorite Musalmān sālās, Muħammad Ibrāhīm, was still a millionaire.
Fātimah Saåīd was going to have to be more direct and actually initiate the first move.
“No baby, Our Hindu Brother in law got pants in front of all his friends and he wasn’t sporting an erection,”
Allah, My God, the man was a moron.
How is getting pants’d in front of your friends a turn on for most men.
“Do you think he’s never ashamed of exhibiting his Uncut Hindu Lund in this way?” Asked Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, innocently.
Fātimah Saåīd retorted.
“I don’t know, Muħammad Ibrāhīm. Why don’t you ask him?” Now Fātimah Saåīd was getting annoyed.
But it was clear that her tone wasn’t registering, as this conversation didn’t appear to have an end to it.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm was becoming more obsessed.
Allah!
Even the Musalmān mankind had Durgesh Obsession now?
Wasn’t it enough that horny beautiful Musalmān houseladies had it entirely unashamed of themselves for it?
He’d always had a weird fascination with larger than normal penises, well that is to say when Fātimah Saåīd and Muħammad Ibrāhīm watched porn together, it always featured the more well endowed actors vs. those that might be considered more normal in their… size.
“Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah! My God, Fātimah Saåīd, I wonder how often Durgesh Jījū gets laid by incredibly beautiful Musalmān houseladies ?” Continued Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband.
“Muħammad Ibrāhīm! That is enough!” Fātimah Saåīd replied feeling a little frazzled by this discussion.
“You are talking about Durgesh, Our Hindu Brother in law,” Fātimah Saåīd said finally trying to bring an end to this topic.
For a second Muħammad Ibrāhīm appeared to have halted the discussion.
He turned onto his side, blinked his eyes, looked at Fātimah Saåīd seriously and said,
“Fātimah Saåīd, I know he’s Our Hindu Brother in law but Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah! my God, the man is hung like a porn star, better even. Think about it, Fātimah Saåīd, with a dick like that he is really the living legend and he’s already sixty six! I’m not surprised they claim Durgesh Jījū is fucking entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies.”
Fātimah Saåīd just stared blankly at him as he continued,
“Allah! God, what Musalmān girl wouldn’t want a Hindu piece of that?”
This was a trap that Fātimah Saåīd didn’t see it coming.
Later when Fātimah Saåīd looked back on it Fātimah Saåīd would realize that this was the very moment things began to change, but at the time her Islamic instincts took over and Fātimah Saåīd became protective.
“Look Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Durgesh is just a Hindu and yes he is a Hindu with a rather large… penis, but he is still a Hindu,”
“Musalmān Girls are too simply that, Musalmān girls. They don’t know what they want, they don’t have experience and a Hindu with a rather large… penis, is not what you think it is,”
Fātimah Saåīd continued down this vain trying to set Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, straight.
Fātimah Saåīd was hoping he’d join her on a path that might be more conducive to supporting his Hindu Brother in law, rather than overly glamorizing his ‘Equipment’, “Most Musalmān girls have had limited encounters with Durgesh and something that… size, it’s kind of intimidating on your first attempt,”
Muħammad Ibrāhīm remained quiet as Fātimah Saåīd spoke and allowed her to go on.
Had Fātimah Saåīd known it was all part of his twisted little plan Fātimah Saåīd probably wouldn’t have preceded as Fātimah Saåīd did.
Well they say hindsight is always 20/20 and without its benefit, Fātimah Saåīd continued down this path blinded to what lay ahead of her.
“Besides,” Fātimah Saåīd went on, “Just because you have the best equipment in the game doesn’t mean you know how to use it or, that you’re the best player,”
Of course Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, wasn’t going to leave it there.
He was too caught up in his single minded pursuit, getting side tracked as most men do, becoming fixated with one angle of discussion, sex.
“Is that the voice of experience speaking?” He asked with a sly smile across his face.
“How did this conversation become about me?” Fātimah Saåīd questioned.
Fātimah Saåīd was becoming more than a little frustrated and her blood was beginning to boil, “We were talking about Durgesh.”
“Yes Fātimah Saåīd, I know, but you seem to have answers I haven’t considered, so I was wondering from whence this information came? Knowledge gathered through observation? Personal experience? Or are you just guessing?”
Allah! God, Fātimah Saåīd hated when he waxed philosophical.
As much as Fātimah Saåīd loved Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, he could be an arrogant Son-of-Bitch when he wanted to be and this was proving to be no different.
“Look, all I’m saying is that he does have the equipment you might think everyone wants,”
Fātimah Saåīd looked at him knowing he wasn’t able to get beyond the visual he’d seen this morning, “But without the right kind of practice, it maybe more of a curse than you’d like to think,”
“A curse, really. Are you sure?” Again that sly smile on his face appeared.
“Yes, of course I’m sure. That’s a rather large… a… weapon, he has between his legs,” Fātimah Saåīd reiterated what they both knew, “And I doubt there are any horny Musalmān girls with the experience needed to handle something like that, let alone teach him how actually to use it and use it well. Quite frankly that takes an experienced Musalmān woman not an inexperienced Musalmān girl,”
“And you don’t think he’s tried to use that thing on any of the Musalmān girls that seem to clamor around him all the time; Noor, Nishāt, Kulsoom, Rashīdah,” He listed just a small number of the girls that I had either dated or been close to over my life, “With not those Musalmān girls he has the pleasure of that Hindu tool?”
Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, was right.
One of those Musalmān girls had to have at least sampled some of Durgesh’s Hindu length, whether fully or half-heartedly.
Her own heart ached for him, recalling his embarrassment this afternoon when all had been revealed.
What if, Fātimah Saåīd couldn’t help but worry, he had experiences that weren’t as flattering to his ego as you might think.
What if his size made him more of a freak, than a living god among men? Men who had no clear idea what a cock like that could do to or for a Musalmān woman, if employed correctly.
Not all Musalmān women mind you, but enough of us that either secretly fantasized about larger Hindu man or have had the pleasure of experiencing them.
Especially if the Hindu man knew how to use, oh the sexual doors they could open that others couldn’t.
“Well, they may have tried it, but I don’t believe for an instant they’d have been able to help him master it,” Fātimah Saåīd said emphatically.
Fātimah Saåīd was beginning to feel a mixture of things that ranged from custodial and protective, right through to possessive and jealous, almost covetous,
“That would take someone with far more experience than any of those inexperienced Musalmān girls have.”
“Really, so we’re talking a Musalmān woman vs. a Musalmān girl then?” Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, was being smug and it was having the effect he knew it would, the manipulative bastard.
“Well, I would think so…” and before Fātimah Saåīd finished her sentence Fātimah Saåīd knew he’d played her.
“Fine I’ll hook him up with an escort for a graduation present and he’ll get the practice he needs,” He smiled and reached for his cell phone, “Jamie, Jamīlah, will know just who to call.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort! No sleaze bag Musalmān whore is going to get within a mile of Durgesh.”
“Well, Fātimah Saåīd, I wasn’t thinking a mile but from what I saw this afternoon it looked to be around ten maybe twelve inches, What do you think?” the smile on Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband’s face was devious and broad.
“I think you’re goading me, is what I think,” Fātimah Saåīd replied knowing full well he’d got her roused and he’d done it on purpose.
They had some of their best sex when Fātimah Saåīd was in this state and he knew it.
In fact Fātimah Saåīd was betting he was counting on it.
“Well, it was fucking huge, wasn’t it,” he said with a smile.
Moving in closer to her, closing the distance between their bodies, Fātimah Saåīd could feel the heat coming off him and knew where this was headed.
Muħammad Ibrāhīm had a few tells when it came to sex and this was one of them.
“Yes it was,” Fātimah Saåīd affirmed.
“It was fucking huge,” And thick, Fātimah Saåīd thought to herself, nice and thick, Allah! Måshā’Allah! SubħānAllah! Oh my God, was it thick.
It didn’t occur to her until later but Fātimah Saåīd began to swear, which was one of her ‘tells’ when it came to wanting sex and Muħammad Ibrāhīm knew that one well.
Suddenly Fātimah Saåīd was horny, hornier than Fātimah Saåīd had been in a long time.
There was something unique about her frustration level, and her sometimes.
When Fātimah Saåīd got frustrated Fātimah Saåīd got horny.
So given the futility of the discussion She’d been having with Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband, Fātimah Saåīd was definitely frustrated and therefore aroused.
And this arousal brought on by Muħammad Ibrāhīm, Fātimah Saåīd’s husband’s incessant obsession with the size of Durgesh’s cock had Fātimah Saåīd raging with a frustration Fātimah Saåīd couldn’t pinpoint.
Before Fātimah Saåīd knew what was happening he had his hand behind her head and brought her in for a kiss.
He held her head tightly; making sure the kiss was tight and passionate. Their mouths sought each other as if trying to chew and consume the other.
Her tongue searched out his, as Fātimah Saåīd sucked and bit his lips.
Soon both her hands held his face close to her and Fātimah Saåīd couldn’t get enough of his taste and smell but Fātimah Saåīd wanted more.
The kiss continued and progressed as Muħammad Ibrāhīm leaned back into the bed against his pillows.
Fātimah Saåīd moved forward with him, straddling his legs, not wanting their mouths to part.
Fātimah Saåīd needed him, wanted him, and craved him.
Fātimah Saåīd pressed her forehead to his, her eyes half lidded and took the opportunity to breathe and get her bearings.
Breathing deeply through her mouth, her firm breast rising and falling with the intake of air, Fātimah Saåīd could feel her nipples hardening like diamonds, pointing proudly on her full firm breasts.
Her Musalmān cleavage fully exposed with tiny beads of sweat beginning to form, Muħammad Ibrāhīm leaned forward and kissed her neck.
His hands pulling open her pyjama shirt as he began to suck his way down to first her right and then her left nipple.
He sucked and bit them, driving crazy as only he can.
Over the years he has become very proficient at using the sensitivity of her nipples to get her to acquiesce to his sexual desires.
So he began to work his way back up her neck to her mouth, while twisting her nipples between his fingers.
This always drove her crazy and quickly led to her demonstrating her love for him in overly amorous ways.
Looking down through her half lidded eyes, Fātimah Saåīd saw his cut Musalmān noonī poking through his pyjamas.
It was firm and hard and looked as though it ached to be touched, held, licked and sucked.
Fātimah Saåīd reached for it and found the head wet and slippery with his pre-cum.
“Arrgh, fuck,” he moaned as her hand encompassed his erection.
Fātimah Saåīd held it firmly and began to stroke his length.
It was thick and hard and pulsed in her hand.
It was amazing to her how something like a cock can feel both hard as steel and velvety soft at the same time.
The head was wet and slick with pre-cum, Fātimah Saåīd ran her thumb across the tip, and over the slit where Fātimah Saåīd knew it would be the most sensitive.
It would have been more sensitive as Hindus do have, if it weren’t a cut Musalmān noonī.
This utmost sensitive part that was covered by foreskin originally to keep it utmost sensitive forever, was entirely exposed in a cut Musalmān noonī, losing its natural sensitivity thus deliberately to avoid sex as much as possible and devote himself to military activities of Jihad.
That was why Muħammad Ibrāhīm needed outside provocation as he needed the discussion of Durgesh’s ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund now.
Hindus never needed it.
They were intelligent enough to keep their foreskin intact ever.
Yes, Hindus were the sexist while the Musalmīn were utmost moral.
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