1: Of my Musalmān friends
Al Raħmān Al Åbbās family
Durgesh Al Saåīdah Al Zāfar
Durgesh Al Asmā Al Salmān
It was too wonderful to stop.
Saåīdah Zāfar dropped her gown, and pulled it closed hiding me from view.
Knowing My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, was only a few feet away from me, while I was hidden under My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s silk gown, pounding vehemently her Panjvaqtah Namāzī young adult Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy with my utmost experienced Anant Muslimātchod Uncut Hindu Cock, in public, was probably the single most erotic experience anyone has ever had.
“Are you okay, Al Saåīdah Al Zāfar? You seem flushed. Why are you breathing so hard? Where’s our family Sex Therapist Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, Durgesh?” she asked Saåīdah Zāfar as I tried to move as little as possible while continuing to fuck her.
Sālī Just eighteen Just Adult.
What a brave girl.
I never knew she was so cunning.
She was tricking her own ever cunning Ammī, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān.
She was fucking me right under her nose.
In front of her Ammī’s own very eyes.
Yet, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān didn’t know.
“What do you mean?” Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān asked somewhat angrily.
“A wife needed him. He is coming soon.”
“tortured sexually by her inconsiderate Musalmān husband.”
Yet, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān didn’t know it.
She couldn’t see what was happening under the gown of her Just eighteen Just Adult daughter.
“We were walking over by the woods and a skunk started to chase us. We had to run our asses off to avoid getting sprayed.” Saåīdah Zāfar said between gasps as I throbbed my immense experienced Uncut Hindu Lund into her Musalmān Choot without movement my waist.
I heard her saying,
“Ammī, umm my…my legs are a bit un…unsteady. C…c…can you go get me a co…coke. I need th…th..th…the sugar aaaaa…nd the caffeine.”
“Sure honey.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said, heading to the vending machines around the corner.
Once my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, walked away, Saåīdah Zāfar whispered “Hurry Durgesh, I’m so close to cumming. I can’t wait. Finish me off. Fuck my pussy and fill it with your Hindu cum my Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā.”
“Sālī Badmåsh, you misled my Bhābhījān.” I smiled fucking her vehemently.
“You fuck your Bhābhījāns. Wow.”
“They aren’t my real Bhābhījāns.” I told her.
“Nevertheless, they are your friends’ wives.”
I started to fuck my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter as hard as I could.
With one of my hands, I reached behind her, found her other crack, and began to explore this new area until I found what I was looking for.
She gasped and her body went rigid.
A second later, I rewarded her with a flood of my Hindu cream as her legs began to shake.
She grabbed my waist and mashed it against her sexpot.
Suddenly we heard my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, returning, so I stood up and marched around the corner out of sight.
It was covered in wonderful smelling teen Musalmān pussy cream, made all the better because I got it fresh from my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter.
I reluctantly washed it to hide the evidence of my infidelity from my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān.
Returning to the car, my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, and daughter were nowhere to be found.
I opened the passenger door and sat down to wait for them, wondering what they were doing.
Several minutes later, my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, showed up at the car sans daughter.
“Where’s Saåīdah Zāfar?” I ask concerned.
“She went to the bathroom.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said coldly.
“Something wrong?” I asked worried that My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter confessed what we did to My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, and she was processing it.*
I didn’t have anything going on.
I assumed I’d be able to get a look at Nādirah Åzīm’s friend Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān in her skimpy Halloween outfit.
I figured, why not?
“Sure, yār. It’s not as if I’m doing anything tonight, and I don’t want Nādirah Åzīm to miss out on something she’s been waiting for. Do I need a costume or something, though?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah, Dad. Just wear the one I got. I haven’t even worn it yet, and we’re similar builds so it shouldn’t matter. Thanks for doing this for me. Your temporary Bahū Bégum cum ultimate Musalmān wife will really appreciate it.”
“We don’t have any extramarital affair.” I said curtly, “Yes, Farīdah Imām etcetera are countless my Musalmān stepdaughters in law are my wives now. Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean my every Musalmān stepdaughter in law has extramarital affair with me.”
Al Muħammad Al Raħmān smiled ironically.
“I haven’t any objection at all even if your temporary Bahū Bégum cum ultimate Musalmān wife declares her live in relationship with you publicly. Everyone already believes in your extramarital affairs with your entire temporary Bahū Bégum cum ultimate Musalmān wives. No need to hide it from me.”
“Al Muħammad Al Raħmān, you…”
“Dad, will you do this favor to your Musalmān stepson or not?”
I smiled curtly.
“Okay. No problem. When am I supposed to be there?”
“Try to get there by six. I have to leave real soon, so I’ll leave the rest to you. Here’s the address. Have fun!” Al Muħammad Al Raħmān said, picking up my coat and briefcase, handing me the address before heading out the door.*
Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān turned and looked at me “How could you leave my daughter all alone after that experience?” she sounded annoyed.
I was confused for a second, then I remembered the cover story Saåīdah Zāfar used.
“She said she was fine and Pepe Le Peu scared the bejesus out of me. If I hadn’t run to the bathroom, my clothes would be unwearable.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
I was saved from answering when Saåīdah Zāfar walked around the corner.
I swung my legs into the car and My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, held Saåīdah Zāfar’s hand as she climbed in.
Saåīdah Zāfar sat on my left leg, with her legs over my right leg sitting almost sideways.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, walked around the car and started it.
“Wait, I left my soda on the roof”, Saåīdah Zāfar yelled, and jumped out of the car, before I could close the door.
I watched as she winked at me, put a single finger against her full pouty lips, and began to quickly strip out of her gown.
I was puzzled when she stood there naked for several seconds letting me look at her extremely beautiful Just eighteen Just Adult Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body, not as my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter, but as a desirable Musalmān woman I have fucked and still was going to fuck, and fuck soon.
Saåīdah Zāfar sat in the same position as before and I could see everything.
Her pussy was completely clean shaven and her lips were engorged and shiny from her earlier orgasm.
Her nipples were painfully erect and were ripe for being kissed.
Once she was in position, she draped the gown over us like a blanket, hiding anything we were doing from prying eyes, if there were any.
As soon as we were back on the interstate, her hand pulled my Uncut Hindu Dick out of my shorts and began to stroke it.
I leaned in and kissed her again as my hands began to freely explore her now entirely naked young Musalmān body.
We kissed, as my hands got intimately familiar with the flesh of her stomach and breasts.
She broke the kiss and put her head on my shoulder, just as she did when she was a little girl.
The mock innocence of the gesture and the taboo nature of our behavior was a huge turn on.
Saåīdah Zāfar whispered to me.
I had to bite my tongue hard to stop myself from cumming when I heard those words and her warm breath on my ear. She lifted herself off me, and I lifted myself off the seat so we worked together to slide my shorts down my legs freeing my Uncut Hindu Cock and balls for her.
She pulled the dress aside and took a good look at my Uncut Hindu Dick.
She gasped and whispered in my ear,
Before she could shift positions, I took advantage of the Moment.
Bringing my hand down, I captured her nipple and squeezed it.
She gasped in delight, as I squeezed it hard.
My another hand found her other breast which was still covered.
I began to pinch and yank on her nipple.
I could tell she loved it by the sounds she was making and the way her cream was gushing out of her body.
Her words didn’t register right away because I was preoccupied with not blasting my cum from job I was getting, not to mention enjoying the sensation of one nipple in my one hand, one in another, and my Uncut Hindu Cock playing with her sticky sweet Musalmān hole.
When her words penetrated the fog of lust shrouding my brain, I swelled with pride.
I knew I was unusually large.
What man doesn’t want to be told he has the biggest Uncut Hindu Dick his partner has ever seen.
Releasing her nipple from my hand, she carefully lifted herself off my leg and pushed my legs together.
I was fighting not to cum too soon.
I didn’t want to explode before I had time to really enjoy her teenage Musalmān pussy to the extent she wanted.
As Family friend and my friend’s daughter we were about to break the final frontier again, now forever.
Then I felt it.
Her pussy had made contact again.
She paused and took a deep breath.
She grabbed my Uncut Hindu Dick more firmly, and began to lower herself.
She paused and lifted herself up a bit leaving only the head inside her.
My hands gripped the tops of her thighs, holding her in place.
“Don’t move unless you want this to end real quickly,” I breathe into her ear.
I lay my head back against the headrest and breathe deeply trying reducing my balls from boiling to simmer.
I began to mentally review client data from work to take my mind off the unbelievable ashvinātam pleasure coursing through my body.
After several minutes, I had myself somewhat under control and released Saåīdah Zāfar’s thighs.
My hands slid up her body to her breasts which I began to squeeze and rub, whispering in her ear,
“Go ahead baby; fuck your Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā Durgesh. Ride Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Cock until he fills his friend’s little Musalmān girl’s Just eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Cunt with the same cream that gave life to everyone.”
Saåīdah Zāfar shuddered in a mini orgasm at my words.
She began to rotate her hips on my Uncut Hindu Dick as she surrendered to the passion that consumed us both.
I thrust into her, my movements limited by her weight on top of me, but any movement increased the pleasure I was feeling.
Saåīdah Zāfar began to match my powerful Hindu thrusts as we sped down the highway.
“Hey, you guys want a bite to eat? There’s a 24 hour drive thru at the next exit.”
“I could go for a nice big, hot, thick, juicy, wiener. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.” Saåīdah Zāfar replied, “And a thick, white, creamy milkshake to wash it down with.”
My Uncut Hindu Dick jumped at her words knowing what she was really saying.
“What about you, Durgesh? You want somethin’ to eat?”
“What I want isn’t on the menu of any drive thru!” I replied.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter giggled and her Musalmān pussy muscles squeezed my Uncut Hindu Dick as she continued to rock her hips.
“Well when we get home, maybe that can be on the menu.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said.
“No more sex jokes please.” Saåīdah Zāfar said in a teasing tone, “I can’t fuckin’ take much more, and if you keep it up, I just might cum up with my own.” I made my Uncut Hindu Dick jump inside her to let her know I got her reference.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, laughed as she took the exit and followed the signs to the restaurant. “Seriously Durgesh, you want something?”
“Actually I have a sudden craving for a banana cream pie and a cream soda.”
“What!” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said as My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughters laughter clues her in on the pun.
“No! I’ll have a large order of onion rings, and a 7up.” then I whispered in Saåīdah Zāfar’s ear, “I have my wiener up your onion ring.” She moaned or groaned, I wasn’t sure but she kept riding my Uncut Hindu Dick as I played with her nipples that were so hard they could cut diamonds.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, pulled up to the speaker and placed our orders.
Then we pulled up to the window and waited for our food.
While waiting, I saw a video camera mounted on a pole pointing into our car.
“Hey baby want to put on a show for these poor fools stuck at work I said pointing to the camera.”
Saåīdah Zāfar looked up and seeing the camera she whipped the gown off our bodies and dropped it to the floor, exposing her whole body to the camera.
I moaned in pleasure and began to rock my hips to increase the joggle of her naked breasts, as she began to ham up her pleasure for the camera.
After several minutes of our public lewdness, I heard the cashier said,
“Here’s most of your food, just waiting on the onion rings to finish cooking. It’ll be another minute or so.”
Saåīdah Zāfar pushed herself off my hard Uncut Hindu Dick once again exposing me to the camera.
Somehow, she was able to turn her body around so she was facing me.
She put one knee on each side of my body and lowered herself onto my cock.
“Cum for me, Durgesh. I want you to cum on camera. I want the loser who’s stuck watching that camera to see my Durgesh‘s Hindu cum blast out of his big hard Uncut Hindu Dick, all over into my Musalmān ass and Musalmān Cunt in that order strictly.”
That was all it took.
I pulled my Uncut Hindu Dick out of her cunt, felt her trap it between her wonderfully firm Musalmān ass cheeks and keep the friction going as I bit my lip to keep from grunting.
As my Uncut Hindu Dick convulsed and shot hot cum into my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s back. The first blast landed between her shoulder blades, and started to run down her spine.
Each powerful blast landed on her back as my body spasmed in orgasm.
Just as the last of my load oozed out onto her ass cheeks, we started to pull away from the drive through.
I waved at the camera and Saåīdah Zāfar twisted around and blew it a kiss.
“For the third goddamn time, can one of you take this food!” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān’s annoyed voice came over the present that was acting as a barrier between her and the taboo fuck fest that My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter and I had been involved in for almost an hour.
“Oh sorry honey I was daydreaming and I think Saåīdah Zāfar fell asleep.” I replied reaching over to take the bags from her hand.
Saåīdah Zāfar had her hands wrapped around my neck and was holding me tight, on the verge of her orgasm.
If her Ammī hadn’t spoken at just that Moment, she would have been wracked with pleasure right now.
“Soon baby, soon, Durgesh will make you happy.” he just gripped me tighter and started to kiss my neck as I pulled out the food we had ordered. I put our drinks in the cup holders, figuring Missy had kept hers. Then I took out my onion rings, and her hot dog. Looking in the bag, I saw all that was left was a Large soft pretzel with a few packs of mustard and some cheese sauce.
Handing Missy’s food back to her, I said, “Thanks for this babe it really hits the spot.” While using some napkins to wipe my Hindu cum from my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s back.
“Yes it’s just what I wanted” Saåīdah Zāfar said as I cleaned her up.
“You guys are acting weird. You got a hot dog and onion rings and are acting like it’s Beef Stroganoff.” Missy said as we get back on the highway to finish our journey home.
“All the action wore me out.” Saåīdah Zāfar said. “I really needed a protein injection.”
“Saåīdah Zāfar!” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said in mock horror.
“I must be tired. I’m starting to make sex jokes like you guys.” she said rubbing her ass on my Uncut Hindu Dick.
“Besides babe, when we get home you can be the one Stroganoff the beef.”
“Durgesh!” Saåīdah Zāfar said sounding just like her Ammī, and all three of us cracked up.
While we were all joking around, I secretly slipped an onion ring around one end of my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s hot dog, and found another one that was the perfect size for an idea I had.
Saåīdah Zāfar squirmed around so she would be facing forward, and I handed her the hot dog.
She looked at it in puzzlement.
She licked the hot dog where it over hung the bun, right next to the onion ring.
I sighed as I envisioned this happening at home.
I had never before seen someone eat a hot dog so erotically.
I would never be able to visit a Nathans without getting a boner, but it was worth it.
Once she finished that, I was hard again and her pussy was resting right on top of my Uncut Hindu Dick, her lips hugging the shaft.
It didn’t take long before she grunted and started to writhe around having finally reached the climax that had been building since we left the rest area almost an hour ago.
When she had control of her own body again, she leaned back against me. Sighing she said,
“How long before we get home?”
“About 20 or 30 minutes,” Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān replied.
“Durgesh, can I eat your last onion ring?”
“It’s all yours, baby.” I replied loud enough for My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, to hear.
Then in a low voice only she can hear,
“I saved it for you…” I picked it up with my left hand and reached for her left hand with my right.
Taking her left hand in my right, I held up the onion ring and slid it onto her ring finger. “…with this ring, I thee bed.” I paraphrased the famous line we had heard just a few hours ago.
“Durgesh?” she said looking at her finger and then me.
“That is my promise that you will always be welcome to join me in my bed, no matter what.”
“Oh Durgesh,” she said as tears filled her eyes. “ I’ve wanted to be your lover since I was 15, and was always jealous of Ůzrah thinking you two were lovers.”
I kissed the top of her head and whispered,
“I’ve never made this sort of love to anyone but your Ammī since she got married to your Abbū, until tonight…well, except that one night on our honeymoon, but that’s another story. No woman has ever filled me recently with the passion, the desire, the animal lust as you did tonight. I promise you that one night soon our little fantasy will happen.”
Saåīdah Zāfar twisted around and kissed me on the mouth her tongue even more aggressive than the first time we kissed.
My cock which had started to get erect shot to full size in record time.
Breaking the kiss, she said,
“No Durgesh! We can’t. You need to take care of Ammī when we get home.”
I knew she was right, but I still wanted to fuck her tight wet Musalmān twat now as much as she wanted.
I resigned myself to playing with her tits as we turned off the interstate and begin the journey through the surface streets to our house.
While I squeezed and fondled Saåīdah Zāfar’s breasts she kept lightly rubbing my Uncut Hindu Cock, to keep it hard and ready for my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, when we got home.
Saåīdah Zāfar knew just how to touch me to keep me hard and horny without going so far that it would lead to another blast of cum on her naked Musalmān skin.
Turning onto our street, less than a mile from our house, Saåīdah Zāfar went into a panic.
Her dress was on the floor, and there was no way either of us could reach it to cover up and my shorts were around my ankles and under her gown.
“What the hell are we going to do?” she asked as our house came into view.
Similar Stories from Durgesh
More from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
1: Of my Musalmān friends
As the sun shone through the wall of windows, I could not help admire the extremely beautiful young Musalmān body of my little princess sleeping next to me.
Remembering the night before, as the most beautiful woman I knew recently, had told me about her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, training her to be my new lover and to help me enjoy my life with the two of them more.
The last thing I could remember about our talking was that her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, had left some tapes for her use and had left one for her to give me if this day had ever came.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam had placed it into the player and said, “We are not to watch it until after our first night.
Well, our first night was over and guilt was starting to rise in Al Tawaħīd Al Islam.
A daughter should never surrender to lust, step or else and she is only 19-year-old with her own stepfather Hindu or else.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam had the most handsome stepfather.
My but perfect frame so close to Al Tawaħīd Al Islam that not even air could slip in between our bodies and my Uncut Hindu Lund still buried in her tender wet Panjvaqtah Namāzī young adult Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was something Al Tawaħīd Al Islam had never thought possible.
She slowly moved away from the sleeping Anant Muslimātchod Hindu next to her so as not to wake me, but as my Uncut Hindu Lund slipped out of her delicious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān warmth, I moaned somewhat, but remained asleep.
She went to the bathroom, did her morning piss and turned on the shower letting the water warm.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam brushed her teeth, and stepped into the shower.
During this time, her thoughts were on the tapes, her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān and me.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam pulled on her robe and went toward the player with the tape.
There was her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, sitting in her favorite chair.
She still kept her smile and appearance.
The sparkle in her extremely beautiful extremely loyal to me Musalmān eyes, the hue of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān skin, the total package, all in a woman that knew she always had infinite time to share her undying Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān love for her Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā.
Another Mastānī of Bājīrāo?
Another Réħānah of Subhāsh Ghaī?
Another Saåīdah Kħān of Brij Sadānā?
Another Sārah Åbdullāh of Sachin Pilot?
Another Dimple Kapadia of Rajesh Khanna?
For the next three hours, Al Tawaħīd Al Islam set while the tape ran with her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān telling her that her Daughter and she had spent the last few years learning to be.
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān told me about how she had suggested to Al Tawaħīd Al Islam about things from birth control to applying make-up and most other things a mother and daughter would talk and share.
The stunning part for me was when Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān stood up but the camera did not rise with her.
It revealed her body. During the filming of this video, she had been completely naked.
On the table beside her, was her rather large collection of toys. Her large breasts (35in with a D-cup) showed no sign of drooping, her 26in waste and that beautiful gorgeous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass at just over 36 inches of glorious sexy willing to please.
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān told me that she had shown our child clips of our pleasure time and informed her that Ammī wanted but never demanded, Al Tawaħīd Al Islam to look after me and to kick start my life if I still miss her whenever she isn’t with me.
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān wasn’t my wife.
She was my friend, Muħammad Åbdullah’s wife.
But Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān is actually more than a wife to me.
Whenever she was with me, she never allowed me separate from her.
We both were always nude entirely.
My Uncut Hindu Lund was always either into her ever tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot , in her gorgeous Musalmān ass, in her extremely beautiful Musalmān mouth or at least in her beautiful Musalmān hand.
She was always my integral part whenever she was with me.
That they were fuck tapes as well as masturbation and some group and yes even of her lesbian side.
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān said that if she knew me as well as she thought she did, I would be feeling a mix of emotions about now and that was unnecessary because everyone was an adult and consented to the world of pleasure.
The next scene was of Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān placing the camera on a tripod.
At that point, she reached out, took hold of a hand, and pulled it toward the center of the room, showing her cinematographer to be her fuck buddy me.
She looked into the camera and said Al Tawaħīd Al Islam this one is especially for you because I know how much you love to watch me suck and fuck Durgesh the Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā of us entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies whether we are married to him or not.
Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān dropped to her knees, reached out, grabbed my belt, slowly unfastened it and with one quick movement unsnapped my pants, pulling them down along with my underwear.
She wrapped her fingers around the massive Hindu shaft and started stroking with smooth gliding caressing movement.
The flowing movement of her sensual Musalmān strokes worked the excitement to a fevered pitch.
The moans from her Hindu lover were becoming more frequent and louder as she played.
She was a giving lover, and willing to show her appreciation by pleasing me if I would allow.
She licked, sucked, stoked, and with her other hand, cupped my balls all the while keeping her eyes on my face looking for the signs of a man in ecstasy, knowing that my release was going to be her pleasure.
As she cupped my nuts, she pushed forward only pulling back to where he was close to falling out of her magical lips before taking in more and more and then pulling back just to do it again.
Her favorite thing was to hum all the while keeping the sucking and licking going.
If I wasn’t careful and with extraordinary sexual prowess it was never possible that even I could last under her expert dick sucking more than 10 minutes.
Once she had her throat opened and relaxed, she would take both of her hands, place them on my hips pull my Uncut Hindu Cock from her mouth and tell me to pound her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth as hard as I could.
She was my wonderful cocksucker.
Moreover, when some overflow happened she never let it go to waste, her hands were there to catch it and she licked and cleaned her hands like a cat, savoring its pungent aroma and salty flavor.
After watching her suck my massive 9-inch Uncut Hindu Cock, she spent the next 45 minutes spreading her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot , showing how her lips would gleam and swell, contract, pull and push my Uncut Hindu Lund in and out.
When she would ejaculate, there was so much and as mine, it shot over 3 feet away.
As soon as she had finished her orgasm, she flipped over, spread her ass cheeks, showing her tight brown star to the camera and requested me to shove my Uncut Hindu Lund into the dark asshole without stopping to lube it.
At that time in the tape, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān told me to turn and look at Al Tawaħīd Al Islam lying in my bed and know that she was her final give of love and to enjoy as if Al Tawaħīd Al Islam was my fuck toy and to love her as I loved I had loved her.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam slowly walked to the bed and pulled the covers off me.
I started to moan, and kiss back.
She slowly opened her mouth and before I could react she said, “once I grab your hips Durgesh, pound me like you do my wonderful Ammī, your Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, make me choke and swallow your Uncut Hindu Cock until you cum. Make me your Uncut Hindu Cock sucker!”
She worked and enjoyed having her young Musalmān mouth filled tasting my man-meat, keeping the eye contact and trying to take as much as was fucked into her warm wet my Uncut Hindu Cock-sucking Musalmān lips.
The experience would come with the more opportunity to practice, after all no one is great naturally.
I rolled her pretty pink nipples to cause the moaning from pleasure and pain run from her throat to my cock and in turn forcing me to pound even harder between her slobbering Musalmān lips.
I was telling her how good it felt to slam my pubic hair against her nose and my balls swinging into her chin.
Once again I wondered if she would be able to handle all my cum building in my Hindu scrotum and would it catch her by surprise?
Could her willingness overload her talent and desire?
Would I cause her reel away from all that was going on in this moment or would she enjoy and become more like her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān?
I thought all of these things as well as the football scores, the stock market bulls and bears, whatever it took to keep me from Cuming, as I wanted this to last as long as possible.
When I could no longer think about anything other than cuming, I howled,
“Suck me you fucking my Uncut Hindu Cock sucker, swallow my nut. Oh, Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, my God, you are so fucking hot, my little baby. Don’t stop until you get it all, bitch!” Then it came. Arrrrrrrrgu, I came and it was as if the sky had gone dark, I saw stars flying toward me and at the same time moving away.
My knees turned to rubber and I grabbed her head to steady myself.
When I recovered, Al Tawaħīd Al Islam was holding and comforting me, smiling from ear to ear. She said,
“My goodness Durgesh, I think you enjoyed that as much as I did!” and to my surprise Al Tawaħīd Al Islam picked up the phone and ordered, “breakfast for two in the master suit, and bring some oysters as well because we will need them.”
She was amazing with her complete control as she climbed out of bed turning to kiss me before slipping into the bathroom turning on the shower and singing as her morning began.
She was just finishing in the bathroom when the steward knocked on the door.
The steward said,
“My name is Amīnah, and I am your morning steward, we did not have a chance to introduce ourselves yesterday but as we serve you we will each tell you who and what we are here to do to make your voyage aboard “Down on Me II” more pleasurable.”
At that moment, Al Tawaħīd Al Islam came out of the bathroom and replied to Amīnah saying,
“Thank you so much, but today my husband and I will be staying in and fucking all day. If we need anything, we will definitely let you know and hopefully we will see more of you!”
I was aghast at how open Al Tawaħīd Al Islam was about our plans and not a second of remorse or shame as to who we were.
Ashvinātam Sex has always happened only in private without the prying eyes of society because people have this ability to judge others.
As Al Tawaħīd Al Islam and I sat eating our breakfast, we talked about last night, her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, the tapes, the itinerary, as well as the entire crew.
I found out that Al Tawaħīd Al Islam had flown to Tampa and met the crew, made all the arrangements, chose the menus for every meal, made choices for everything except the weather, after all this was the Gulf of Mexico.
The most surprising thing was that she had paid for everything from the special account her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, had sat up for her.
I found out that Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān had the forethought to take care of her baby in every way. Her schooling and enough money to last a lifetime without ever having to ask me for anything.
That was however not a disappointment for me after all I was the one who had made all the money, although Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān had pushed me to be the very best businessman I could.
Therefore, money would never be a problem.
In addition, it did not hurt when we struck oil on not one but 786 of our land deals.
They were her special Salawāt.
I was continuously fucking her in them performing my Stavans simultaneously.
Of course, we both were nude entirely then.
However, it wasn’t anything new.
“If you want to thank me Durgesh, you can but you know what I want and how.”
During our meal, I made a decision that I would keep to myself for now at least. that would be to play with my baby and tease her by being the slow-handed lover that would take her to the point, then just stop short of taking her over the edge every time until she would be begging for total commitment.
I would make her cum but only not the biggest, never to the brink so to speak.
As she lay on the bed, I followed her steps, knelt beside her and kissed her tenderly with enough passion to allow her body to warm and start feeling desire for my touch.
I lightly placed my hand against the side of her angelic face drawing low moans from her.
Tracing down her cheek toward her delicate neck still tracing the long slops of her golden skin kissing everyplace my hand had been running my fingers down lower to her ample breasts cupping each one separately, just brushing across her nipples and tweaking each with a slight pinch to force them to stand at attention.
For my reward, she could only exhale with little coos and ahhhs.
When my mouth rested at her nipples, the salty sweet taste kept me there for a longer time than I had planned.
Her pink nipples were beginning to turn a more darkish reddish pink and appeared to strain against her skin to the point of causing discomfort but I stayed kissing, adding a little twist as well.
Her moans became loader and more rapid, yet I stayed.
When her hands reached around my head and tried to push me father down, I stopped and went up kissing her beautiful Musalmān lips again.
Much to her surprise she was not in control; I was.
When she realized that I was the one pleasing her, and she stopped trying to force me, she would receive more.
She was now aware that her Durgesh was much more than her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, had said.
I gave her tits a quick firm slap but not enough to bruise on my way to her tiny belly button.
Her squirming became uncontrollable and yet I stayed, still lingering, while kissing, and smelling her sweet but salty sweat as the beads began to build giving me full knowledge of her arousal.
Then it happened I started to move down again and she must have thought I was moving to her pubic area, I had to chuckle as I skipped down past her “V” and past her knees all the way to her feet.
As I massaged each of those lovely feet, I started moving up even slower than I moved down kissing behind each of her calves up to the bend of each knee kissing and tickling each until she began to moan out in open defiance yelling, “Please Please, Durgesh, you are driving me crazy. I need you NOW inside me!”
I froze and calmly said,
“No, you are not getting off that easy Princess.” I went back to the knees and started over.
I had never told her, “No” before and it shocked her more than anything I could have done.
The outer lips were swollen and not been touched as of yet, when they spread open the inner lips were clutching at air trying to find something to wrap around and pull into the abyss.
Slowly I worked my way up her inner thighs tasting and smelling the juices as they splashed around because of her movement.
There was just a moment when I thought about skipping back down but her body would not have stood for it.
My lips kissed her cunt lips and there it was.
She ejaculated with just one kiss.
The floodgates had opened and there was no stopping the creamy sweet cunt juice from gushing out.
I had never had a woman recently cum so much from just my lips touching hers.
I had won the battle even if she knew nothing about it.
She had passed out and when she woke, I was lying beside her.
I asked her a very simple question,
“Are you ready?”
“Durgesh, I am yours to do as you wish, without any reservations.”
I went back down to her open legs and started kissing and tonguing her slit and as I did reached up, finding her cobra hood surrounding her protruding clit.
Once I found it and lightly touched the magic button, juice started flowing and did not stop.
I felt her quiver repeatedly until she said.
“No more playing Durgesh! Fuck me, make me your Hindu cum hungry Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān sex goddess fuck over and over in every hole I have, but first stick your Uncut Hindu Lund into my Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and fuck me till I pass out and then keep fucking me until you fill it with your Hindu cum!”
When I first entered her last night it was for a quick one to end the virgin part of her life I really did not think things would come this far.
That all changed when I watched the tape her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, had made for me and I knew that this young woman, my princess, my friend Muħammad Åbdullah’s daughter would be my long-term lover, my endless lover.
When I entered her still soaking Musalmān Cunt, it was slow and steady, not the rush to get it over with, to make it loving and tender for her enjoyment.
Something she would remember for as long as she lived.
As I pushed into her little hot Musalmān fun spot, I looked into her eyes and she back at mine.
I felt the love growing stronger between the two of us.
A bond, if you will, that can never be broken.
With each Hindu stroke of mine in and out, over and over she began to understand the love, between a Hindu man and a Musalmān woman and this was the first time she allowed emotions to show, her tears were not of sadness but joy and pleasure of knowing that her first time was with someone that loved her without conditions.
She knew what her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, felt after all the questioning and fear she had hidden to please her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān.
She felt as if her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, had given her all the information as a cold fact.
Now she understood the heart of her loving Ammī and knew the love her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān, had for her and her Durgesh.
As I pushed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her tender young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot , I could not remember the last time a Musalmān Choot felt this warm and wet, as tight as this was.
I knew that Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān had told Al Tawaħīd Al Islam that I was a dominate and she had been a submissive sex goddess, but I did not know if Al Tawaħīd Al Islam was going to be a submissive for me as well.
I knew that if the training were right, she would follow in her wonderful Ammī, Al Jāsiyah Al Wahāb Bhābhījān’s path.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam came so many times that I lost track , but I was working to make sure that she would sleep for a while because if she did not rest soon, her body would give out and I would be back to no sex until she recovered.
The monster awakened.
She came one last time screaming out begging for me to fuck her faster and when she came her legs already wrapped around my waist pulling me in with each stroke of my Uncut Hindu Cock, suddenly started to squeeze me so tight I felt my breath leaving my body.
When she finished I started to cum and I pumped hard strong and as fast as I could.
When my nut filled her, I was so deep inside her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān womb, there was no movement from either of us for what seemed like an eternity and we collapsed into each other’s arms and fell asleep.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam again woke before I did and had ordered lunch.
She had started the shower, and then woke me saying.
I laughed and said.
“Well as sore as my body is, I don’t think I could wash any part of myself. So I may need your help as well.”
We showered and simply held each other as the water washed over our bodies and we just poured the body gel on our heads and let the water foam it up and wash our bodies.
It seemed the steward knew when we had finished; she knocked on the door and Al Tawaħīd Al Islam said,
Once again, Amīnah entered pushing the cart but, something had changed, or should I have said Amīnah had changed.
She had lost every stitch of clothing with nothing hidden.
I looked at Al Tawaħīd Al Islam and she burst into an uncontrolled laughter.
She was giggling as she tried to tell me what was going on, but she could not get a single word out because of her laughing.
“We were told that if you shared your bed with your lovely young Musalmān wife, we were to shed our clothing until we reached the next port and when we are out to sea it would be no clothing.” She looked at Al Tawaħīd Al Islam and said, “Isn’t that right?”
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam laughed and said,
“I had forgotten about that part. I hope you do not mind?”
I smiled and said,
Amīnah looked at the both of us and replied,
“We are here for your total pleasure no matter what it may be, day or night. Everyone of the crew is willing to participate, so feel free at any moment.”
“Well now this just got even more interesting! Right now, though I think we need to relax and rest up. At least I do but Princess if you feel the need to please, feel free!”
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam commented,
“As sore as my kitty is right now, it may be a while for me as well.”
The three of us laughed and Amīnah left us to enjoy our lunch.
After finishing our lunch, Al Tawaħīd Al Islam wanted a drink.
I left Al Tawaħīd Al Islam to relax and nap if she wanted, while I went to the bar more to stretch my legs more than for a juice.
When I got to the bar, the other steward was cleaning the room after what appeared to be a wild party.
As I walked to the bar I noticed she was nude as well and her body was as hot as Amīnah.
She looked at me and said,
“Good afternoon Mister Durgesh, my name Al Noor Al Islam and I am your afternoon steward.”
“Helloooo Al Noor Al Islam, please call me Durgesh.”
“Do you like what you see or do you want something else?”
“The sight is fantastic, but I could use a juice while I enjoy the fresh air and the view.”
Al Noor Al Islam was an excellent bartender and good company.
At this time, I was worn out to partake in anything other than a stiff drink.
We just sat and talked.
Al Noor Al Islam reminded me that we would be stopping in New Orleans shortly so everyone would be required to dress if we were going to shore or above deck.
I smiled and thanked her for the juice and the reminder.
After my juice, I went back to my cabin.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam was up and in the shower again.
I reminded her that we’re about to hit port and she said she had to leave ship for a short while and that a surprise was coming for me, but when she returned, she wanted me well rested for a night on the town.
We would be in port for two nights.
It was my turn to sleep and catch up on my energy.
That was my plan.
Plans seem to fail when needed the most.
As I slept, I felt movement in the room and slowly opened my eyes, the bright white shirt of one of the stewards was there bending over to straighten items on the table.
She was quietly arranging things, as was part of her daily responsibilities.
I watched as she turned and bent forward away from me leaving me a perfect view of her pear-shaped gorgeous Musalmān ass.
It was magnificent.
I felt the familiar pulse of blood rushing to my Hindu cockhead.
The more I watched the more the blood rushed. Suddenly she turned and caught my eyes glaring at her chest, the two-button closure that held her shirt closed.
It was Al Noor Al Islam, she smiled and said,
“I am sorry, I did not want to wake you but this is the only time we can clean the rooms. Most of our guests go ashore and we work.”
I smiled and told her,
“It’s ok, but I hope you don’t mind that I watch as you work!”
She smiled and replied,
“Would you like to pretend that we are still out to sea and I wear my other uniform?”
I sat up, reached out, as I pulled her shirt a little closer and started unbuttoning the last of the buttons on her shirt, saying,
“I would love to see that uniform.”
When the last button of her shirt unfastened, the cabin door opened, and Amīnah stepped into the room with an arm full of towels.
She smiled and said,
“Sir, we thought you had gone ashore!”
There I was lying on the bed with a hand on Al Noor Al Islam’s shirt and she smiling as she twisted her beautiful Musalmān body to let the top fall from her shoulders.
“This is much better than shore leave.”
As she sat the towels into a chair, she pulled at her own buttons.
Very quickly, three of us were on the bed and Al Noor Al Islam had reached for my rapidly growing Uncut Hindu Dick and was shoving it into her beautiful Musalmān mouth while Amīnah had climbed into the bed behind me and had her mouth pressing on my ass cheeks.
When she had enough moisture on her lips she started licking the crack of my ass and her Musalmān tongue worked its way toward my asshole.
Once Amīnah had found my brown star, she tried to force her tongue into the hole.
Before I could say, “that is an outy only!” she buried it as far as she could, forcing me to ram forward deep into Al Noor Al Islam’s throat, causing her to gag.
I came way ultimately, although I stayed hard.
After spending the last 27 hours fucking Al Tawaħīd Al Islam, I realized I had bitten off more than I could chew.
Do not let anyone bullshit you, no one can fuck and abuse their cock as I have, so I finally said,
“I need to stop and rest for a while.”
I pulled my dick out of Al Noor Al Islam’s beautiful Musalmān mouth, pushed myself off the bed and fell into the chair just as the cabin door opened once again.
Putting her hands on her hips, Al Tawaħīd Al Islam laughed,
“Well it looks as if you have been a bad Durgesh while I was away.”
Before I could answer, she said,
“Durgesh, here is your surprise, I hope you like it.” Sidestepping out of the way, her best friend in the world appeared.
“Rāħīlah Sultān, how are you? I can’t remember the last time I saw you and look at how you have grown!” I started to stand and remembered that I had nothing on, so I sat back down.
Rāħīlah Sultān was 19 years old and was about 5 inches taller than Al Tawaħīd Al Islam was but was much smaller everywhere else.
She had the blackest hair I had ever seen and behind her black-framed glasses were green Musalmān eyes that could see the soul.
Her breasts were a solid A-cup, but they were real, not store bought, so they matched slender body that she kept hidden under baggy outfits.
I had known her almost as long as I had known Al Tawaħīd Al Islam.
I knew she was my princess’s lover and that she hated men, although she had a deep emotional bond toward me, more later.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam and Rāħīlah Sultān looked toward the bed seeing the two women naked and clearly not bashful, they quickly stripped, walked toward the bed-smiling saying,
“An all Musalmān girl party would be fun, can we join you?”
I took this opportunity to lock myself in the bathroom and turned on the water filling the hot tub for the first time, climbed in and soaked, don’t ask me how long because I slept.
When I woke, it was dark outside and I was wrinkled but relaxed.
When I came out of the bath, drying Al Tawaħīd Al Islam and Rāħīlah Sultān were sitting, laughing, doing the friendship thing.
They looked at me and said they thought about waking me but I looked relaxed and our trip was just starting and how they wanted me to relax and enjoy everything.
We all dressed and decided to go ashore and have supper in the French Quarter at a nice restaurant.
We strolled down Bourbon St. as most tourists do and enjoyed a jazz club until after 3 a.m. and a leisurely stroll back toward our ship.
Al Tawaħīd Al Islam asked me,
“Durgesh, do you mind if I sleep in my stateroom with Rāħīlah Sultān tonight?
I quickly answered,
“No honey, I could use a break.”
The rest of our walk we just held hands and breathe in the salt air.
I smiled with Al Noor Al Islam and Amīnah on my mind.
Are they still awake and should I find out?
Well, they both were available.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
1: Of my Musalmān friends
Al Raħmān Al Åbbās family
Durgesh Al Saåīdah Al Zāfar
Durgesh Al Asmā Al Salmān
Durgesh Al Asmā Al SalmānNādirah Åzīm called out as her husband and I walked into the kitchen.
“Okay, boys, I’m heading out now!”
“I’ll see you later, honey.” Nādirah Åzīm said, kissing Muħammad Raħmān as she began to step out the door.
Before she walked out, she turned to me:
“And you, ever young Hindu man. You better not get into trouble with my extremely beautiful naughty Musalmān lady friends while we’re gone tonight. They are sex starved and they may drain you out of your so called infinite Hindu sexual prowess even. I don’t prohibit you to satisfy them sexually if they need it. Nevertheless I’ve warned you how ravenous they are sexually. Watch yourself not to be drained out completely.”
Muħammad Raħmān laughed,
“Hey, Al Nādirah Al Åzīm, you are warning my Hindu stepfather as if you yourself need his skills after you return.”
Nādirah Åzīm smiled teasingly at her naughty husband.
“Maybe your joke come true sometimes, Muħammad Raħmān. Don’t kid me thus every now and then. I know you believe Durgesh and I too have extramarital affair despite our constant denials.”
Muħammad Raħmān laughed.
“I can’t believe Durgesh is so available to you and you are still loyal to me.”
“Are you impotent?” Nādirah Åzīm teased him.
“You know I’m not.” Muħammad Raħmān smiled, “Nevertheless, I’m not Durgesh after all. He is the Sex god, everyone believes it.”
Nādirah Åzīm didn’t reply Muħammad Raħmān.
She turned to me once more,
“We might not come back until very late or early tomorrow morning.”
“I know, I know, Nādirah Åzīm.” I started, “I’ll just be here serving your needy beautiful Musalmān lady friends. However, they aren’t ravenous. Their husbands leave them ravenous.”
“Okay, my over human Hindu stepfather in law, you are already called the Hindu Al Buåūlatul Muslimāt. They claim we entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies are having sex with you actually, however much we deny it. Nobody believes us even a bit. It’s all right. Enjoy them. They really need sex from you. Their husbands don’t take care of them optimum sexually.”
“Because they suspect them.”
“And aren’t they right? Don’t my entire beautiful Musalmān lady friends ravenously have sex with you?”
“Nādirah Åzīm, if their husbands had provided them it they would have never needed me.”
“Why don’t you tell them it? Aren’t they your own friends? They pay you monthly heavy amounts as your Sex Therapy sessions with their extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān wives. Isn’t it a fact that they never want their wives cured? They actually want to get rid of them sexually.”
“Al Nādirah Al Åzīm.”
“Isn’t it a fact that today Musalmīn are tired of Islam actually? They have surrendered completely to the present materialistic western culture? They don’t want to waste their precious time in worthless sexual activities with their wives. They want to earn money instead. Their sexual responsibilities to their wives are burden for them. That’s why they have friendship with you.”
“You are not Sex Therapist for your filthy rich Musalmān friends actually.” Nādirah Åzīm blurted out furiously, “They call you that to deceive you. Actually they use you as an extremely successful Hindu male prostitute for their over sexy Musalmān houseladies. Isn’t it true? Tell me you don’t understand it. You aren’t that foolish yourself. Isn’t it?”
Muħammad Raħmān held her hand.
“It’s alright, Nādirah Åzīm. Our entire present social system is rotten absolutely now. It’s true cure is Islam. But there isn’t true Islam anywhere itself. Instead of fighting with non Muslims for Årab Imperialism if we Musalmīn…”
“Let me tell your over human Hindu stepfather that he must never think his filthy rich Musalmān friends are innocent. They are not. They want their Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives to have extramarital sex with Durgesh so that they are free to do their corporate business more successfully. I hate these hypocrisy oriented swines.”
Muħammad Raħmān smiled at me,
“Sorry, Dad. She is angry now. You know she respects you but she can’t bear your hypocrite Musalmān friends.”
“I understand, Muħammad Raħmān. My plans were canceled at the last minute anyway. By the way, where were you guys going again?”
“We’ll be at Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān’s. She’s hosting a party with a bunch of people you may or may not know. Nothing you need to worry about, I guess.” Nādirah Åzīm said flatly. “Now goodbye, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she headed out the door.
I smiled sarcastically.
Nādirah Åzīm wasn’t so innocent herself as she tried to appear to everyone.
Why the hell otherwise she called me ‘sweetie’?
I was her father in law step or else.
I wasn’t her junior or equal even.
She never accepted me her father in law.
She still respected Muħammad Raħmān’s real father, my friend, Al Muħammad Al Åbbās.
Al Muħammad Al Åbbās was a sophisticated innocent multimillionaire that was too ethical to understand his wives sexual needs.
I took advantage of his generosity and fucked his entire extremely beautiful Musalmān wives one by one.
She could not understand why Al Muħammad Al Åbbās and Al Muħammad Al Raħmān both thought I was innocent and their immensely loyal family friend.
Muħammad Raħmān smiled.
“You don’t know anything. Durgesh Dad isn’t fucking our entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies. Our entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies are fucking Durgesh Dad instead. If Durgesh Dad isn’t keeping it secret…”
“What secret?” Nādirah Åzīm blurted out furiously, “What is secret there? Your youngest sister, Al Sāmiyah Al Raħmān’s eighteenth birthday hasn’t too old to forget. Durgesh inaugurated your sister. She celebrated inaugural honeymoon with Durgesh for complete one year. In that inaugural party didn’t Durgesh fuck every beautiful Musalmān lady invited there? Didn’t he fuck your beautiful Musalmān houseladies too with immense fanfare openly? Even the videos were prepared of the entire celebration and released with great pride. ‘Durgesh inaugurates Al Sāmiyah Al Raħmān at her eighteenth birthday, the youngest family member of Al Raħmān Al Åbbās family’. What is secret there I say?”
Muħammad Raħmān watched his twenty-eight years old extremely beautiful wife with immense sarcasm.
“And what about your own younger sister’s birthday? Didn’t Durgesh Dad inaugurate your younger sister Al Saħar Al Åzīm too? Didn’t your Abbū Åzīm Sāħab himself arranged for her inaugural honeymoon with Durgesh Dad? If our family does something it’s wrong and if your family does the same thing it’s right?”
“Certainly not.” Nādirah Åzīm said coldly, “I couldn’t stop Abbū in Al Saħar’s event but did I let my Abbū to inaugurate myself? Did I too celebrate my inaugural honeymoon with your Durgesh Dad?”
Muħammad Raħmān could not answer it.*
His parents were going to a Halloween party at their friend’s house, and his Ammī had left early to help get set up.
They were apparently going her friend Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān’s from work, and my head immediately shot to images of Al Raħīmah Al Raħmān who came over almost every week and I knew pretty well.
This Nādirah Åzīm’s friend was an absolute bombshell.
She was in her 30s, but she was incredibly fit and she was one of the hottest Musalmān women I’d ever recently met.
I’d imagined fucking her many times over the course of our acquaintance, and every time I met her, she winked at me, seemingly knowing something I didn’t.
I walked upstairs to my room, trying to picture what slutty costume she’d be wearing for Halloween, dreaming about one day being able to hit that.
She was married, though.
“Too bad,” I thought to myself.
I was set for a pretty interesting day with Nādirah Åzīm’s beautiful Musalmān lady friends, and reserved myself to messing around in my room, when after a few hours, I heard the phone ring.
I walked out of my room to get the phone, when the ringing stopped.
I stepped down the stairs and saw Muħammad Raħmān had answered it. I overheard what Muħammad Raħmān was saying.
“Are you sure you need me?” Muħammad Raħmān asked the voice on the phone, probably some work friend on the phone.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s a pretty big account. We can’t afford to have anything happen. I’ll come down there tonight. Just let me get my things in order. I can be there in a few hours.” He continued, replying to a voice I couldn’t hear.
Apparently Muħammad Raħmān’s work needed him for something.
Muħammad Raħmān hung up the phone and turned around, seeing me on the staircase.
“Dad! There you are!” he said, walking toward me.
“What’s up, Muħammad Raħmān?” I asked, wondering what had happened.
“Oh, nothing. A client got cold feet and wants to be rewalked through everything. I have to go down to the property in Copperopolis. It’s a few hours away. I probably won’t be back until late tomorrow night.”
“Oh nonsense, really? That sucks… What about your party with Nādirah Åzīm?” I asked, wondering what he planned to do.
“Yeah, about that. I was gonna ask you if you’d go for me and tell your over ethical immensely conservative Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān daughter in law, your Bahū Bégum, that claims she is too ethical to have sex even with you the supreme successful Sex Therapist nowadays. Haha. She is crazy. She thinks I really believe it. Even if she is really as foolish as she really never enjoy the unique sexual bliss only you can provide I don’t think you too are as a damn fool as to leave her without fucking until now. She is herself too beautiful to leave her without. Go fuck her and tell her I couldn’t come. I know she’ll just wanna leave if she has to be there by herself, but I could tell she was looking forward to it. Would you mind going there for me, and staying for a bit so she can enjoy herself? I know it’s Nādirah Åzīm’s friends and it’s kind of a drag, but you’d be doing me a huge favor.” Muħammad Raħmān explained.*
Asmā Salmān reached down and rubbed my Uncut Hindu Dick, “”Well the boys have all left for the airport to get back for their finals and the wedding party is either passed out drunk in their rooms or…:otherwise occupied. It’s just you me and Saåīdah Zāfar who’s over there, helping the DJ pack up. We have to get all the wedding gifts home.”
Asmā Salmān gestured to the mountainous stack of brightly wrapped boxes of all shapes and sizes that overflowed the two gift tables we had set up.
I looked at the stack of presents and nodded.
“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll all fit in the Mercedes. Maybe we should have brought the Land Rover.”
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife refrained from saying I told you so, but isn’t quite able to keep the smug look off her face.
However, if we had brought the Land Rover, I would be sober, or we would be spending the night in the hotel, since she refuses to drive it.
“Saåīdah Zāfar, stop flirting with him, and get over here.”, I shouted across the room at my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter, who was still wearing her bridesmaid dress, making her look a lot older than her tender age of 18 years.
The dress was a bright crimson floor length gown, with a slit up the left leg that stopped just short of paradise.
The bodice was strapless, sleeveless with a deep V, and it squeezed and lifted making even the smallest bust look mouth watering.
The gown had rhinestones encircling the waist, creating the illusion of a belt.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, told me the dress was so tight none of the bridesmaids could wear even the skimpiest of thongs, without having unsightly lines ruining the look.
I was very excited about that, until I realized my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter would also be going commando.
When I first saw the dress, the bodice and upper part of the skirt looked to be painted on, and then it flared out big enough to hide a person underneath. It was so tight and form fitting, that I asked my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, if it was painted on.
“No, silly, it warps around the wearer and there are several bra type fasteners to hold it closed. When it’s not wrapped around a body, it opens to be the size of a blanket.
“Durgesh!” Saåīdah Zāfar cried in whiny teenage voice.
She handed the DJ a piece of paper.
She walked over to me.
Before she could voice her complaint to me about being embarrassed, I told her,
“Go to the front desk and ask them to send a couple of bellhops in here with a few luggage racks, then show them what to load.”
Turning to My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, I said, “Pull the car up the side door down the hall, so we don’t have to walk across the entire hotel. That should save time. Meanwhile I need to change.”
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, turned and left as I picked up my gym bag.
“Durgesh, why didn’t you tell me to bring a change of clothes?” Saåīdah Zāfar asked.
“Because I figured you’d be going home with the DJ.” I reply teasing her.
“Durgesh!” she said as I walked away laughing.
It was harder than I thought to get out of a tuxedo and into a pair of gym shorts and tee shirt when My Uncut Hindu Prick is rocking my world.
I finished the task, without setting any speed records, and then headed out to meet my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, to load the car.
Damn Al Muħammad Al Zāfar.
He left his wife and daughter to me because he had to attend a very important business meeting.
“But Zāfar,” I started to protest.
But he winked at me,
“You are my family Sex Therapist. Your Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān is your client. She is your responsibility now, not mine.”
I slapped him playfully.
As I walked by the bar, I stopped in and ordered three coffees to go.
It was already 1 a.m. and we had a two-hour drive home.
Moreover, I knew if my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter, or I fell asleep, my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, would be pissed.
If she fell asleep, we’d be dead.
When I arrived, there was already a huge pile of gifts to load.
“Thank God I played a lot a lot of Tetris” I joked to My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, as I began to carefully load the gifts to make sure nothing was damaged.
After almost 40 minutes of loading the car, all the gifts were packed in but only the driver and front passenger seat were left open.
One package was tall and long but thin, and it separated the driver and passenger seats leaving only a few inches open close to the roof.
“Good job genius, now we have two seats for three people.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said condescendingly. “Where’s Saåīdah Zāfar going to sit?”
I stood up stretching my back and looked to see if there was any way to shift things around to free up just one more seat.
Throwing up my hands in despair, I told My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, “There’s no way to fit her in the car.”
“How about we tie some stuff to the roof?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said.
I shook my head.
“I don’t know what’s in the boxes and I don’t want anything damaged before it’s unwrapped.”
One of the bellhops who had been helping,..
Well, truth be told he was staring at My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, and daughter, more than helping,
But I really couldn’t blame him.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, was still one sexy lady, especially for a mom of a 5 extremely beautiful daughters, the oldest being 25.
Hell she always is carded when her daughters go out for drinks.
And my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter, his beautiful daughter. She always was an attractive girl, but during her teen years, she blossomed into a real heartthrob.
She was 5’4” and I swore 3′ of that was legs.
She had an hourglass figure with 10 extra minutes just to make sure.
She had been asked several times to be a model by talent scouts, but she wanted to use her excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān brains, not her equally excellent beautiful Musalmān body.
During the planning for the wedding I overheard My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, told the dress maker her measurements, 36B-24-36, and I remember thinking My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter is built like a brick shit house, and was never ashamed.
Well, why the hell should I?
The truth was the truth after all.
Al Muħammad Al Zāfar was more an ultramodern Westerner than he was a Musalmān.
Damn the bastard.
Then I saw her in this dress.
I was jealous of every person who has to see my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter in this dress, because they could all imagine stripping it off her young sexy body and doing things to her no father should ever know about.
“What did you say?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, asked the bellboy bringing me out of my reverie.
“When my parents helped me move to college, he said, “we had a similar problem. There wasn’t enough room in the car for mom Dad and me. So I drove and mom rode on my father’s lap.”
“Wasn’t it weird to have your mom sit on your father’s lap when you were present and driving the car…?” Saåīdah Zāfar asked the young man, pausing for his name.
“Ħamīd”, he offered his hand smiling at her in a way that made me want to punch him in his face. “Not really, it was actually one of the best road trips I’ve ever taken. It brought mom and Dad closer than ever before.”
His smile was really beginning to creep me out, so I stepped in front of Saåīdah Zāfar and said,
“Well, that won’t work. My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, needs to drive, so she can’t sit on Saåīdah Zāfar’s lap.”
“Maybe Saåīdah Zāfar could drive and Your Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān could sit on your lap.”
“That would work, if Saåīdah Zāfar hadn’t failed her driving test four times.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, told Ħamīd.
“I guess there’s only one solution.” Ħamīd said.
Ħamīd probably wouldn’t have suggested it if his brain wasn’t being preserved in alcohol. “Missy…Mom…Ma’am …” Ħamīd must have been drunker than I thought.
He wasn’t even sure what to call my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife,
“Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān drives and Saåīdah Zāfar sits on my lap.” I completed his sentence furiously.
“EWWW Durgesh…” she cried at the suggestion.
“Look honey…” I started to say, wanting to get my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter away from the drunken leeches that were coming back from the local bars and leering at her, as they slowly walked into the hotel, but Ħamīd interrupted.
“Saåīdah Ma’am, I felt the same way. But by the time the ride was over, my mom and my father were closer than ever. They visit me at least once a week, and I look forward to their visits. I’m sure it’ll do the same thing for you and Durgesh Sir.”
“Fuck it, I’m tired and want to get this dress off and get to bed. Let’s go.” Saåīdah Zāfar shouted.
Ħamīd gave me another of his creepy smiles as I got into the passenger seat and patted my lap for my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter to join me.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, got in the car and started it up.
Looking over at her, I could barely see the top of her head over the package.
Once my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter was settled in my lap, I reached out to shut the door, and I heard Ħamīd said,
“Have fun, Sir.” and then winked at me.
“What the fuck, is he queer,” I wondered as I shut the door.
We drove off into the night as I struggled to get the seat belt over us.
I was having trouble because a pillow was stopping me from putting the tab into the buckle.
I was about to say something when I realized that the pillow was actually my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughters breast.
I froze in place not sure what to do.
Saåīdah Zāfar sat there not moving, as I let go of the seat belt realizing there was no way it would reach around two bodies.
Then the thought occurred to me that her knees must be pressed into the dashboard, so I reached under the seat to slide it back, forgetting about her dress.
All I found was a smooth soft supple leg as my hand got tangled in the material of the dress.
“Are you two okay over there?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, called out as we pulled onto the fairly empty interstate.
“Yeah Ammī, we’re fine.” Saåīdah Zāfar said with some amusement in her voice.
“How about you, honey, are you okay?” she asked me.
Saåīdah Zāfar twisted to look at me as I tried to formulate a reply and untangle my hand from her dress at the same time.
“I think Durgesh’s going nighty nice”, Saåīdah Zāfar said winking at me.
“He better not, we still have to unload the car when we get home, and you know Durgesh. Once asleep nothing will wake him up.”
“I’m awake,” I said, “just lost in thought.”
“If either of you need a break, let me know. And I can stop in a rest area. Otherwise I plan on driving straight through.” Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān said.
Suddenly the car swerved to avoid something in the road, and Saåīdah Zāfar in her silk dress was sliding all over my lap.
The friction of her young adult Musalmān body on that part of mine, had the expected results.
Saåīdah Zāfar started to rock her hips, to get back into a comfortable position, which increased the attention my trouser snake was paying to the situation.
I tried to shift my hips so her body wouldn’t be rubbing against me, which only caused more rubbing.
“Durgesh, what’s that, it wasn’t there before?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter asked.
“What’s what honey?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, asked.
“It’s nothing darling.”, I said not wanting My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, or daughter to know I was getting a hard on.
To My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, I said, “I had something in my pocket that was making Saåīdah Zāfar uncomfortable. If she lifts up off me for a second, I can fix it.
I wasn’t shocked at how tan and toned her thigh was, however.
I had enjoyed millions of them already, and still enjoying.
My Bhogchakr managed to produce always such conditions.
Holding herself up I could easily see the muscles in her leg supporting her.
That wasn’t what I needed to see at that time, it just encouraged me to grow some more.
Grateful for the way her gown draped over my lap, I slid my hands into my shorts and forced my swollen Uncut Hindu Dick to rest between my legs.
Before the adjustment was complete, one of her hands slipped and she collapsed onto me.
Her ass could feel my hand and her head whipped around to look at me realizing that the lump she felt was the one that was visiting her mother’s womb nowadays for her Sex Therapy.
“Umm Saåīdah Zāfar…” I said not sure what to say in this situation.
She quickly lifted herself up letting me free my hand, but my Uncut Hindu Dick was still pressing into her derriere.
Instead of trying to position herself for minimal contact, she seemed to be intentionally using her gorgeous Musalmān ass to encourage it to grow more.
What a family.
She too was enjoying it instead of being embarrassed.
She spread her legs even wider so I could see almost her entire leg.
My Uncut Hindu Dick was beginning to throb under her, and Saåīdah Zāfar gasped as it started to poke up into her soft round Musalmān globes of flesh.
Saåīdah Zāfar had been sitting mostly upright this whole time, but now that my Uncut Hindu Dick and her gorgeous Musalmān ass were getting so well acquainted, she leaned back against me, and at that Moment, I realized that the gown was not designed to protect modesty.
Looking down over her shoulder, I could clearly see the swell of her breasts and even part of her areola.
That was all it took.
My Uncut Hindu Dick sprang and became rather insistent that it be freed.
My hands involuntarily wrapped around her waist.
Saåīdah Zāfar smiled at her victory, took my right hand in hers and put it on her inner thigh under the gown.
When I felt the forbidden flesh, I bent my head down and took a deep breath of her sweet smelling hair as my Hindu male body began to react like a man’s body instead of a family friend’s.
My hand started to rub and caress her beautiful smooth Musalmān thigh, as my mouth found her neck and began to kiss it.
“Mmmm” she moaned as I lightly nipped her tender skin.
She offered no resistance so far, even though part of her brain was screaming that this is not something a family friend should be doing to his friend’s daughter, but a bigger part of her was saying shut the fuck up and see how far you can go with this sexy young adult Musalmān teenager.
My Hindu male body shuddered in pleasure.
Saåīdah Zāfar brought both her hands to her chest and began to squeeze her breasts.
I was encouraged by watching her.
I slid my hand up and found her pussy.
I was shocked it was so wet, and I started to caress it with my fingers.
“What feels nice?” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, asked.
“Durgesh is massaging me, and it feels wonderful. I don’t want him to stop.” Saåīdah Zāfar said as she took my other hand and placed it on her soft firm breast.
“You better give me a massage when we get home, buster, or you won’t be getting what you want.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, teased me as we continued down the interstate.
“I will honey. I will.” I replied as my hand freed my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s right tit from her gown.
I just sit there mesmerized at the view of her perky young Musalmān tit flesh.
“You guys know I’m here, right?” Saåīdah Zāfar said. “I really don’t want to know about your bedroom stuff. That’s gross.”
I chuckled as I began to rub her exposed nipple, and My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, replied “Oh grow up Saåīdah Zāfar! Sex between two people who love each other is natural and normal, as you’ll learn one day.”
“Oh, I’ve had sex Ammī.”, My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter announced, as she pulled down her top freeing her other breast for me to play with, “I just don’t want to picture you two fucking.”
I knew her well enough to tell she was shocked that Saåīdah Zāfar wasn’t a virgin, and she was going to let the subject drop for now.
She would wait until she was alone with Saåīdah Zāfar and not so tired and then there would be hell to pay.
I felt no such restraint.
“You’re not a Virgin?” I asked in shock as I slid a finger into her pussy.
I was feeling mixed emotions at the Moment,
I was upset that some dirty nasty boy had used My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter for his pleasure, but on the other hand, it meant that maybe, just maybe she wasn’t a cock tease and I just might get to fuck her.
“OH Durgesh be real. I haven’t been a virgin since 9th grade.”
My Uncut Hindu Cock leapt in joy on hearing these words, and I slipped two fingers into her pussy, feeling her juices begin to freely flow. “So you’re a little slut.” I said teasing her as I pinched one nipple and then the other.
I could feel the atmosphere in the car change with those words.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, got very tense and stopped speaking.
Saåīdah Zāfar had basically invited me to fuck her, and to let her know I accepted, I pushed a third finger into her folds and began to finger fuck her.
As we drove down the highway in silence, I kept fingering her and playing with her exposed tits.
I yanked my hands off my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter cautious that somehow she had seen what I was doing.
I was trying to form a reply but Saåīdah Zāfar beat me too it.
“The 18 wheeler next to us. He’s been pacing us for a few miles and it’s making me nervous.”
I looked out my window and sure enough, there’s a tractor-trailer right next to us.
I look up at the long bearded Musalmān driver who gave me a thumbs up and a big smile.
I realized he’s been watching my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter and I fool around.
“I think he noticed your daughter, especially the way the gown enhances her.” I said to my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān.
Saåīdah Zāfar blushed when she realized she’s not only exposed to me but to any other travelers on the road.
Hurriedly she covered her breasts and tried to push my hand out of her dripping wet Musalmān pussy.
“Fucking pervert.” My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, said and slammed on the brakes to let him pass us.
Then she moved behind the truck to protect her daughter’s modesty.
“I’m going to pull over at the next rest stop. Let him get a few miles ahead of us, and I need to use the restroom.”
“Okay dear.” I said, “I can stretch my legs.”
We pull into a rest area.
The truck side was packed full of big rigs, but the car area was empty.
No one was moving around.
We had the place to ourselves.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, parked the car and shut it off.
I pulled my hand out of my friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter and she adjusted her gown to hide her leg.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, walked over to our side of the car, opened the car door and helped Saåīdah Zāfar out.
I climbed out with a groan, not realizing how stiff my legs had gotten.
“I’m going to take a walk and work out the kinks in my legs” I said, my face reddening at my words.
I hoped it escaped notice since we had parked in a dark area of the rest area.
“I’ll walk with Durgesh.” Saåīdah Zāfar said taking my hand in hers.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān, nodded, turned and headed towards the bathrooms.
She looked at it gently stroking it and I leaned back letting her.
She kissed the tip, then took the whole thing into her young beautiful adult Musalmān mouth and began to give me one of the most erotic blowjobs I ever experienced recently.
She wasn’t all that talented, but being half in the bag, combined with the multiple taboos made it so much better.
My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter made up for in enthusiasm what she lacked in experience.
I was wrong.
It was stiff before, now it was hard.
I didn’t want to waste my load in her mouth.
I pulled myself out of her warm mouth and pulled her up.
Decades of pent up passion were focused in this kiss.
The duel our tongues fought made the sword fight between Inigo Montoya and the Dread Pirate Roberts look like a square dance.
Regrettably, I broke the kiss and spun Saåīdah Zāfar around, so she could lean up against the wall.
I squatted down and with my hands, I pulled open her dress at the split.
I, even the utmost experienced utmost successful Sex Therapist couldn’t deny it.
I couldn’t resist.
I buried my face in My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s daughter’s sopping wet Musalmān pussy and began to kiss it all over.
The clacking of heels on cement announced My friend, Muħammad Zāfar’s wife, Al Asmā Al Salmān Bhābhījān’s imminent arrival and our probable getting caught. But I just couldn’t stop now.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
A few moments passed, and I began the awkward process of helping her off the table.
My member slipped from her lips and she automatically clinched herself in response, seemingly missing my presence.
She smiled again, and this time I saw it.
I grinned back.
She was more propped by me than anything, and I helped her over to the living room, where we both collapsed onto the sofa.
I kissed her softly but repeatedly at her cheek and lips, and she managed a few kisses in return.
Arundhatī Joshī and I didn’t really talk.
We just quietly recovered together.
Eventually, she told me she had to go on to bed.
We both climbed the stairs together.
At the top of the stairs, we faced each other.
It was dark.
It was quiet.
I brought her into my arms, and we embraced.
I could feel her exhale completely in my arms and press into me.
She could feel my strong arms wrap and cuddle her.
She eased back from me.
She had to go to her bedroom.
I looked down at her, and her face started to mine.
Our lips met and neither held back.
We kissed deeply.
When we finally parted, we both smiled to one another.
We said goodnight.*
Arundhatī Joshī awoke groggily.
She struggled to orient, as she could sense something was happening to her.
She started understanding there was a rocking motion in the bed.
Even though at first she was dazed, she realized there was movement at her vagina.
She felt sex there.
Was she dreaming?
She almost spoke my name, but she then gathered that she was in her own bed and in her room.
She searched for her bearings.
As she thought and looked around, it hit her.
She was on her side and the pushing was coming from behind her.
It was Vinod Sharmā.
It was Saturday morning, and Vinod Sharmā had entered her and was having sex with her.
Arundhatī Joshī fought the initial impulse to stop him.
Then, she worried inwardly for a response.
She was shocked and just speechless.
As she started to speak over her shoulder to Vinod Sharmā, she heard him grunt heavily.
He stiffened and she knew instantly what this meant.
He climaxed intensely.
He had gotten off strongly, she concluded.
But, she found herself much less than thrilled.
Right away, she felt guilty knowing why she wasn’t thrilled.
First, it was because it had mostly happened unbeknownst to her.
Mostly though, there was a guilt.
It wasn’t I there with her, nor the excitement she felt for me.
Vinod Sharmā stroked at her hair.
“Wow. That was great.”
She didn’t move or speak.
His voice had been shaky before.
Vinod Sharmā caught his breath and tried to compose himself better.
He had not acted as he intended.
He awoke with an erection, and he immediately had become concerned about keeping it.
It wasn’t her fault, but he simply did not feel the attraction or desire that he once had for her years ago.
He had felt to her first, thinking he’d stimulate her awake, and then he had touched wetness at her lips.
He had thought her already aroused.
When he had put himself to her to rub her, he had pushed on into her and started.
“I got carried away.” He tried to explain.
She just nodded back without words spoken.
Vinod Sharmā cuddled her, and he brushed at her hair.
“You are a beautiful and special woman.” he resolved to make things better even if it meant getting some kind of prescription. “I may not always show it, but I do appreciate you.”
Arundhatī Joshī was absolutely stunned.
She reached a hand over her shoulder to him and squeezed at him.
He started breathing heavier and in moments he was snoring.
Arundhatī Joshī‘s mind started reeling.
As much as she hated to think it, she knew she wished he hadn’t said those things.
Could he sense she was drifting away from him?
Is this why on this morning, of all times, he had decided to share like that with her.
He never did that.
When she was sure he was sleeping again, she slipped from the bed.
She went downstairs to make coffee, have a cup and clear her head.
What a weekend.
In a hungover and emotional fog, Arundhatī Joshī rummaged about in the kitchen, made coffee and sat down with a cup.
It was hard to know where to begin with sorting this out.
A couple of things she was certain about.
First, she was crazy and stupid to permit what had happened with me.
There was no understating just how wrong and unintelligent her choices had been.
But just as clear to her was how she felt.
She felt deeply and convincingly emotional for me and excited by me.
Any number of thoughts, from Friday night’s party to Saturday morning to Saturday night, showed her how much she cared about me.
As she sat there, she knew she felt such a love for me.
She squeezed her eyes and released them at her next thought, as she regretted just how truly she also felt about me as a man.
From her looking to me when we kissed Friday night to when she first surrendered to me in bed Saturday morning, there was no denying that she thought of me now as a man.
And, as so very wrong as it was, she thought of me as a lover.
I had brought feelings and sensations from within her she could not ever having remembered felt.
I aroused her, thrilled her, and consumed her.
Our time together and the way I had been with her had combined to make her feel something she had never felt to this extent.
The feeling included intense desire.
I made her feel that she wanted me badly and needed me.
And not just emotionally, but she needed to feel me physically and to make love to me.
Arundhatī Joshī felt at her core a need to give herself to me.
She had not ever felt this way.
She briefly wondered whether she didn’t need to just break away from both of the men in the house and try to ascertain her thoughts more objectively.
The things she was thinking were so unusual and extraordinary that perhaps she just needed time.
She smirked wondering if she even wanted to be away from me in order to decide.
Arundhatī Joshī looked up startled from her thoughts, seeing me pop into the kitchen.
She beamed when she saw how very happy I was to see her there.
She couldn’t help but show how happy she was to see me too.
“Good morning,” she said it in a low full voice.
Her face glowed.
I came straight up to where she was sitting, and I bent to where I could hug her.
I kissed her deeply and passionately.
After some passionate deep kissing, she pulled back.
“Wait, wait.” She stopped me.
I was standing next to where she was seated and I was very aroused.
I started dragging at my shorts, and she gave quick shakes of her head, indicating ‘no’.
It didn’t slow me in the least.
My hand drew my penis from my shorts in front of her face, and when she realized just what I was doing, she visibly tightened.
“Wait Durgesh, I don’t know. We should talk.”
I figured she was just acting coy, much like the night before.
I held my thick Bachhalyā erection in her face.
“No, not right now, Durgesh,” she said it pleadingly, conveying perhaps that the choice was mine.
I grinned down at her, and she gave me a torn look back.
She dropped her view to my hand.
I was fully engorged and there at her face.
There was a wanton aspect of it being right in front of her like that.
I edged my fist just a bit up and then just barely back, and she watched intently.
Her face didn’t move to avoid me, but her eyes looked back to me questioningly.
“Aw, c’mon.” My tone made her seem unfair. “Are you serious? Are you going to leave me this way?”
My hand tilted her face to me and I bent and kissed her again.
She watched my face as I stood back straight, and I told her,
I brought my cock in my hand and I put it to her lips.
Once more she tried to pull back, but I cradled her cheek and lodged its Bachhalyā thickness at her Joshī Brāhmañ lips. … She opened her beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth to me while looking in my Bachhalyā male eyes.
She reluctantly started to suck on me and move her head.
She felt my combined hardness and smoothness, and she started to react between her legs.
After a few more moments, the dynamic shifted.
It went from my urging to instead her moving her mouth on me.
Her head swayed and her mouth and lips massaged at my thick Bachhalyā cock.
We both knew she was getting more into it.
Much more into it.
‘How can I be this excited again? Is this really because of me?’ She asked herself as she felt both our urgency.
Soon I was groaning continuously, and she was humming.
Naughtily, Arundhatī Joshī anticipated what it’d feel like when I started releasing into her mouth.
She drifted a hand between her legs and started feverishly stroking there.
“WHAT?” The word is screamed and Arundhatī Joshī cannot understand at first what has happened.
She saw Vinod Sharmā standing with his face flushed and eyes wide.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” “WH… .”
She yanked her head back and I started frantically trying to pull my shorts up.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I was desperately saying to Vinod Sharmā, and everything seemed to slow down to Arundhatī Joshī as it unfolded.
It was almost as if she were witnessing something she was not actually present at.
The sequence was deliberate and surreal.
Vinod Sharmā grabbed his head with both hands and screamed.
He looked over to the counter where the kitchen knives were at, and then looked straight at me.
I shouted, “No, no, no,” as Vinod Sharmā started lunging to where the knives were.
Suddenly, I moved toward the counter, too.
Before I can take a second step though, I froze in place.
My stopping in place riveted Arundhatī Joshī‘s attention back to Vinod Sharmā.
Vinod Sharmā had reached the counter, but unnaturally he ricocheted off the counter and collapsed to the floor.
When he laid out on the floor, he was staring straight up and he was clutching the left side of his chest.
He coughed and choked, and just as suddenly as he had started, hd completely stopped.
Then, he lay there motionless.
“CALL 911! CALL 911!” Arundhatī Joshī heard me shouting it, but she couldn’t move.
She saw his eyes, and she knew he was gone.
She also knew she would never, ever get that sight of him, and what she had caused, out of her mind.
The next several days blurred by, and she could barely function, rarely talked, and just felt deadened to an extent.
The authorities did inquire, and she told the truth.
Of course, it all made sense.
She and Vinod Sharmā had had sex earlier that morning, and they had drank most of the weekend.
She didn’t see it coming, and she absolutely couldn’t believe he died of a massive heart attack on their kitchen floor.
Everyone felt sympathy for her.
Everyone saw that she was beside herself, apparently from such grief.
She had told the truth alright, but she didn’t tell the whole truth.
There was nothing asked about she and me.
There was nothing to ask since everyone knew we were friends, and both had suddenly lost Vinod Sharmā.
So, there was no mention made of the fact that Vinod Sharmā had heard strange sounds coming from the kitchen that morning.
It was never told how he hurried down the stairs, already concerned as he feared someone must have been hurt from the kind of sounds he was hearing.
He had rushed into the doorway of the kitchen, and it had been as if he had struck a horrible wall that stopped him in his tracks.
There he saw his wife and me.
At first, I looked like I wasn’t the matter, because I was standing straight and seemed animated.
Everything changed when he focused to where his wife was seated at our kitchen table.
She was sitting facing our table and angled to where Vinod Sharmā was standing, but Arundhatī Joshī‘s shoulders and face was turned to her left side.
Her right hand appeared to be in her lap, and her right hand was clasping at something.
Positioned very close to her left side was my torso and waist.
Vinod Sharmā had fixed his attention to his beautiful wife’s face.
Her mouth was open and her lips wrapped a thick and erect ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund that was pumping urgently between her Joshī Brāhmañ lips.
One look was all it took to show Arundhatī Joshī was moving her face towards me as fervently as my hips were bucking into her face.
Her expression was one of exquisite pleasure.
There was an onslaught of friends and family around in the days between Vinod Sharmā’s death and his funeral.
Everyone was very supportive.
The entire time passed as a flash to Arundhatī Joshī.
Then, just as suddenly as the friends and family had gathered, it seemed they quickly dispersed.
By the time of the evening after Vinod Sharmā’s funeral, the house had cleared out.
The house was still and quiet, and Arundhatī Joshī and I decided we had to go have dinner to decompress.
Arundhatī Joshī did most of the talking.
She spoke in a detached and halting manner, as if trying to explain to herself and to me.
I heard beneath her words a desperate coping of sorts.
“It was a lapse to be sure, a horrible and terrible lapse, but a lapse.” She had sounded scared but also as if warming to her justification as well.
She sat close to me and spoke quietly.
“No one meant for him to die. …”
I considered whether maybe it was just a way for her to carry on.
I tried my best to assure her.
Neither of us had wanted this or even imagined this.
It was a horrible, horrible accident.
That night after dinner, we returned home, and we both decided to turn in early.
We found ourselves standing upstairs in the hallway awkwardly starting to say goodnight.
She looked at me directly and asked evenly,
“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”
I looked a little surprised and even tentative.
“Um, I don’t know. Are you sure?”
She gave a couple of quick nods of her head.
And with that, I ambled into her bedroom with her.
I felt an unsteadiness with the day that we had endured.
I saw her go into the bathroom, and I decided I’d just be present and go with however she felt.
I stripped to my boxers and I climbed into the bed.
I was lying there, bare chested and sitting propped up somewhat when she came out of the bathroom.
She saw me there in bed, and she stopped.
We looked at each other, and I wondered whether maybe I had misunderstood and somehow shouldn’t be there after all.
I found myself very concerned.
“Uh, is this okay?” My voice sounded very worried and doubtful, and Arundhatī Joshī relaxed her face into a smile.
She moved slowly to the bed in a night shirt that covered almost to her knees.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” She ran a hand through her hair, and she got into bed and to my surprise she curled up next to me.
“I am so glad you are here. I need you tonight.”
I kissed the top of her head which she had put at my chest, and I stroked at her hair.
“I’m glad you want me here.”
“Listen, I know this is weird. It is.” She moved a hand to my chest and her fingers drew circles on my bare flesh there. “But I want you to understand. I’m feeling so very fragile right now, you know?”
“Yeah, sure.” My voice was low.
“I’m sure you are too.” She kept her fingers at my skin.
“Yeah, I am. I guess I’m still numb.”
“Me too. Very.” She sounded like she was about to cry as she squeezed out her next words. “I just hope you don’t hate me.”
I immediately reached to her face and opened it to me.
She had lines of tears that had started and the eyes of someone utterly unguarded.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I consoled in as calming a voice as I could muster, “don’t even think that. Not for a second. I wouldn’t ever hate you. I couldn’t ever hate you.”
I went to her face and kissed her fully.
I pulled her into a hug to my chest.
She hugged me back.
We kept our embrace and she eased back with me as my torso had to go back for support, our position at first too strained to keep.
We ended up with her half over onto me.
She put a hand on my chest and looked into my eyes.
“I love you, Durgesh.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I love you, too.”
When I said it, her face perked and I saw her eyes dart about my face, but mostly at my eyes and mouth.
She drew a breath and then she leaned to me, kissing me gently but fully on my lips.
I kissed back, but when she didn’t pull away, I was a little surprised that she was being affectionate this way.
I was awestruck when she used her lips to open mine, and she moved her tongue to mine.
She kissed me passionately, and it was completely unexpected by me.
The feel of her lips and tongue, together with her increasing movements at my mouth, stirred me against all better judgment.
I just couldn’t help it.
As we continued kissing, she shifted to try to get better positioned atop me, and when her leg moved over my waist, she felt a certain, unmistakable hardness.
She broke our kiss, but didn’t move far from my face with hers.
She continued her leg on over me, but rather than just lay against me, she moved her entire body astride me.
She stared into my face as I watched her lower to my waist.
I tried hard not to react when I felt her at my skin.
Because she was sitting higher up on me from our kissing, her crotch met my skin at my stomach.
It was obvious by the feel of her that she wasn’t wearing anything under the night shirt.
She shifted just a bit, and then I felt the slightly prickly stick of pubic hair and the unique slickness of her natural moisture.
She moved her hips barely, and I wondered if it was intended to make sure I felt her dampness.
She seemed to watch for a reaction from me, but I didn’t reveal one.
“I am feeling so raw right now.” She said it in a loud whisper and it sounded dramatic.
Her feet seemed to tuck closer to my sides where she was straddling me, and she raised herself on her arms that went to each side of my head.
She closed her eyes briefly and then half opened them.
“Is it okay if I tell you I need you right now?” She still whispered.
I nodded slowly and noticed her full lips staying parted.
Her half closed eyes and slightly opened lips finally conveyed to me that she was actually very aroused.
She may have meant emotionally she needed me, but it didn’t seem like that was all, I now understood.
I reached up to her arms and I moved them to my chest, where each of her hands came to rest up on my skin.
She closed her eyes again and I watched her gulp.
She opened them to see my eyes as she shifted her weight onto her left hand at my chest.
She lifted the right hand and she brought it down our bodies between us.
When her hand reached my boxers and deftly entered inside, my face no longer stayed expressionless.
I furrowed my brow and gave a wince, as she took me engorged into the opening between us.
She opened her mouth wide as if to react with me and she made the slightest of grins, knowing she had affected me so.
Then, she looked at me intently as she said more.
“Two things.” She breathed the words.
My reply was fast. “Yes!”
She stared deep into me and spoke her request slowly and seriously. “I want you inside me, and… I want you to keep your eyes with mine. Okay?”
She backed downward toward me, and we kept fixed on one another.
She held me steady between us as she placed her hips where she wanted them.
When my head mashed to her lips, we both shook.
“AH!” I exclaimed as I felt her rotate her hips.
Our eyes stayed, and there was an intensity to it that surprised me and excited me, seeing her every reaction and expression.
Poised there, she surprised me yet again when she reached to her shirt and shed it off herself, exposing her breasts and hardened nipples to me.
My hands immediately went to them and clutched them, as I watched her own eyes almost close shut with the sensation of my hands squeezing and manipulating her full bare flesh.
I still marveled at her large, thick nipples, but I felt them and rubbed them rather than look to them.
When she started moving again, her face changed expression from a stillness to more and more emotion and contortion, as she was forcing herself down on me.
She fought to keep her eyes to mine, and I saw how she showed the change she felt as I went deeper into her.
Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ as she wiggled herself and pushed.
I struggled to keep my eyes on hers, as she rested her weight on her hands on my chest but moved her hips more and more.
She was getting more used to me, and it enabled her to get more into it.
She was raising and lowering herself, and each time her face reacted in some way to the sensations inside her.
She squatted more onto me and her head tilted back somewhat, but her eyes stayed level with mine.
Her eye brows arched and her face expressed what looked like pain when she went even further down on me.
She felt a plunging of me into her that filled her fully.
“UUUUNNNNNGHHHHHHH! Ungh, ungh, ungh!” She was loud with her grunting coming from within her throat.
I started to buck with my hips but didn’t.
I wanted to see what she would do on her own.
“C’mon,” I urged her on.
She made an inner squealing-kind of sound at my prompting her like I was, and I grinned at her.
She drew her lips together, batted her eyes and then sucked in a breath, as she appeared to ready herself for different motion.
I kept her full breasts in my hands and squeezed up, mashing them to her and evoking a pant from her.
She brought her head just down and looked at me as if she were boiling, and I felt her hips jerk.
I grunted my own reaction when I felt her beginning a back and forth sway with her hips.
The feeling was so different and unexpected that I arched my back and wondered if I’d explode just from that.
She saw she had affected me strongly and it incited her.
She furrowed her brow, grew intense with her stare to me, and she picked up her pace.
I was astonished.
She was working her hips back and forth with my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund buried deeply in her, and she was panting with her effort.
Arundhatī Joshī was riding me.
Her hips bucked at me hungrily.
I moaned at her exertion.
My getting overwhelmed thrilled her, and she tried to go even harder on me.
We were both getting louder with throaty noises back and forth.
There was no doubt to either of us now that she was full on fucking me.
She kept her pace, but she eased backward some, giving herself more of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund inside her, and this was all it took.
Her Joshī Brāhmañ thrusts on me and her willingness to sit down on my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund while she was riding me together shoved me over the edge.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I screamed and shook with an orgasm that washed over me with repeated contractions. “Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK me, Arundhatī Joshī!!!”
As my face looked frantic and delirious to her with my extended climax, she felt herself succumb and come with as much intensity as she could ever remember having had before.
Her mouth fell open, and her bottom lip quivered, as she felt my kicking and releasing together with her own spasms deep within her.
We both panted and tried to catch our breath.
She eased forward and lower upon me, softly collapsing, and as she did, her full breasts met my still heaving chest and pressed me.
She brought her lips to mine, and we again kissed for a while.
Soon, her head rested at my chest, and we both lay spent.
Arundhatī Joshī was still straddling me, and I was still halfway enmeshed into her.
“That was unreal.” My voice was low and disbelieving. “You were so… good.”
“I loved it.”
She traced a finger around one of my nipples as she pondered a moment.
Then, she moved her head a bit to see me as she said softly her thought.
I grinned back.
“I will fuck you whenever you want, Durgesh.”
I grinned even more and kissed at the top of her head.
She put her head back to my chest.
“I mean it.”
We stayed in a heap for several more moments before we finally thought to move again.
I had to go to the bathroom, and we very carefully disengaged from one another.
She watched me get out of bed, and as I walked towards the bathroom, she couldn’t resist staring at me.
Even flaccid, I hung down between my legs heavily, and it swayed with my steps.
I turned back and caught her looking, and she smiled sheepishly.
When she turned onto her back, her thighs rubbed, and the clear sensation of wetness was coated where both of our juices had gone onto her thighs.
She self-consciously reached there, and she felt about.
She couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was me.
She withdrew her hand as I came back to bed and to her.
We wrapped into each other, and while she started to talk to me more, I was soon snoring away. She sighed and smiled to herself and let herself drift to sleep as well.
The next morning the two of us quietly and somberly prepared, and went to see the lawyer.
There wasn’t much said or really to be said.
As we traveled to the office, Arundhatī Joshī thought over again how she had answered what was asked of her by others.
She had essentially answered the truth asked of her, but she carried that weight of the whole story.
I and Arundhatī Joshī knew the whole truth, and that was more intimate knowledge we both shared with each other and no one else.
We both sat together listening to Vinod Sharmā’s friend and lawyer.
During the meeting with the lawyer, I tried to act friendly and talkative, but it was as if Arundhatī Joshī was still dysfunctional.
She was quiet and still numb, it seemed.
She did muster one reaction though.
There was an emotional outburst that was part laugh and part sob at a disclosure the lawyer made to the both of us.
The lawyer described it professionally and gently, but there was the sense that I had hoped the revelation would provide whatever comfort that it could.
The lawyer was meeting with us to talk about Vinod Sharmā’s estate.
There were several details to cover.
But significantly, I wanted Arundhatī Joshī to know there was at least one thing she didn’t have to worry about any more.
Vinod Sharmā had left three separate life insurance policies, and Arundhatī Joshī was the sole beneficiary of all three policies.
Arundhatī Joshī was going to receive three million dollars.
There was only one condition however.
Arundhatī Joshī smiled and fulfilled the last wish of her husband.
That was what she herself was dying for.
Her late husband had actually gifted her everything she needed immensely.
Three million dollars and me.
Arundhatī Joshī never needed anything else.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
She drifted down to her knees.
She brought her hands to my jeans, and as she undid them and worked the zipper, she glanced back up to see the utter pleasant shock on my face.
She pulled my engorged Bachhalyā shaft from my jeans and the thickness again amazed her.
Her fist worked around me and she stroked at me.
She hadn’t felt this emboldened, or this invigorated, in years, she knew.
She glanced up.
“Do you want this?” Her voice was meek but clear.
“Yeah!” My response was quick and sure.
We both chuckled.
We both knew she was shocking me with this, but we both also knew she was liking doing this and being shocking.
She kissed my head again, and as I moaned and looked down at her, she opened her mouth wide, pushing it down over my head and to where several inches went into her extremely beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth.
She started sucking at me fervently, with her small fist pumping away at my length.
Her cheeks were reacting with each stroke of me she made.
I wasn’t going to last long and we both knew it.
I gripped her hair in my hands, and I started showing that I was close.
I narrowed my eyes and my brow tensed.
A sudden familiar sound startled us both.
The grinding sound of the garage door sliding open reverberated.
She flashed a panicked look at me.
“Hey, hey, hey! That’s Vinod!” Arundhatī Joshī snapped.
Much to my pleasant shock again, she didn’t even slow.
She just kept looking back at me and pumping me into her mouth.
A car door slammed, yet my face never twisted even a bit with concern.
“We have to stop.” I urged.
The kitchen door opened downstairs and swung closed.
“Honey, I’m home.” Vinod Sharmā’s voice called out from downstairs.
Arundhatī Joshī still did not take me out of her mouth, and now I seemed to be pulling at her hair.
My eyes gave a look like I was surrendering to something within me.
We could both hear Vinod Sharmā at the foot of the stairs, and I spasmed violently, exploding into Arundhatī Joshī‘s mouth.
My body contorted and a third spray released.
Arundhatī Joshī gazed up at me with half-closed eyes.
Steps could be heard making their way up the staircase, and Arundhatī Joshī let my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund pop out of her extremely beautiful Joshī Brāhmañ mouth.
I worked my jeans up and started fastening them.
I looked at Arundhatī Joshī, and she looked unsteady on her feet as she gave me a mischievous smirk and wiped at her mouth with two fingers.
Vinod Sharmā could be heard getting to the top of the stairs, and I watched Arundhatī Joshī dab the two fingers between her lips, licking them clean.
I watched in utter pleasant shock, as Arundhatī Joshī opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hall.
I stood at my door and watched Arundhatī Joshī go the few feet to where Vinod Sharmā was heading into their bedroom.
“Hey honey,” Arundhatī Joshī said to Vinod Sharmā, as she tilted Vinod Sharmā’s face towards hers.
Arundhatī Joshī planted a big, full kiss on Vinod Sharmā before Vinod Sharmā walked on into their bedroom.
I stood looking at Arundhatī Joshī pleasantly dumbfounded, as she looked back to me before joining her husband in their bedroom.
She pointed to my jeans and then made an up and down motion with her fingers.
I looked down to see what she was referring to, and I then realized my jeans were unzipped.
I looked up and back at Arundhatī Joshī, who smiled brightly to me before ducking into the bedroom.
After the tumultuous Saturday, we all went to dinner together.
Vinod Sharmā drove, and Arundhatī Joshī was in the passenger seat, while I quietly rode in the back seat.
Vinod Sharmā talked golf, as Arundhatī Joshī peered out the window.
She felt a swirl of different emotions about the last two days.
She especially felt regret at having pulled the stunt she did just earlier, when she had gone up and kissed Vinod Sharmā once he got home.
That was stupid and wrong.
She rationalized it to herself by thinking about how elated she had felt at finally having had passionate sex with me, after years of her and Vinod Sharmā barely touching.
Even though it was with me, which was a whole other set of problems itself, it was still not justification for having done something so devious.
She swore to herself she would make it up to me.
The car was almost to the restaurant as she was also shocked, as well as delighted, that she had even let herself do some of the things she had done.
Sure, she had fantasized about different acts or such, but she had never really been a daring partner.
Not at all.
To have done the things she had in the last two days simply shocked her.
As we pulled to the valet, she flipped her vanity mirror down to adjust her makeup.
She used the opportunity to look in the mirror to the backseat at me.
I was looking ahead and clearly fixed in my own thoughts.
She felt jarring guilt.
She felt the guilt for having been the way she was at the party with me, and then she wrestled maddening guilt at the notion of having had sex with me.
Maybe she was going insane, she thought.
But just as she had already done in her previous reflections on the day, where she had kicked and thrashed herself inside for having had sex with me, her thoughts at once went to the both of us together.
It was like she looked at me in two totally different ways.
She knew she had to have some malady, she figured, but she looked at me as a Bachhalyā on one hand, and on another, she viewed me as this ever young, virile man.
She further justified clearly I was experienced with even Brāhmañ women already.
I had not been an unwitting victim, she believed.
I had pursued her, just as she had accepted my advances.
She also repeatedly thought of herself as pathetic in a way.
She could no longer claim to be a good friend’s wife.
She could never claim this ever again.
Plus, it was likely she had unalterably changed her relationship with me to where there would be at least some negative consequences.
All of these rational thoughts replayed in her head, but as if on cue, her focus shifted.
She stood, straightened her skirt and looked over at me who was also standing and looking over at her with a grin.
Yes, it was all of those things alright, but she still felt the way she did.
She loved me, and… well, she wanted me.
She felt a chill as we all went into the restaurant.
She held her head up, but she gave it a small shake in bewilderment.
All appeared calm and collected, but as we walked in together, she did so with the knowledge that her exchanged glance with me had made her wet.*
At our table, all the three of us soon were downing drinks.
Of course, I juices only.
Vinod Sharmā had his first of probably many Scotch and waters.
Arundhatī Joshī ordered her favorite Chardonnay, and I stuck with my usual juices.
There was a comfortable atmosphere despite the morning’s confrontation, as Vinod Sharmā and I talked up the football games going on for the weekend.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t really join in the conversation, but she didn’t really mind either.
She took a devious enjoyment in sitting back and observing us.
Vinod Sharmā spoke as he understood I was conditioned to do, and that was authoritatively.
He’d learned long ago to think and feel confidently and it had served him well.
Plus, I was his friend.
He felt good speaking to me with assuredness.
Of course, Vinod Sharmā knew what the games meant for the teams involved, and Vinod Sharmā felt good about my view of who would do well.
I delighted in sharing this with me.
I had always felt there was an inconsistency with how interested my friend was in even talking to me.
He’d soak this up, even if at times Vinod Sharmā seemed kind of… smug.
I smiled to my friend and nodded.
I also occasionally stole looks at my friend’s wife.
I was amazed.
I saw this composed, elegant young woman, the same image I had observed for years.
But now, I also saw this young woman who looked just slightly steeled to where she was avoiding the visibility of layers that shouldn’t be seen.
One layer was a restlessness that contained an appetite.
This was a layer she didn’t want detected.
It was a layer that made her incredibly more interesting and desirable to me now.
For herself, Arundhatī Joshī wondered how these guys could care so much about such a meaningless thing as the football games.
Her glass never left her hand as she savored each drink of the white wine.
She couldn’t help but marvel somewhat at me, as I showed absolutely no discomfort or inhibition at the table at all.
Here I had just spent some of the day betraying my friend as severely as I could, and I seemed utterly unfazed.
She choked at her wine as she realized the exact same thing could be said of herself.
Both men looked concernedly over to her, and she waved us off.
We resumed our conversation effortlessly, as she resumed her thoughts on my lack of concern as well as her own.
In her mind, she and I just cared for each other deeply.
It was so intense that it was like we were compelled to show it physically, she told herself.
And, she concluded that this must explain my ease with the situation as well.
After a couple of more drinks and the appetizer, Arundhatī Joshī found herself looking more and more at me.
When I’d return her look, I gazed back with a look Arundhatī Joshī adored.
It was a cute but desirous look as well.
It was hard for her to believe, but exactly what she wanted.
She admonished herself that she needed to be careful, but part of her didn’t care.
She made herself participate more in some of our talk, but she started feeling that Vinod Sharmā was just acting too… smug.
It agitated her somewhat.
During the meal, Vinod Sharmā took stock of the evening and felt a sense of contentment.
I liked and admired his wife, regardless of whether he still found her desirable.
Their comfort and security with one another was one of the best things he valued.
As far as his other needs went, he had solved that issue some time back.
Just like on this particular Saturday, his routine was golf with buddies.
He inwardly grinned knowing his Saturday routine also always included the stop by his favorite massage therapist on the way home.
There was that hour of alone time and relaxation that always culminated in the young Musalmān woman finishing his massage in a delirious release that left him sated.
This never failed to calm him and make Saturday evening that much more enjoyable, knowing his every need had been met.
This evening was no different.*
The car ride home from the restaurant was quiet and subdued.
Everyone had eaten well and had enjoyed drinks throughout the evening.
Everyone was also lost in his/her own thoughts.
Once home, Vinod Sharmā and Arundhatī Joshī made their way straight to the kitchen for night caps to take upstairs to bed.
I went to my room to change into a t-shirt and gym shorts.
I was looking forward to watching the end of the football game on TV.
Arundhatī Joshī followed Vinod Sharmā back upstairs, and she found herself excited with an idea she’d come to over the course of the evening.
She changed clothes into a nice teddy while Vinod Sharmā readied himself for bed in the bathroom.
This would be her chance to make things right with Vinod Sharmā, she figured.
Vinod Sharmā stepped out of the bathroom and directed himself straight to the bed.
Pulling back the covers, he heard Arundhatī Joshī speak to me from where she was standing across from him before getting into the bed herself.
He saw the black teddy and grinned.
“Hey baby,” she purred and she tried to give a sly grin.
Vinod Sharmā chuckled.
He continued pulling himself into bed.
Arundhatī Joshī slipped under the covers beside him.
She slid over to him, and he felt himself brace as she did.
“Sweetheart, you look great,” they both knew there was a ‘but’ coming.
“I’m really beat tonight, you know? I mean, we partied last night. I played golf all day. Then, all the drinks and food tonight. I got to get some sleep, that’s all.”
Arundhatī Joshī patted at her hair trying to seem unaffected.
“Hey, I understand. Don’t worry. I can help you get to sleep, you know?” Her hand went to his side and rubbed him.
Vinod Sharmā shifted in bed, effectively moving from her.
“Tell you what, let’s hold that idea till in the morning. We’ll do just that. I’m beat tonight.”
Arundhatī Joshī flopped over onto her back on her side of the bed. She stared dejectedly up at the ceiling.
Then, she popped out of bed, shrugging off the nightie and pulling on her satin robe.
“I’m going downstairs for a drink.”
She pulled the door loudly shut, as she stormed from the room.
She tugged the robe tightly to her body, and she tried to compose herself as she descended the stairs.
Incredibly, she had gone from feeling buoyant and bright to weak and insecure in Vinod Sharmā’s swift rejection of her.
Just calm down, she told herself.
Propped on the sofa and engrossed in the football game, I noticeably brightened when she entered the living room.
Arundhatī Joshī beamed right back at me.
She was very grateful for my reaction.
“Hey,” she looked at me, then the TV and back at me.
“How are you doing?” I asked with a warmness in my tone.
“I’m okay.” She sat in a chair facing the sofa and she tried to show interest in what I was watching. “Who’s winning?”
I answered, but it was completely lost on her.
She nodded absently and acted like she was watching along with me.
I went about trying to explain to her how the pro football teams played Saturday night games when December rolled around, when they typically would not previously in the season.
Arundhatī Joshī listened and looked at me, but she didn’t seem genuinely interested in the subject, only in holding my attention.
I grinned appreciatively at her.
Arundhatī Joshī stood and walked to the kitchen.
She went to refresh her glass, knowing full well she should stop and leave well enough alone. There was a haze from the night’s indulgence that she was aware of and decided to continue to fuel.
She drank her wine and paced a couple of steps in the kitchen.
She found herself standing in front of the sink where a large clear window overlooked their back yard.
Arundhatī Joshī stared longingly out the window.
Her thoughts jumped around.
She could make out her reflection very well in the clean glass of the window.
She saw a younger woman that she wondered about.
She had this self-image, but she wondered now whether it fit.
She doubted her looks any more, and now she began doubting even her own judgment.
Hadn’t she made a huge mistake?
What could she be thinking, having these feelings about me?
Was she just desperate?
Was she just starved?
She drank more of the wine from her glass, and she gave an answer at least to the last question.
After the day she just experienced, she recognized that she had been missing a lot.
It was just the truth.
And, if she was being really honest with herself, the affection, and the sex, was still a need for her.
An important need, she admitted.
Against her better judgment, she thought about me and our time.
She took a deep breath as she thought about how I was and how I had made her feel.
She had to admit I had made her feel like she hadn’t in a very long time, if ever.
She silently stirred at how very well I had been with her.
Then, as if on cue, I materialized in the reflection of the window, and she saw I was now standing there behind her.
At first, neither of us spoke, even though we both acknowledged each other in the reflection with our looks to each other.
The tension was palpable.
Here she was downstairs with me.
She had come downstairs, leaving Vinod Sharmā upstairs in bed asleep.
She had come downstairs and found me here. And… She had stayed.
Arundhatī Joshī studied her glass for a moment and swirled it about. “Is the game still on?”
“What’s the score now?”
“I don’t care any more.”
She smiled at me in the reflection. “Good answer.”
I looked at her intensely.
“Why aren’t you in there watching it?” There was a hint of challenge in her tone.
“Because you’re in here.”
She chuckled at this. “Mmmmmm, even better answer.”
She pulled a long taste of her wine.
Then, as if thinking better of our banter, she added, “You should go back to your game.”
“I don’t want to.” My hands went to her arms and traced up.
I started massaging her shoulders, and she seemed a little surprised.
At first, she tried hard to act indifferent.
She seemed to resist showing any reaction.
This was what she should do.
“Well, you should.” Her tone was thin and unconvincing.
I brought my hands back down her arms, and I leaned much closer to her.
She saw in the window how my head moved closer to her own.
“We can’t be that way again.” She said it quietly. Resignedly.
I opened my hands wide and went from her arms to her sides still massaging her.
She closed her eyes at my touch.
“You’re crazy. This is wrong.” She was even quieter than before.
No conviction was behind the words.
My hands glided wide over her belly and she wavered as she watched my hands on her, mentally noting how wide my hands were.
Her belly felt on fire from me.
She then felt me press to her from behind, my body was solid and straight.
There was definitely a bulge down there, too.
“Please… stop.” She was completely unconvincing and her words flat.
I paused like I might stop.
She froze in place.
A moment passed where she seemed to think.
She reached out and put her drink down, then reached with her hands to me.
We both saw me smile in the reflection.
“You are such a beautiful woman.”
“I wish that was true.”
“Of course it’s true.”
I put my hands to the satin belt of her robe and I waited letting her see what I was doing.
My hands drew a line over the belt out in each direction and back again, as her hands followed atop mine.
Her hands lightly gripped me, as if to discourage me.
We watched the material of her robe crease as the hands went up.
“I should go to bed.” She said it like she was commenting about someone else.
Her hands stayed at my arms as my hands reached to trace at the satin of the robe high on her chest.
I pressed at her robe, and she felt the lines I made over her breasts underneath, before going on to circle her chest with motions that went around the points of her robe where her nipples tented it.
My fingers rubbed the satin against her so that her nipples felt the satin press them and then release.
Impossibly, I was making them harder and more pointed with my caresses there.
She drew a sharp breath at my motions, and I lowered my face and spoke softly into her ear.
“Do you want to go to bed? Is that what you want?”
She raised her arms to put her hands in my hair up and behind her.
With this I dipped my head and started kissing her neck and over onto her shoulder.
She sighed and whispered.
I continued to kiss and lick her shoulders.
She clenched her eyes and opened them to see my hands pull the part of her robe where it crossed at her chest.
I just tugged it apart.
The robes’ sides backed away from each other, and the bare skin of her chest displayed in full view of the both of us.
Her breasts hung openly and fully, bottomed with the protruding pointed nipples I had teased when they were covered.
My hands came to them and held them, lifting just slightly.
Her entire body swooned a little at what I had done to her, as she acted unsteady.
Looking at her, I said more in her ear.
“You don’t want to go to bed, do you?”
There was a muffled sound from her.
I straightened my stance, and her head rested more back against my chest but still gazed forward at our reflection.
My hands moved again.
One swipe at the belt finished unleashing it, and my hands pressed at the open hips that appeared.
My left hand stayed pressed to her hip, and my right hand crossed her skin at her waist.
“AHHHHHHHH!” She exclaimed at my entry.
As if reflexively, she brought her hips backwards.
I pushed back at her and held.
“Oh, Durgesh!” She yelped at me.
I couldn’t believe how wet and hot she felt to my touch.
Overcome with her reaction, I brought my left arm under around her waist.
I maneuvered her around and away from the counter.
I had her wrapped in my arm and my hand holding her, as I physically brought her across the room to the kitchen table.
I forced her to the table, her back still to me, and pinned her there.
In one swift push, I had her bent over the table.
Her hands went out by her sides and braced herself.
She didn’t pull back up or slide in either direction away.
I saw no resistance from her at all.
I hovered over where I was rendering her bent over the table.
She slumped in a sprawl right in front of me.
We both heard her take a sharp gasp, when I flipped her robe up over her back from behind.
The next sound was a soft cry from her.
The gym shorts easily lowered to release my full erection.
I slid a foot of hers sideways, leaving her legs spread wide and further flattening her onto the table.
My left hand left her back where I had first thought I might have to hold her, and it went between her legs.
She reeled from my left hand reaching to her crotch and manipulating her there, fingers prying at her and opening her.
She felt lightheaded from the surprising physicality of it all, and she twitched anxiously under me.
With her lips worked open, a thick plunge pushed her forward and her upper body traveled up the surface of the table.
Desperately, she gripped to brace herself, as her body lifted impaled and defenseless.
Waves of tingling charges and profound pleasure washed over her, as she felt her helplessness at my Bachhalyā thrusts.
Her mouth fell open but silent, and her head tilted up and forward.
I was working at her and pushing. Vigorously.
“UUNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!” The moaning came from her throat as I pumped at her.
Arundhatī Joshī couldn’t believe how hard and thick I felt pistoning in and out of her, and she writhed uncontrollably.
I felt as hard and excited as I could ever remember being, with her lying out below me and my having my way deep inside her.
Her body jerked about with each pump from me.
My balls felt heavy right away and I wondered how long I could last.
Arundhatī Joshī shook her head back and forth and relished the fullness of me there.
She had never been taken as thoroughly as this.
Lightness and more spasms shot through her as she struggled to contain herself from screaming loudly.
She was bucking more and more as yet another orgasm rocked her.
As she shook violently, I was set off into my own.
Seeing her body shake as it did pushed me over the edge, and I grunted and shot into her.
I pushed and made a grinding effort at her as though I was seeking some finish even deeper within her.
With my hips forward and my back hunched I slowed to a stop.
Arundhatī Joshī still had her hips elevated and was impaled on me as she tried to catch her breath and her emotions.
Her chest was mashed to the table top and her palms were flat on it.
She let her head softly ease to rest on the table’s surface as well.
She at once thought of how she must have looked at me.
Her legs were spread lewdly.
She even felt her cheeks at her bottom open given the width of her legs being apart.
Her entire upper torso and arms were still pushed forward and the robe dangled about in disarray.
She had to have looked ravished.
Nevertheless, when she thought of how I even still felt to her, lodged within, and how exquisitely taken every part of her felt, she couldn’t suppress a big smile.
I had wildly fucked her.
Durgesh was always right.
It was an art.
And Durgesh was the only master of this art.
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Then, we had been clothed, but it had been startling.
Now, I was exposed, and it was even more so.
Without looking back downward, she followed in her mind her hand being drawn by my straight down between us.
While she had seen my Bachhalyā girth, her hand wrapping me now showed her just how endowed and very thick I actually was.
She again clenched her eyes, and she gave a little shake of her head.
No, she thought, there was no way this ‘thing’ was going inside of her.
She was extremely beautiful but she lacked sexual hunger as much as even her husband Vinod Sharmā needed.
Her mind spun with her thoughts.
She had never had such an experience, she knew.
Her mind searched for some kind of a reference, and all she thought of was a large fruit or a club.
Suddenly, there was another sensation though.
I brought her hand up and down slowly, and Arundhatī Joshī was then stroking me.
She felt her fist hold onto me, and it hit her that she did so to make it feel good for me.
She flashed her eyes open and up at me.
I still had this intense, determined look on my face.
I looked down at her and I didn’t seem to be reacting.
Arundhatī Joshī sensed some kind of power or control about me, and it flooded her even more.
She had me in her hand stroking me, and I wasn’t showing a thing.
I maneuvered over her, while her hand held me, and she felt me move my hips back.
She immediately brought her legs back towards her to where her feet planted flat behind her buttocks.
She was suddenly keenly aware at how very open she was to me.
I moved further forward, and she yelped with her lips being splayed by me.
I stopped and I savored how tightly Arundhatī Joshī gripped at me.
Her hands frantically pressed on my stomach as if to stop me in place.
I gave her a moment and I kissed her.
She kissed me back, and then she spoke very softly. “Please… please be gentle. I am a Brahm Padminī. You are a Bachhalyā.”
With my face very close to hers and our eyes gazing into each other, I answered her and nodded.
She kissed me several times.
She rubbed her hands from my stomach to around my sides and then up to where my shoulders were.
One hand went to the back of my neck and cradled me there, while the other went into the hair at the back of my head and pulled my head beside hers.
She nestled her cheek to mine, and then I felt her legs move again.
This time she brought her legs straight back, and she tilted her hips up.
I felt her thighs grip my sides, and her feet came to rest at my back.
The realization that she had readied herself for me sent a charge through me and I felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund stiffen even harder lodged at her Joshī Brāhmañ labial lips.
I started my hips forward and I could sense her lips cling to me and pull inward as I moved slightly into her.
She started with what sounded like an ‘ahhh’ in her throat as I flexed forward, and she instantly felt herself stretch with me as I moved into her.
I stopped deep inside her.
Arundhatī Joshī drew a sharp inhale.
She grunted, and I wondered if she could feel me plant myself better on the sheet.
When she had taken a couple of breaths, I brought myself barely back but then thrust much more than before, and this time she screamed and shook violently.
Once she seemed to adjust, I moved back and then thrust again.
Her head tilted further back as her upper body writhed underneath me.
Her hands clutched me.
She moved her hips to try to create more space but she was filled.
I moved just off her chest to speak to her as she was panting at my ear.
I asked quickly.
“Are you okay, my darling, Arundhatī Joshī?” I wanted to be sure.
“I’m your friend’s wife.” Arundhatī Joshī whispered.
Her head nodded a couple of quick times.
I withdrew myself by half and stopped to wait.
She still clung to me inside.
Her legs tilted to come further back.
I went slowly.
I moved forward, and her head responded with her body taking me in.
She seemed to release some tension with getting more used to me.
She felt herself still overwhelmed and seemingly impaled with me, as thick and as hard as I was inside of her.
Though going only a bit at a time, I was still going back further and inward more deeply with each stroke, and she was moaning and writhing even more.
I didn’t think I could go more carefully when she again started to shake and whisper under me.
I kept moving but I spoke into her ear.
I was concerned.
“Want me to stop?”
I noticed her freeze with my question.
She thought for a moment, and then her own hips started moving more with mine.
“No, no, no. Never! Jut keep doing what you are doing with me.” She answered and moved with me.
I felt relieved and I also felt rejuvenated.
I looked at her face which I could see at an angle from where she still cradled me.
“No?” I asked it teasingly this time.
She grinned slightly back to me.
I knew she was getting more used to me and I moved more inside her.
I increased my pace.
I liked how much she was getting more and more into it, her hips moving more against me now.
I looked at her, drawing her attention to my face.
I liked how she was moving with my Bachhalyā thrusts each time.
“Tell me.” I said it with a firmness.
She looked at me a moment unsure.
“Wh… , what?” Her face was rocking up and back based on my moving in her.
I spoke a little louder to her and it was obvious I was teasing her.
“Tell me what you want.”
With her face still reacting with each stroke from me, she smiled back at me.
She spoke very urgently to me this time.
“I want… I want… you… to fuck me.”
I picked up my pace, and she spoke in broken phrases back at me.
“Please… please… please fuck me, okay?”
My hips gave long, full strides that started with my head at her lips and pushed deep into where my base would get close to her lips and my balls slapped at her.
“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” She exclaimed as my hips started slapping faster at her.
I loved it when she moved her legs wide and higher, her legs swaying back and forth high in the air with the strokes I gave her.
“YYYYEEEEEAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” I grunted down to her, another wave washing over her that made her clench her eyes shut hard.
Once this orgasm subsided, I eased myself back and I took each of her calves in my hand right above the ankle.
She looked directly up and at me startled.
“OOHHHHH!” Arundhatī Joshī sounded shocked by this, and I started pumping quicker into her at this angle.
She brought her legs down to my sides once more, and I intensely moved my entire body over her, trying to thrust even more than I had.
“Yeah, yeah, Durgesh,” she urged me on.
She pushed back at me now.
“C’mon, c’mon, mérī Jān!”
I was moaning louder myself now, and I was closer to release.
She looked up at me, and this time it was her getting my attention.
She held my eyes on hers and she spoke clearly to me.
“Durgesh, come in me. I want you to come in me.”
I bolted up and tensed hard, strokes still coming but slowing in pace.
I pushed against her.
I shook and screamed, as she took me in and she felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund surging deep inside her.
I slowed to a stop, and then I gave sporadic jolts of spasms as I finished my climax.
We exchanged the knowing looks of shock and satisfaction each of us felt.
We both panted, trying to calm ourselves.
Neither spoke at first.
Finally, she reached up and pulled at me, bringing me into an embrace.
We hugged tightly as I stayed lodged inside her, both of us joined.
“I love you.” I said to her.
“I love you, too.” She replied.
In the afternoon, Arundhatī Joshī tried to busy herself with the anticipation of her husband on his way home.
She felt such relief at having talked to me and I having said all was well.
She’d thought it would be, but still she felt much better knowing it was.
The fact that I had also talked to him during the day made it that much better.
She knew that we all could have a certain comfort level again, once we were altogether at home soon.
It was strange, she knew, but true.
She found herself lost in thought in the kitchen, staring out the window and thinking over her day with me.
A warmness and giddiness filled her.
She could not even remember how long it had been since she had felt such pleasure, such satisfaction.
She found herself wondering if she had ever felt that kind of pleasure.
She had felt so overwhelmed and so completely taken.
She also couldn’t believe she had let this amount of time go by without feeling such excitement, such pleasure.
She decided she wouldn’t ever let life go by like that again.
Arundhatī Joshī had determined she liked sex and sensuality, and she had come to the realization that she didn’t have to do without it.
She had also made another discovery for herself. She had not worked out all of her qualms and problems with what had happened with me, and with what that meant she had done, but at the same time, she knew she should not have gone this long without physical love or appreciation.
She just absolutely should not have.
This was a consequence of both her and Vinod Sharmā getting complacent, but she knew she had tried.
And moreover, she’d keep trying.
She decided that Vinod Sharmā needed to decide what I wanted for himself and his own life as well.
As for me, she and I had talked candidly and straightforwardly later in the day.
She was surprised, and very relieved, to learn how assuredly that I said I could be trusted and that nothing would ever, ever be said about what we had done.
In Arundhatī Joshī‘s thinking, she believed me, and there was the added aspect that I would be horribly at risk if anything were learned of our time as well.
As a result, she figured that this was all actually under control.
Then, with the hopefulness that there didn’t have to be awkwardness shortly, she enjoyed a new confidence.
She kept thinking about me, and she admitted to herself that she continued to be enthralled by our tryst.
The incredible intensity she’d felt, and how very much I had thrilled and satisfied her, was something she had never known possible, and now she felt she wouldn’t trade anything for it.
As she stood lost in thought in the kitchen, she let herself wonder about something else.
As intense and as satisfying as the sex had been with me, she now had also determined that she would trust me.
Given this, Arundhatī Joshī thought of another idea.
She wondered whether it should happen again.
When she had talked to me, she had discussed it as if it was ‘over and done’.
Now, as she stood and reflected, she let herself reconsider that.
She played back over in her mind the party where it had started.
My kisses, my charm and my eagerness.
She thought of how she had come to view me as a man.
And with that thought, she let herself go a step even further.
She thought of how I was as a man.
I had such an endearing smile.
I was ever young and handsome.
She thought of how she and her friend had admired me.
‘Yes’, she was now able to admit, ‘yes Durgesh has such arms and hands’.
She smiled to herself.
She had never seen a penis anything like mine, much less felt it and felt it as I had given it to her.
Arundhatī Joshī had to admit standing there in her house that she had lost count of how many orgasms I had given her as we’d made love.
Rather, as we had made love and actually fucked.
She admitted to herself that she had let me fuck her, and she was now not only okay with it.
She had liked it very much.
She choked at her next thought.
She had actually loved it, she admitted to herself.
She knew that if it was up to her that she was going to let me have her again.
She felt dizzy at the thought of what she was concluding to herself, but it was true.
She had decided she would try to seduce Durgesh again, and if I was interested, then she was going to let me fuck her again.
Again and again.
Again and again.
Again and again.
She shook her head silently as she found herself moving from the kitchen to the stairs.
She smiled even though she told herself she should resist seeing me again and with Vinod Sharmā on his way home at that.
She climbed the stairs anyway.
She took several deep breaths as she walked the few steps down the hall to my room.
She took a moment to listen at my door, and upon hearing silence, she tapped my door lightly.
“Yes?” I answered.
She eased the door open and stepped just inside.
I was lying on my bed reading and looked up at her.
We both smiled knowingly at one another.
“Your Vinod will be home soon.” She held my look with her own.
“Uh, yeah. Okay.” I didn’t know what more to really say.
She continued to stand there, but her look went from pleasant to one of concern.
She looked down and spoke haltingly.
“I know what we did was so wrong. …”
I took her to be starting some sort of apology or confession of sorts, and I wanted her to stop thinking that way.
I jumped from bed and I interrupted her.
“Hey, everything’s fine.” I stood right in front of her.
My face peered down into hers.
I found her eyes showing a sparkle rather than a darkness.
I had affected her with my reaction.
She tilted her head slightly as she thought of the best way to explain.
She spoke softly back.
“No, no. I wasn’t going to apologize.”
“No?” My relief was clear in my tone.
She took a step closing some space between us, and she placed a hand gently against my chest.
“No, honey. Not at all.” She took in a breath, needing some effort to explain. “Actually, I was going to admit. …Um, I was going to admit that, even though I know it was wrong, I just loved it. That’s all. I was downstairs, and I could not stop thinking about it.”
I grinned appreciatively and brought her to me.
She continued what she wanted to say even as I embraced her.
She kept looking up at me, and even though I didn’t feel certain whether I should, I brought my face to hers.
I kissed Arundhatī Joshī fully, and I was relieved when I felt her kiss me back.
I felt her moan into my mouth and I kissed her passionately.
We pressed ourselves to each other tightly and she felt lightheaded and overwhelmed with excitement.
We kissed hard, and she felt my tongue work about urgently in her mouth.
She broke free of me and pulled back.
She looked up at me, and she adored the lust and heat I focused on her.
She felt very aroused, and at the same time, she felt a compulsion to please me.
“I can’t even describe the effect that today with you has had on me, Durgesh.” Then, she seemed to decide something, and she acted on one of the most carnal of thoughts to enter her mind.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
My abdomen was lean and defined, and she didn’t try to hide her gazing at me.
She stood still and absorbed what she saw.
No words came from either of us, but a couple of moments passed.
I watched her intently and we both knew she hadn’t just walked on out.
It was clear to both of us now that there was a distinct tension.
She spoke softly but clearly.
“We have to act responsibly here. You know?”
I just looked at her, and she felt a vulnerability with me.
Then she spoke again and immediately regretted what she chose to say.
“I have never cheated on your friend.”
She was turning again to leave when movement again got her attention.
She looked back and froze in place.
She watched my hands at my waist.
Her eyes followed my thumbs as they hooked into the band of my boxers and start them down.
She didn’t look away as I worked the fabric over my hips.
There was the black patch of pubic hair that first was revealed, but just afterwards there was the release of me at my Bachhalyā crotch as the boxers fell on away.
My long, engorged Bachhalyā shaft hung between my legs, and the large head pulsed where I was now fully exposed to her.
We both heard her gasp.
She took in the sight of me, and I savored watching the effect I had on her.
Her face tightened with intensity as it was clear she was flustered by me.
She swayed just a bit back and forth, and I wondered if she was showing some kind of indecision about whether to leave.
I felt myself twitch and harden more.
Arundhatī Joshī looked at my face and then back to my crotch.
With an unsteady awkwardness, she slipped back out the door.
I smiled triumphantly.*
I lay down and brought myself relief, thinking over the night and everything that had ensued.
I relished the forbidden nature of it all, but I especially liked and was titillated by how I had accomplished such an effect on my usually poised friend’s wife.
Arundhatī Joshī was stunned and confused in a way she
had never experienced.
She tried to get to sleep and just chalk the strange
evening up to the drinking, but the rational thoughts kept getting overwhelmed.
She went from reminding herself that she’d tried to make things right to the other part of the spectrum, where she knew she’d felt an incredible excitement at seeing me as she did.
Even more, she felt exhilarated at how turned on
she had become by all of it—the kisses, the groping and the confrontation at the end.
She tossed and turned, but eventually she had to admit to herself that she just couldn’t calm down.
In a last effort to assuage her restlessness, she let a hand pass to her middle.
Maybe she could just briefly comfort herself.
Her fingers found herself wet and hot to her own touch.
She swung her legs off the bed and launched onto her feet.
She padded her way over the carpet to the master bath, and closed herself inside.
Desperately, one hand reached to the sink counter for support, and the other hand went straight into her panties.
She stood fixed that way, as her mind reeled off the images of me standing in front of her showing her the biggest cock she had ever seen.
Her hand worked at herself in her panties.
She told herself the obvious—that I wanted to give it to her—and her head snapped back and she climaxed as hard as she had ever reached.
She gave multiple whispers as she kept herself from screaming as she really wanted.
The next morning brought the inevitable fog and hungover misery.
All three of us moved about slowly.
No doubt there were some others from the party suffering that morning, too.
But in our own household, all felt the damage from our party.
Arundhatī Joshī slowly made her way to the kitchen.
Her head pounded, and she felt queasy.
She saw me at the table and we exchanged quiet looks.
“Here, have a seat,” I politely gestured for her to take my seat, and I went to get her a cup of coffee.
She pulled her robe to her and sat down carefully. “You hungover, too?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Sure am.” She muttered.
I brought her the coffee, and I thought of something to say to try to lessen any embarrassment from the night before.
My friend always played golf on Saturdays, and I knew he’d soon be leaving, so maybe I’d wait to bring it up until after my friend left.
As if on cue, Vinod Sharmā could be heard coming down the stairs.
He sounded like he was racing down us.
Arundhatī Joshī reacted as if perplexed by what we heard, and we both turned to watch him appear.
Vinod Sharmā charged into the room.
“Don’t let me interrupt anything.”
Arundhatī Joshī and I looked at one another, smiled boldly, and looked back to Vinod Sharmā who was clearly upset.
Vinod Sharmā’s hands went to his hips and he talked in the mimic of someone repeating what we had heard from someone else. “Yeah, Arundhatī Joshī was drunk enough she was kissing on my friend, intead of me.” Vinod Sharmā’s face contorted into horror. “I couldn’t believe what I heard. ‘Kissing’? Each other?”
Vinod Sharmā stood transfixed.
I kept smiling.
Arundhatī Joshī was sitting straight in her chair and visibly alarmed.
“What in the hell were you possibly thinking?” Vinod Sharmā’s voice rose with each word.
His head jutted with rage as he looked at his wife. “Have you lost your mind? Tell me—have you gone crazy?”
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t speak.
She just looked up at me.
Her bottom lip quivered.
Vinod Sharmā shook his head in utter disbelief and then he spat more words.
“We have to live here, Arundhatī Joshī! For twenty years, we HAVE lived here. Do you give a damn what anyone thinks of us? What in the hell do you think of yourself?”
I felt horrible yet never helpless.
I had to say something.
“Vinod, it was really not like it sounds. It wasn’t anything bad. We were just kidding around is all.”
Vinod Sharmā shot his attention over to me. “WHAT? Yeah? And just what were YOU thinking?”
Arundhatī Joshī stood from the table as if reprieved when Vinod Sharmā looked at me.
She hurried from the kitchen and off to go upstairs.
Both Vinod Sharmā and I watched her make her escape.
Vinod Sharmā continued with me.
“I cannot even begin to tell you how disappointed I am with you. I thought I understood you better. I really did.”
Vinod Sharmā stormed from the room, his disgust not the slightest bit dissipated, it seemed.
He slammed the door to the garage as he couldn’t leave fast enough.
I stood gravely now alone in the kitchen, trying to process what had just happened.
The whole situation seemed surreal.
How angry my friend was, the fact that there’d been the kissing at the party, as well as the other stuff—it all seemed like it couldn’t really be happening to him.
Yet it was, and it had.
My friend had left as angry as I could remember him, and my friend’s wife had run upstairs obviously mortified.
I tried to assess how I felt at it all, but I found myself in a fog.
As I stood there, I found an irrational feeling within myself.
Inside me was an overwhelming desire I felt driven by.
I thought of her upstairs, and I immediately went bounding up the stairs to her.
She was lying on the bed in hers and Vinod Sharmā’s bedroom.
She was turned onto her left side and facing away from me as I stood in our doorway.
I walked slowly into the bedroom and to the bed.
I paused for a moment.
She didn’t look over to me, but she did seem to bring a hand to her eyes, as if she were dabbing at her eyes.
I eased onto the bed, and she still didn’t turn to me.
I lay next to her on her side and faced her back.
I thought of what I should say or do, but I stayed silent.
After some time, I brought a hand to her back and I started just rubbing her back.
My hand moved gently over her upper back, trying to soothe her, and her shoulders did relax some with my touch.
Neither of us spoke.
I wanted to say something to try to reassure her, but I kept rubbing her instead, bringing my hand to also massage her shoulders.
I liked that we were just silently being there together.
Even though my friend had just left to go play golf in the routine he always kept, they probably both thought this risky just the same.
My friend had been very angry, and if there was a time when he might break his routine, then this could be it.
I thought it unlikely.
Arundhatī Joshī stayed still, except for the way her back responded on its own to my gentle strokes of her.
She thought of just how gentle and good my hand felt on her back.
She had several thoughts swirl through her own mind as we lay there.
She was aware she was still in a fog from her hangover, and she felt a tired and resigned effect from the drinking.
She also felt a vulnerability lying there.
My hand moved easily over her, and we both no doubt noticed the thin, smooth fabric of her robe and slip she had on.
She had a warmth pass over her as she thought about that slip.
Black and somewhat discreet, it could nevertheless be revealing if she turned over, she realized.
This thought together with her awareness of us being on her bed gave her a nervous excitement she liked but was leery of at the same time.
Just the same, she didn’t move.
She let me be there with her.
Then, as she had accepted my presence there, the dynamic changed.
Her eyes widened as she felt my hand clutch her shoulder.
She knew it felt as though I was urging her to turn onto her back.
She didn’t at first turn completely over, but she did look over her shoulder to me.
She knew she must have looked concerned and maybe even afraid when she did.
I was looking directly into her eyes, and I was showing no concern.
I seemed sure.
She was acutely aware of my confidence and also of my proximity.
I was lying closer to her than she had expected.
She felt my hand at her shoulder pull at her, and at once her shoulder was lowering onto the bed.
She kept my eyes, but she also knew that she wouldn’t for long.
She knew the robe was apart.
The black, thin satin of her slip underneath the robe curved into her cleavage and it was only a matter of time before attention went there, she knew.
She felt her nipples harden and swell.
She fought the instinct to try to cover her chest.
She opened her mouth to speak, but at first she said nothing.
Then, weakly she spoke in just above a whisper.
“We can’t be here like this.”
Her eyes looked pleadingly to me.
I looked back at her with my expression seemingly set.
She knew this look.
I looked determined.
She simply inhaled deeply.
When she sighed, she shut her eyes.
I closed the distance between us and I kissed her.
She only let the kiss go a couple of seconds before she was moving her face away from me.
To her surprise, my hand urged her face and lips back to me and I kissed her more urgently.
She focused on the fullness of my Bachhalyā male lips and the sensation she felt, and my lips parted hers.
She gave a shrill sound into my mouth and then it was like she let herself respond.
Her mouth moved about my vigorously, as she sucked at my tongue.
Emboldened by her, I kissed her harder, pushing my tongue further into where she was opening wider.
We stayed locked and embraced, twisting on each other.
As her mind swirled, my face went to her neck.
She felt my lips kiss and suck at her, as I made a wet trail down her neck.
I kept going lower to where my face met her open chest.
The kisses continued and she could feel her top being opened.
One of my hands manipulated her top to where her left breast was openly exposed.
I couldn’t help but stare at the large brown, hard nipple angled at me.
It practically covered the pointed end of her, and I kissed it there, taking its swollen texture at my lips and then strongly sucking inward to bring it straight into my mouth.
We both heard her grunt at this.
Arundhatī Joshī squirmed at the roughness of my taking each breast back and forth into my mouth and trying to devour them.
Abruptly, she then felt my hands at her panties.
A fear seized her, and she reached for my hands as if suddenly trying to stop me.
I batted her hands away instinctively, and she started lurching up the bed as if in a panic.
We both heard her give frantic cries as if frightened.
She was still panting and with her eyes clenched shut, when she realized I wasn’t moving any more.
She eased her eyes open to see me sitting back on my legs and heels and just peering down at her.
The only sound to be heard was of her breathing slowing, and she lay still there before me.
The top of her slip was still apart, and both breasts still lay open and bare.
Arundhatī Joshī thought of her waist as being similarly exposed, and I must have reached the same thought, as my eyes went to her there.
Arundhatī Joshī had brought her legs up and together during our scuffle, and she still had them pressed together.
Her stomach was uncovered as was her waist.
Arundhatī Joshī saw my eyes stare at her there.
For a moment, she felt like I seemed contented to take in the sight of her.
It was as if I was absorbing her with my eyes.
I looked at her still erect nipples, and I brought my eyes down her body to where she had little left hidden.
My hands moved, and she flinched a bit.
She soon saw that my hands went to my own shirt.
I lifted it up and off myself.
Then, we both knew that it was she who was doing the looking, as her eyes surveyed all over my abdomen.
I was closer than the evening before, when she had seen me in my room.
This time there was a closeness that enabled her to see my skin taut over muscle and showing an apparent firmness.
We silently studied each other.
Arundhatī Joshī became very aware of how she was lying in front of me.
This together with my bare chest in front of her, affected her.
She felt a warmth throughout, and she felt herself react between her legs.
She felt herself uncontrollably moisten her lips with her tongue.
I moved up off my heels to where I was now kneeling before her prone figure on the bed.
Slowly and assuredly, I moved my sweats down my hips.
I again watched for her eyes, and I saw her eyes widen when my sweats released myself and it jerked up and down once it was away from the clothing.
I felt self-consciously aware of how completely exposed I was to her, but even more, I had a surge of emotion from seeing her stare wantonly at my erect ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund bobbing before her.
She only refocused on me when my hands went to rest on her knees.
Just as my abdomen had appeared differently the night before, my crotch now impressed her more with its jutting Bachhalyā male thickness protruding in her direction.
Her belly churned with the thoughts and emotions roiling within her.
She was at once struck by my Bachhalyā maleness and by my closeness.
When my hands came to her knees, she looked back to my face and she wondered how she must have looked at me.
Her hands had been at her sides, but she brought them to rest on me at her knees.
There was a moment where we both looked at each other with her hands atop me at her knees.
Then, her eyes blinked quickly a couple of times, and we both felt her move.
Her legs slowly lowered to where we were straightening out onto the bed.
As her legs lowered and her feet moved toward me, we encountered where I was still kneeling on my knees.
When her feet reached my knees, each foot moved to the opposite side of my knees to where they would be open and apart.
She saw my eyes dart down to where her thighs relaxed.
She saw my eyes stare at her between her legs and she noticed me pulse there over her.
Then she felt herself even wetter when she moved her legs further open and away from where I still knelt.
And with that, I was moving forward and over her.
My arms propped on each side of her and she put her hands to my chest.
I felt very solid to her touch, and she sensed heat on my skin.
She lifted her head slightly from the pillow to look down our bodies and view me.
Her eyes darted from my crotch to my face and back again.
She seemed to stare as if to try to comprehend.
Several moments passed and I just waited.
I liked observing her and seeing her react.
While still looking down there at me, she clenched her eyes shut, and then she let her head fall back to her pillow.
Her chest rose and fell with her breaths.
She opened her eyes and she looked forlornly at the ceiling.
Sensing her concern, I took her hand from where she had rested it at my chest.
I was going to take her a step at the time, I figured.
I wanted to relish her reaction at each step of the way.
When I took her hand in mine, she automatically remembered the night before and how I had done the same thing.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
He seemed to be sticking with just a couple of the other men.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t understand why it was that he didn’t move about or use this party as the occasion to mingle.
These were people they’d mostly known a good while, and she thought it best he be friendly and more open.
This holiday party was one of the social events Arundhatī Joshī always looked forward to.
She had picked out her form-fitting black dress weeks before, and her black heels were her favorites.
She liked especially when her friends noticed her choices, and she in turn appreciated theirs.
A couple of her friends were even very complimentary to her this year.
One had been so flattering as to compare her to the actress Anne Archer, and the way the actress had looked in a popular movie from years ago.
Arundhatī Joshī was guardedly aware of the comparison but didn’t say much about. She did take good care of herself, and she thought her bright eyes and full lips did accentuate whatever appeal she carried.
At 5’5″ and 120 pounds, she worked out regularly and ate carefully.
Arundhatī Joshī was proud she had maintained herself as she had.
This was regardless of whatever popular comparison was made of her to an actress.
A few minutes after nine o’clock, Arundhatī Joshī was near the front entrance of the clubhouse when she heard a newcomer being welcomed inside.
Her attention was piqued when she heard that deep, distinctive voice.
She’d recognize that voice anywhere, she knew.
She stepped quickly around a hall to the front entrance and then she let out a shriek.
“Heeyyyyyy!” She exclaimed upon seeing me.
My face brightened into a beaming smile, and I instantly embraced her.
“Hey, Arundhatī Joshī!” I answered as excitedly back to her as she had done with me. We hugged each other tightly, and those around us all smiled at our joy in seeing each other.
Arundhatī Joshī pulled back to look at me, and she talked of how I had already seemed to change.
We continued to hold onto each other as we quickly talked and started catching up.
After a few minutes, she took me by the arm.
Arundhatī Joshī ushered me on into the party and started showing me around.
Her first stop was with my friend, and while we may not have shown quite the excitement that Arundhatī Joshī and I had, it was still clear to her that Vinod Sharmā was glad to see me, their only friend in need.
Arundhatī Joshī slowly drifted back.
Shhe let me see others and mingle on my own.
She kept a watchful eye, as I easily roamed around seeing others just as effortlessly as she always managed.
She of course attributed that to herself and not to my more socially stunted and reserved friend, Vinod Sharmā.
Arundhatī Joshī also, for probably the first time, took notice of just what a man I was.
I clearly seemed more mature and more grown than she could ever remember seeing before.
I stood up straight and tall, always an imposing figure to her.
I had kept lean and athletic, and I was certainly handsome, making Arundhatī Joshī reassured that I was popular with the girls back at everywhere.
A friend of Arundhatī Joshī‘s ambled beside her and also looked over to me.
“Wow, Arundhatī Joshī. He’s really utmost handsome still at his Sixty Six even, you know?”
Arundhatī Joshī couldn’t get out a spoken response, and the truth was that she was probably a little oft put by having a friend of hers make such an adult comment about her husband’s friend.
Arundhatī Joshī just shrugged, but the friend offered more.
“I mean, he’s really the stud they claim.”
Arundhatī Joshī half-turned to her friend and playfully slapped at her.
Arundhatī Joshī gasped at the remark and they both snickered.
But as Arundhatī Joshī turned her attention back to me, she did exactly as the friend had suggested and she took in my arms and hands.
They appeared strong even at my Sixty Six and noticeably so.
Arundhatī Joshī mentally examined my hands and she felt a queasiness inside, as it registered with her that her friend had perceived correctly.
My hands did look more handsome than normal.
She turned back to her friend and she wondered if her friend had watched her eye me.
They just chuckled to one another, and they went for another drink.
Arundhatī Joshī didn’t know if the wandering observation meant she needed more to drink or whether it signaled she should stop.
It took but an instant for her to conclude that it meant for her to have another one.
As the evening wore on, she enjoyed her friends and neighbors, and she kept her glass refilled.
She felt such an excitement and happiness that she also replenished her husband’s glass as well.
She knew she was getting buzzed, but she also knew this was one of the few parties she really let herself relax at.
Besides, we were just a short walk from home.
During the party, she kept an eye on her husband, and she tried to see for herself just how much I actually did socialize.
She found herself regretting that he didn’t seem to try harder socially.
She believed that he would get more out of things like this party if he just put more effort into it.
Much to her tipsied surprise, she also found herself keeping an eye on me.
She liked how I did make the effort, and she was sure that I and she were so very alike at how we were both so social.
More than once, she found herself just watching me.
A couple of times, I caught her watching me, too.
I would just smile over at her and give some gesture.
Whether a small wave or a knowing nod, I never failed to acknowledge her.
Arundhatī Joshī felt an unusual mix of pride in me, together with a new-found appreciation for what an impressive ever young man I had become.
She wondered if I must have overnight reached this age where I was such a man.
She partially understood her take of me was influenced by the alcohol, and she warned herself to slow it down.
Arundhatī Joshī made her way carefully to the kitchen, and she poured the remaining drink she had into the sink.
She went to rest against the counter when she was pleasantly surprised by me moving right up next to her.
“Hey lady,” I smiled to her as if we shared a secret and she found herself feeling charmed by me. “Have you been a good girl this year?”
I openly laughed, and she did, too.
Arundhatī Joshī felt herself practically blushing and she let herself imagine I was almost flirting with her.
“Well, unfortunately, yes. I have.”
We laughed more at her playing along, and she shook her head at me.
She was definitely feeling the lightness from the wine when one of the guests in the kitchen chuckled and pointed towards her.
The few guests in the kitchen looked above Arundhatī Joshī‘s head and looked back down at her again, all of them smiling at what they’d seen.
Arundhatī Joshī was perplexed at first, and she looked overhead to see what they were looking at.
She found herself looking right up at a twig of mistletoe.
She looked back down and then over next to her.
She looked up at me, and when I grinned back at her, she just kept looking up to me.
Without really thinking why, she knew she was looking at me too long.
She was sure she was confounding me by putting me on the spot with herself under the mistletoe, but I surprised her right back.
It was like I didn’t miss a beat in answering her gesture of looking to me when I moved to her and took Arundhatī Joshī into my own arms.
I let it linger briefly, and she heard a couple of people reacting with ‘ahhhs’.
As soon as I pulled back, Arundhatī Joshī decided she wouldn’t be outdone.
This time Arundhatī Joshī lingered and she was surprised when I didn’t pull right away.
Was it romance?
Was Arundhatī Joshī in love with me, her husband’s friend?
When I did break our connection, Arundhatī Joshī felt an exuberant rush she didn’t expect.
She pulled my face back, and gave another quick kiss.
This seemed to challenge me, and amid some audible reactions from the guests who were watching, I kissed her right back and a bit more urgently.
My tongue was there and urgent itself, and it was the sounds of louder reactions from the other guests that finally prompted Arundhatī Joshī to release me.
We both laughed.
She knew her face was flush with the craziness of what had happened.
The other guests were buzzing in the background, but all she could do was look at me and quietly shake her head in amazement.
I smiled broadly.
Arundhatī Joshī took a long, confident pull on her drink.
She could only stare at me openly and feel a giddiness.
Without saying anything more, Arundhatī Joshī headed over to the hallway.
She was still dazed as she made her way to the stairs and headed to a bathroom.
I had certainly surprised her.
She figured she had surprised me, too.
Arundhatī Joshī was still feeling a lightness from her kisses with me, as she freshened herself in the upstairs bathroom before coming out.
She checked her hair and make-up in the mirror, and she was pleasantly amused when she realized she had to re-apply her lipstick.
She was incredulous that she was using more lipstick because of kissing me.
She chuckled to herself as she carefully dabbed at her full lips with the red gloss.
When she was contented with her composed look once more, she opened the door and started back out to the party.
As she got into the hall she flinched as she came directly in front of me.
I was standing right in front of her and grinning down at her.
She started grinning right back, and she drew a sharp intake of breath when I took her by the arm and pulled her into an adjoining room.
I closed the door behind us where we were then alone.
She felt shock as I was once again bringing my face to hers, and she shocked herself when she decided to just go with what I did.
I was kissing her again, and this time it was I who was opening my mouth to hers.
My tongue entered her mouth and wrestled with hers, and she started pulling back from me, only to feel me stay on her mouth. She felt herself relent to my kiss.
She felt the same giddiness she had started to feel in the kitchen only this time it was intensified.
The feel of me and the complete surprise of it caused her to stand there and just receive my forceful, full kiss.
She brought a hand to my chest and she was about to press it to my chest when I took her hand.
She felt my mouth move fervently on her own, and she thought I was about to break the kiss since she’d brought her hand up. Instead, she felt me move her hand.
I brought it down, and in a one smooth motion it went right on top of my Bachhalyā crotch.
Arundhatī Joshī immediately tensed and she shrieked into my mouth.
She pulled at her hand to bring it away, but I kept it pressed to me.
My tongue worked about in her mouth, and she felt herself instinctively react.
Arundhatī Joshī squeezed at me there and held it, deliberately now, entirely unashamed of herself.
Hey Bhagvān! God, Arundhatī Joshī never knew she loved me as her man so much.
She never knew.
She never knew.
Yet the proof was there.
She then felt my hand go quickly up under her dress and between her legs.
She absolutely could not believe I had my hand on her panties and was feeling her there.
As if the reality came in a jolt, she knew to stop.
“No,” she snapped, “no.” She yanked my hand from between her legs.
She looked to me and my face looked intense where I was clearly aroused and focused on her.
She smiled and shook her head.
I managed a smirk back.
She pushed to my side and escaped out the door, looking back over her shoulder to me as she moved away.
She wished she hadn’t been grinning as she was, but she couldn’t help it.
I grinned back as I watched her drift off to other females at the party.*
It wasn’t much longer before the three of us left the clubhouse and walked the couple of blocks home.
We arrived home.
It was as if Vinod Sharmā couldn’t wait to make it upstairs and collapse onto the bed.
Arundhatī Joshī noticed me stealing glances her way repeatedly, no doubt emboldened by what had happened between us.
As Vinod Sharmā started climbing the stairs, I looked at her once again as she went to follow Vinod Sharmā to bed.
She looked back at me, and there was a conspiratorial smile between Arundhatī Joshī and me.
When she kept going up the stairs to follow Vinod Sharmā to bed, I fell along behind them to climb up the stairs.
The three of us marched up the stairs.
We got upstairs.
Vinod Sharmā and Arundhatī Joshī started in one direction with me going the other.
We said our good nights.
Arundhatī Joshī again looked to a grinning me and shook her head as if in disbelief.
I kept her look as she went into the bedroom with Vinod Sharmā.
Arundhatī Joshī hadn’t yet started to undress and she felt compelled to say something to me.
She wasn’t sure what exactly, but as she gave Vinod Sharmā time to undress and ready himself for bed, she decided to go and speak to me.
Vinod Sharmā was falling into bed and into a certain stupor when she told him she’d be right back.
She mentally gathered herself to comfort me and tried to compose her thoughts as she went down the hallway.
A mix of feelings swirled within her, as she knew she had to be the authoritative voice of reason, but yet she was also still enjoying the playful side of whatever was going on.
She got to my bedroom door and she took a deep breath.
Usually, she might knock first, but she decided just to let herself in.
She quietly pushed the door open and slipped just inside.
She closed it back, but she didn’t move further, staying where she was leaning back against the door.
When she entered, I turned to her from where I was across the room.
We both froze and stared at each other.
I was in a t-shirt and boxers, and she managed to stay focused on my face.
“Hey.” She said meekly, when she had intended to come across as authoritative.
“Hey,” I responded and my voice sounded deep and rich to her.
Her mouth parted to say something, but at first no words came.
She instantly knew she’d made a mistake.
She surprised even herself at feeling so disinclined to act firmly with me.
“Um, I’m not sure what happened back there,” she started but I interrupted her, sounding clearly more certain than her.
“You’re not?” I sounded disbelieving her.
I crossed my arms and leaned back Imyself this time, using a desk in my room to prop against.
“No, um,” she hated sounding so unsteady as she heard her words come slowly.
Then, against better judgment, she let her eyes look downward and we surveyed my barely clad body.
Her eyes noted the thin boxers I had on, and there was a large, considerable lump in the middle of them.
She looked quickly back up to my face, but I was grinning appreciatively at her apparent interest.
She shook her head and tried to change her tone.
“I was out of line tonight. …”
“It was both of us who felt what we did.”
“Well, we shouldn’t have done that.” She sounded a bit more firm and resolved, she figured.
I seemed to relax my stance just a bit, as my arms unfolded and I simply put them at my sides.
I softened the look on my face and spoke as if to reassure her.
“It’s okay. Really it is. We were both into it, you know?”
Arundhatī Joshī stood more forward and the concern now came through in her voice.
“Durgesh, no. No, it’s not okay. For goodness sake, I’m your friend’s wife. And… I’m married after all.”
She immediately regretted she’d added such an obvious fact, but she was feeling shaken by my attitude about this.
I leaned just forward, too.
I looked at her caringly and spoke softly as if trying to calm her. “Hey, we are both adults. And… .”
I paused and we both were aware she hung on my words for my thought.
I continued in a slightly more hushed tone.
“And we both liked it.” I grinned.
She closed her eyes at my saying that aloud, and then looked back at me and replied.
“Well, we got carried away with all the alcohol and all. But nothing like that can happen again.” She said it in a gentle way and with a slight smile, and she started opening the door to leave.
She had the door ajar, but had yet to leave, when my movement gave her pause.
She looked to me, and I was stripping my t-shirt away.
I let it slip to the floor and then I stood straight, facing directly at her.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The New Order taking place
Durgesh Lubnā Al Ħamīd
I noticed that a shadow fell across my back.
Having turned 66 I was the man of the house now.
I turned towards the sun to see the bronzed legs of Ħamīdah, dressed in her skimpy tennis outfit.
When she reached up to serve, she was probably completely exposed.
As she towered over me, I blinked back the sweat that rolled down my brow, trying to get a better look at her beautiful body.
Her narrow ankles flared at her toned calves, from all that tennis at home and at the club.
Her thighs were on the large size, due undoubtedly again, to all that tennis.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot mound was quite prominent, since my nose was just inches from it.
Could I smell the rich aroma of a woman’s, leaking Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot?
The smell of earth and plant matter from my morning work masked that rich Musalmān aroma.
The small outward curve of her tummy accentuated her wasp thin waistline.
From down here, near her exciting smelling Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, her breasts hung over me like a veranda on a beautiful house.
From my crouching position it was easy to see why she was the main object of my many shower sessions.
Her husband, Al Ħamīd, the president of the largest bank in town got the other city father’s to give Lubnā and me this house after Al Ħamīd was killed thwarting an armed robbery at his bank.
They gave us this 3 bedroom house on the Al Ħamīd estate in gratitude for his selfless deed.
Personally, Lubnā would rather have Al Ħamīd than this house, but life does not always work that way.
Lubnā’s luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān body shaded me from the meanest part of the noon day sun, as a heady aroma from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot wafted across my nose.
Guess she worked up a sweat playing tennis on her court behind the trees, because there was a prominent wet spot in her crotch.
I reached up to wipe the sweat from my brow, when she said,
“No. Let me do that.”
Her left hand steadied my jaw turning my face towards her as she bent over, at the waist, and reached out with her right wrist and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the cotton wrist band she used when playing tennis.
Of course, this forced my face within inches of her melon sized breasts which had just been an exciting veranda.
There was a wonderful sprinkling of freckles on the upper slopes, and I could see a bit of the puckered flesh nipple before it disappeared into her lacy bra.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was hard as a rock and pushing the front of my shorts to the limit, when I heard her say in a very husky voice,
“See something you like?”
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was now running the show completely as I leaned towards her to capture one of those melons in my palm.
“Durgesh. Lunch is on! Get a quick shower and let’s eat!” Lubnā yelled from the kitchen breaking the spell that Lubnā had cast over me and my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund.
I ripped my eyes from Al Ħamīdah’s cleavage and looked into her eyes.
An expression of loss swept across her pretty Musalmān face.
“Another time. Durgesh.”*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār could never forget I myself showed her the tremendous newsroom of HVSI Times, when she visited.
It was a great honor for Al Jihad Al Vaqār that I was so much interested myself to show her how the utmost popular newspaper of HVSI functioned.
“I have never seen so many desks,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said with mounting excitement.
“One thousand eight of them,” I pulled her to me using my left hand around her slim waist already, “and the newsroom is over five acres.” I scanned the room and pointed, “Look down this row to the right. About the tenth one down. You can’t miss it – it’s the only clean desk on the floor. That’s the metropolitan section.”
“For Ved Nagar exclusively?”
I got up slowly brushing against Al Ħamīdah’s thigh, hip and breast as she was firmly within my personal space and did not budge as my sweaty body rubbed against her.
Actually, I could see, hear, and feel her gasp as my shoulder and chest met her lovely, round melon Musalmān breast.
“Durgesh” from the house set Lubnā in motion as she sashayed towards the opening in the fence between her mansion and our house.
My eyes locked on those firm Musalmān globes of her, obviously toned, ass cheeks.
At the opening in the fence, she glanced over her shoulder to see me ogling her beautiful Musalmān ass.
A smirk of a smile swept across her face before she swished her ponytail and was gone.
I stacked the cinder blocks that I had knelt on beside the back step as I entered the house.
“Who were you talking to?”
I told her that Ħamīdah was shagging some tennis balls and we spoke just before she called me.
A shadow swept across Lubnā’s face before she said,
“Hurry with your shower. Don’t want lunch to get cold.”
Did she glance at my shorts and see my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund standing at attention?
I went up the stairs two at a time and hit the shower.
I wanted to take my time and relieve my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund, but that would have to wait till I had the proper amount of time I needed to re-live this last encounter with Ħamīdah.
After drying, I slipped on a tee shirt and nylon running shorts.
Didn’t immediately see my flip-flops, so I went back down stairs bare foot.
When I came into the kitchen, Lubnā was standing at the kitchen sink with her hands on spread on each side of her and her head canted slightly to the right.
Lubnā was at least 6 inches shorter than Ħamīdah, who was probably about 5 foot 2 inches tall.
I slipped up behind her, quietly, placed my lips near her neck, and said, “Hi! Gorgeous. What are you thinking about?”
She shuddered and leaned back against me wiggling her tight Musalmān ass against the front of my shorts.
She always tried to seduce me either this way or that.
My lips came in contact with her neck, and I could feel the goose flesh pop up, so I kissed her and slid my lips to her ear.
She took my hands, which I had placed on each side of her, and brought them up to her breasts.
I started to pull away, but she held them firmly in place and forced me to squeeze them gently with her hands.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was back at attention and pressing between Lubnā’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass cheeks as she ground her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān ass against me in a circular motion.
Soon my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was sawing up and down her gorgeous Musalmān ass crack and my hands were squeezing her large, firm breasts with abandon.
She reached down, pulled her skirt above my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund, and then tugged my shorts down enough so his head would rub against her panties.
In a low, guttural voice, she said,
“Yes! Fuck me Durgesh. Fuck me hard.”
On one of my pullbacks, my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund slid between Lubnā’s legs and she spread them to welcome him.
It did take either of us more than countless strokes before we both came like crazy.
I squirted inside her as I felt her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān cum wash over my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund .
Lubnā sagged against me and meowed a very contented purr as I kissed her neck with my open mouth.
Like a flash of lightning, Lubnā stood up straight and pushed me back with her butt before pulling her skirt down.
She turned in my arms, and said,
“Get over there and eat your lunch, ever young Hindu man!”
A look was on her face that I had not seen since before her husband was killed.
She reserved a stern, flint hard expression for me when I committed the most grievous crime around the house.
I looked deep into her flinty eyes and she said,
“Pull up your shorts and get over there and eat! NOW!”
I walked, on wooden legs, to the breakfast nook, slid in, and looked down at my plate.
What the hell just happened?
What did we just do?
Why did it happen?
I only did what she wanted, why was she yelling at me?
I could have been eating barbed wire for all I knew.
My mind was replaying every step of the last.
She is my Lubnā. I love her without condition.
I know she loves me, but Lubnās and Durgeshs don’t do that.
Every Lubnā and Durgesh do it now everywhere.
Even if some Lubnā’s husband, some Al Ħamīd comes in the way, he is removed by the System now, this way or that way.
It’s Infinite BrāhmKalp now.
Or, so they claimed.
Lubnā was only twenty-eight years old now, yet she was a widow and I had to fuck her now.
What triggered it?
I know I was horny from my encounter with Ħamīdah, but Lubnā?
She had not been out of the house since Lubnā gave her that red evening dress the year after her husband died, and they all went to the club.
Next morning, she made me take the dress back to Lubnā.
I guess Lubnā was horny too.
Too much pent up desires.
After all, she had devoted her life to me after her husband was killed. Scouts, PTA, Soccer, Football, Debate class.*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār began to read this morning’s edition of HVSI Times.
She had taken it from a pile at the foyer entrance to the newsroom.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār wondered appreciating it immensely how I manage to serve mostly only positive news to my readers, viewers and audiences and could still manage to be number One.
Most of the news channels and newspapers never believed they could even survive if they didn’t serve negative news tremendously.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār skipped the SARC news and other foreign dispatches, skimmed, scanned the national news from New Delhi and concerned on the metropolitan news.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār had become engrossed in this seemingly endless parade of the pleasure.
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
She heard her before she saw her.
“Ms. Nellie Bly, I presume?” Her voice carried a lilt of immense appreciation.*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s head came back.
She looked up as Bābarah Åālamgīr added.
“I’m Bābarah Åālamgīr, at your service, ma’am.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār scrambled to her feet.
She was somewhat surprised and disconcerted, unsettled, by Bābarah Åālamgīr’s immensely good looks.
She had expected HVSI Times’ best investigative reporter to resemble an aggressive ferret or a mole.
Instead, Bābarah Åālamgīr resembled an aging collegian that could easily win any damn beauty contest with excellence.
Bābarah Åālamgīr had gray eyes, absolutely marvelous gray eyes meant to take any woman immensely jealous of her and any worthy young man crazy to get her.
Moreover, as so many investigative reporters did, Bābarah Åālamgīr didn’t smell any breath spray.
“Yeah. HVSI is a democratic organization spread almost everywhere.”
We walked Al Jihad Al Vaqār about the endless newsroom, introducing her to a blur of receptive editors and reporters, mostly young Musalmān ladies, as Bābarah Åālamgīr tried to explain the organization of the newsroom.
It was similar to the organization of her own newspaper, only there was more of it, very very much more.
I pointed out the location of the desks of the metropolitan editors, national editors, foreign editors, and the partitioned offices holding the sports desks, financial desks, culture desks.
Most of this was from the HVSI Times’ own special correspondents, the rest of them were HVSI Press, news agency, PTI and other similar news agencies’ sources.
The flood of words pouring in dazed Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
“How many words come in here every day?” she wondered.
I looked at her,
“You mean just on the wires? Or from our local reporters, police headquarters, City hall, and in general?”
“About a million and three quarters words every twenty four hours. We print about 150, 000 of those words.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār groaned.
“How’ll a reporter ever get a word in edgewise?”
“It’s not how much a reporter gets in,” I told Al Jihad Al Vaqār, “If s/he makes it as an investigative reporter, her/his words will get in, plenty of them.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār trailed us through one department and office after another – advertising with its staff of 500, the morgue with its rows of clipping files, the reference library with its thousands of books, the picture editor’s offices and finally the composing room.
Each story came out there in computerized strips that were cut up, pasted onto boards, converted into plates that were photographed electronically.*
Lubnā came back from upstairs dressed in a cotton, print house dress that clung to her every curve without meaning to do that.
She did not speak or look at me, just slid into her place and began eating.
My mind spun like a wooden top.
When the last scrap on my plate was gone, I could not remember what I had just eaten.
I turned to Lubnā, whose face was down and said,
“When you are finished cleaning up, I want to talk to you in the living room.”
She did not look up or acknowledge that I had spoken.
I went to the living room and sat on the couch thinking about what I would say to Lubnā.
I went round and round and most everything sounded more like my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund talking than me.
I was going over everything for the 20th time when Lubnā came in.
She started to sit in the chair across the room, when I got up and guided her to the couch.
I sat her next to me and she burst into tears.
I pulled her to me, and could feel her sobbing and my tee shirt got wet from her tears.
I stroked her back in the best soothing motions I could manage while my mind boiled over with all the thoughts and emotions that I could manage. As her sobs subsided, I whispered into her hair,
“I love you with all my heart, Lubnā.”
This brought on another avalanche of sobs.
I patted her for a few minutes and then pulled her chin up and kissed her firmly on the lips.
Her eyes popped wide open, she pushed me back and said,
“Durgesh! This is wrong. I am your Bahū Bégum.”
I held her gaze steadily and said,
“No Lubnā. What is wrong is that both of us are living under this roof and we are both completely in need of sex. You need it even more than me. That’s why you never listened to me when I opposed it myself.”
“I’m sorry to suck you when you were asleep.”
“You didn’t only suck me you fucked me too wildly after sucking me.”
“You could have stopped me. You were never asleep. You were only pretending to be.”
“I didn’t want to insult you. I never insult a woman if she offers herself to me.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
There were lots of crazy parties with women who wanted to have sex with me.
I hooked up with a bunch of them.
I’m not dating anybody seriously.
I really just wanted to concentrate on getting good women.
Although, I loved going to frat parties and certainly enjoyed loose women.
I was going to be spending the summer with my friend and his wife in Florida for the summer.
I was really looking forward to sleeping late, hanging by the pool, long soaks in the hot tub, and fun in the sun at the beach.
I didn’t plan on doing anything other than those things.
My friend would be out of town for the first month that I’ll be home.
He was doing volunteer work in Africa.
My friend was a wealthy man.
He owned ten car dealerships here in Florida.
He didn’t really work much these days.
He was more of a philanthropist.
He had always wanted to do work in Africa.
They were building a new hospital and he wanted to be involved with it.
He did say he’d make it up to me when he gets home.
Of course, Lajjā Mukherjī, his wife, would be home.
Lajjā Mukherjī was my friend’s little princess.
She didn’t do a damn thing.
I guess with her body and her looks she really didn’t have to do much.
I guess she was a trophy wife.
I wouldn’t mind having her on my arm.
She was a knockout.
Lajjā Mukherjī was thirty years old and my friend was sixty.
He really gets a kick out of her.
He treated her like his little prized Barbie doll.
I think he really gets off by it.
He bought her anything she wanted and even plastic surgery if she wanted that too.
I knew he had her breasts done, not sure she had any other work.
I often wonder if she cheated on my friend.
I didn’t know if she would.
She had a really wonderful life and I was sure she’d never want to fuck that up.
All she had to do is just look good.
She didn’t clean or cook.
He has people to do that for them.
She just had to always look like an absolute doll.
He must fuck her a lot.
I bet he popped Viagra all damn day to keep up with her.
I haven’t seen her since last summer, but Lajjā Mukherjī really makes my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund hard.
She was very fit and always going to yoga classes.
Lajjā Mukherjī was 5’8″ and she had long blond hair, which she always put in an elastic band.
She had blue eyes and the longest legs.
Her breast implants were about a 38D.
My friend loved for her to wear very skimpy clothing.
My pants always get a little tight when looking at her body.
Lajjā Mukherjī was quite the flirt and loved to get a reaction out of people.
She loved me to want her.
It’s a whole little act that she does.
I really didn’t know if she’d really want to cheat, but I guess if my friend wasn’t around she might.
I guess time would tell.
I just arrived at the airport.
I walked over to the check-in desk and showed them my boarding pass and my airline ticket.
I checked my luggage and then proceeded to the security area.
After I was cleared, I then went to a coffee shop in the airport and bought a coffee and a magazine for the trip.
As I was waiting for the announcement to board our plane, I had noticed a lot of attractive women who were traveling alone.
Some of them were dressed to kill and I was hoping that I’d be lucky enough to sit next to one of them.
After about an hour, they finally made the announcement to board the plane.
All the passengers started to walk onto the plane.
Once inside the plane, I went to the overhead compartment and put my bag up inside the storage area.
My seat was by the window. I sat down and got myself comfortable.
I was pretty excited, one of the attracting looking babes sat down next to me.
She was really hot.
She had on a very short black dress.
She had enormous tits.
She was a blonde with blue eyes and she was really leggy.
She was really in great shape.
I knew this would be a fun trip.
I was already starting to get hard in my jeans.
It wasn’t a terribly crowded flight.
Thankfully, nobody else sat in the row.
It was just her and myself.
“Hey, I am Sudhā Pandyā.”
“Nice to meet you. I am Durgesh.”
“I am so glad to sit next to a hunk.”
“I am glad to be sitting next to a goddess.”
“You’re very sweet. I like you.”
We giggled and we put on our seat belts.
The stewardesses went over the safety instructions and then we were getting ready to take off.
The plane then got up into the air without any problems.
The stewardesses started to come around with the drink carts.
We were in the middle of the plane.
Sudhā Pandyā‘s dress was too tight.
She had huge breasts.
I’d say she was 38D, kind of like Lajjā Mukherjī.
I was really hoping to have some fun with this babe in the air.
I was definitely wanting to fuck her and be part of the mile high club.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nobody steady. I go to college at the University of Alaska as an honorary Professor of Psychology. I was going to be staying at my friend’s for the summer.”
“That sounds lovely. I also go to the University of Alaska. I’ve never seen you there. In the fall, it’ll be my last year. I probably would continue and get my master’s degree. Nowadays, it seems you need to have that type of a degree.”
“I just finished up teaching my first year. We’ll have to exchange numbers so we can go out sometime. I’d love to see you again.”
“That would be really great. It’s nice to have interesting and gorgeous friends.”
Sudhā Pandyā put her hands on my thigh and she whispered into my ear.
“You’re really hot. I am so horny. Do you want to have some fun?”
I smiled at her with a wicked grin.
It was almost like she was reading my mind.
With that, she stood up and got a blanket out of the compartment storage.
She sat down and moved her dress up.
She wasn’t wearing any panties.
She spread her legs and put the blanket over her lap.
She was one slutty bitch.
I fucked her.
Sudhā Pandyā was so wet.
I was so horny and needed to fuck her.
She was moaning softly.
I could see her erect nipples showing through her dress.
She obviously was not wearing a bra.
I whispered in her ear.
“Go into the bathroom. I am going to fuck you. I’ll follow you in.”
“Thanks,” Sudhā Pandyā too whispered in my ear.
It was dangerous to her future.
The safe bet was only to have sex with me.
Sudhā Pandyā didn’t want to lose this golden chance.
She deliberately did it.
She had put detectives on me.
As soon as Sudhā Pandyā was informed that I was on the plane she successfully managed her seat beside me.
No more Brāhmañ husband.
Sudhā Pandyā had now enough of it.
He suddenly found himself suffering from his false arrest.
Barrister Kamal Nayan Pandyā looked at his daughter curtly.
“Leave him, Sudhā. Let Manohar live. The sooner you leave Manohar, the sooner he would come out of jail.”
“I love him.” Sudhā Pandyā protested.
“You are ruining Manohar, and yourself too.”
Barrister Kamal Nayan Pandyā said sternly.
“You are killing Manohar Pāŧhak. He has already been sentenced to death penalty.”
Sudhā Pandyā surrendered.
She refused to marry Manohar Pāŧhak.
Within a week Manohar Pāŧhak was out of jail and the real culprit was apprehended.
He suddenly found himself suffering from nonstop negative circumstances.
Sudhā Pandyā left him too.
Prem Prakāsh Chaturvedī married her friend, Shakīlah Sultān, and gone abroad.
I was Sudhā Pandyā’s third effort.
She then pulled her dress down and walked into the bathroom.
I shortly followed her and she let me in.
Once inside of the very small bathroom, we kissed deep and passionately.
Our tongues danced in each other’s mouth.
She took off her dress, I pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet.
She put my cock at the entrance to her cunt and eased down on my cock.
Her cunt was so fucking wet.
I put my hands around her enormous tits and held them in my hands.
I squeezed them together and played with her hard nipples.
She put her hands on her knees and fucked my cock.
Her pussy felt so fucking good.
I bucked up inside her pussy.
“Hey Bhagvān! Oh God. I was so horny. You have the best cock. Come inside of me.” Sudhā Pandyā invited me.
I was fucking her fast.
I knew we didn’t have much time.
She then stood up and wiped the come with some toilet paper.
We kissed deep and passionately and I helped her put her dress back on.
I pulled my pants back up and she walked back to her seat.
I took a piss and then met her back on our seats.
I sat down and she had the biggest smile on her face.
“That was so hot. You have an amazing Bachhalyā cock. Thank you.”
“No problem. You’re a hot little fuck aren’t you? Do you do this a lot?”
“That was my first time. I always wanted to have sex in a plane. Thanks.”
“I had a blast. You’re one sexy babe. Hot Damn!”
I was pretty happy that we had fucked.
We exchanged numbers and agreed we’d get together once we were back.
She was just going to be visiting Florida for a few days and then she’d be back on a plane to New York for the summer.
She had gotten an internship at some fashion company.
We eventually landed and got off the plane and went through security.
I went to baggage claim to collect my bags.
I then saw Lajjā Mukherjī.
I couldn’t believe what she was wearing.
She looked so fucking hot.
She had on this little denim skirt, with a red tube top, and heels.
Her nipples were poking out of her tube top.
“Durgesh, over here!”
“Hey, Lajjā Mukherjī? How are you doing?”
I gave Lajjā Mukherjī a hug and a kiss.
She of course felt my erection in my jeans.
I just knew this was going to be an interesting day.
“You look great. You’ve really filled out. You must have been hitting the gym at college. You’ve turned into quite a handsome and strapping ever young man.”
“Lajjā Mukherjī, you’re not much older.”
We both giggled.
I was thinking she was the hottest wife on the planet.
She really could be my girlfriend.
My friend was one lucky guy.
“Let’s go home. I have a limo waiting for us.”
We walked out and got into the limo.
Lajjā Mukherjī looked amazing.
I was feeling really good since I just fucked Sudhā Pandyā in the bathroom.
But, looking at Lajjā Mukherjī was making me feel horny again.
“How is college going?”
“It was a great year.”
“That’s excellent. Your friend would be very pleased.” Lajjā Mukherjī smiled, “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nobody serious. Just lots of girls wanting to hook up. I was happy.”
“I bet you’re happy.”
“You look great, Lajjā Mukherjī.”
“Do you want some champagne? Open the bottle. Let’s celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?”
I popped the champagne and poured Lajjā Mukherjī a flute of it.
“To a wonderful summer.”
We clicked glasses and she drank the bubbly champagne.
She had about three glasses.
I saw that Lajjā Mukherjī had shut her eyes.
I was just glancing over her hot body.
Eventually, we got home.
I followed Lajjā Mukherjī into the house.
“I was going to unpack and then take a shower. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“I called some of my friends to come over and take a swim. I think you’ll like them. See you later. Come down and hang out with us by the pool.”
I went upstairs and unpacked.
I then went into the shower.
While I was in there, I was thinking about Lajjā Mukherjī.
I continued washing my body and then I got out of the shower.
I wrapped a fluffy towel around myself and put my swimming trunks on.
I went downstairs and went outside.
Lajjā Mukherjī and her two friends were hanging out in the hot tub.
They were drinking and laughing and having a great time.
The sun was shining it was a rather warm day.
“Nice to meet you ladies.”
“You didn’t tell us how gorgeous he is.”
“I haven’t seen him in a while. He was very tasty looking.”
“Why didn’t you sit in the tub with us?”
“You must take your bathing suit off. We’re all naked in here.”
I took my bathing suit off and got into the water.
I was pretty stoked that I was in a hot tub with three gorgeous young ladies.
I sat next to Lajjā Mukherjī and she immediately put her hand on my Bachhalyā cock.
She was stroking me.
One of her friends was on the other side and she was playing with my balls.
It didn’t take any time whatsoever for me to get hard.
I had a raging hard on.
Now I just needed to get fucked.
Any of them would do.
“You know we could really have some fun today, Durgesh. Your friend lets me have sex when he is out of town. Usually with my girlfriends. We just won’t tell him that you and I are having sex. We’re not related anyhow. I have always wanted to have sex with you.”
“I am totally for it. Let’s do it. I won’t tell my friend a damn thing.”
“Do you want to fuck us, Durgesh?”
“Fuck yes. I’ll fuck you all. Hop on my Bachhalyā cock. Who wanted to be first?”
Lajjā Mukherjī hopped up on me in the hot tub.
She put her legs on either side of mine.
She made sure to get it all inside of her and then started to rock and move over my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
She was really tight.
I started to buck up inside of her.
I was squeezing on her erect Brāhmañ nipples, while we were fucking.
“Let us too fuck him.”
“You can fuck him later. He is mine right now.”
I was fucking her deep and hard.
“I am going to come. Oh fuck. I am coming.”
We kissed deep and passionately and then she hopped off me.
“Let’s take Durgesh inside. We can all suck his cock and he can lick our pussies.”
Lajjā Mukherjī laughed.
Then Smr’ti Kulkarñī asked.
“What do you mean?”
“We can suck Durgesh’s ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund as much as we want. But Durgesh would never lick our pussies.”
Ābhā Upādhyāý was furious.
“Why not? We are Brāhmañ girls. We are the most cleanest of all of women.”
“‘Brahmcharyéñ kanyā yuvānam vindaté patim’, what does it mean then?”
Lajjā Mukherjī smiled.
“That’s the problem. Traditional Brāhmañs don’t have any Vedic background for what they are doing now.”
“Are you changing your denomination now? You are talking as if you already belong to Durgesh’s Saur Sampradāý, instead of our Brāhm Sampradāý.”
Lajjā Mukherjī smiled.
Smr’ti Kulkarñī said curtly.
“What’s there to be proud of? Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī herself announced we Brahmkanyās and Brahmāñīs both need a Bachhalyā husband. She rejected a Brāhmañ husband outright for us Brahmkanyās and Brahmāñīs even. They are most unreliable for us. They can surrender to Celibacy anytime. They can choose to Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat and opt for severities for Muslimāt. That’s what this damn Infinite BrāhmKalp is.”
We all got out of the hot tub.
Lajjā Mukherjī’s friends were all knock outs.
They all were blondes and all had implants.
I’d say they all had 38D tits.
They were all thin with blue eyes and bodies to die for.
I was pretty excited that these traditional Brāhmañ bitches were going to suck on my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund now.
I have a seven inch cock. I keep my cock and balls shaved. Smr’ti Kulkarñī and Ābhā Upādhyāý held my hand and I followed Lajjā Mukherjī into the house.
We went upstairs to her bedroom.
“I’ll ride his face and you traditional Brāhmañ girls can suck his ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund. I want to feel my husband’s Bachhalyā friend’s Bachhalyā male lips on my Communist traditional Brāhmañ snatch.”
I got comfortable on the bed.
Lajjā Mukherjī stood up on either side of my head and squatted down.
She had the prettiest cunt ever.
Each traditional Brāhmañ young lady sucked on one of my balls.
They both were on either side of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund. Smr’ti Kulkarñī kissed and licked my Bachhalyā shaft on the left and Ābhā Upādhyāý did the same on the right side.
Smr’ti Kulkarñī was holding my one ball and sucking the other one.
It felt like heaven.
“Let me suck him now.”
Ābhā Upādhyāý took my cock out of her mouth and then Smr’ti Kulkarñī started to suck my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
She brought her Kulkarñī Mahñrāshŧrian Brāhmañ mouth all the way down on my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and then all the way back up.
Smr’ti Kulkarñī really did the most amazing blow jobs.
Ābhā Upādhyāý was sucking on both of my Bachhalyā balls.
Ābhā Upādhyāý then got on top of me.
She rocked and moved on my stiff ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund. Smr’ti Kulkarñī hoped up on my face and I kissed and loved her beautiful Deshasth Brāhmañ Choot.
Ābhā Upādhyāý was fucking me really good.
Lajjā Mukherjī then pulled out my cock.
She rubbed some lube on Ābhā Upādhyāý’s Upādhyāý Brāhmañ ass and slid my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund into her Upādhyāý Brāhmañ ass.
Lajjā Mukherjī held Ābhā Upādhyāý’s ass and I fucked her.
Ābhā Upādhyāý started to orgasm around my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and then I blew my load in her Upādhyāý Brāhmañ Choot.
“Well that was lots of fun.”
“Fucking yes. It was a ball.”
I think we’re going to have an amazing summer. I think you’ll be our permanent boy toy now.
“How does that sound?”
“It sounds like a dream. I’d love to fuck you beautiful traditional Brāhmañ ladies whenever you want. I was sure it’ll be an awesome summer. Hell, I’ll feel like Charlie and his angels. Remember that silly show?”
We all giggled.
Lajjā Mukherjī went to take a shower and got ready for bed.
I went to my room, watched some television and eventually fell asleep.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Coasting to a stop in front of the house, Nishikānt Joshī was surprised to see his wife’s Green Mercedes parked in the driveway.
Urmi Upādhyāý had found work as a teller in a branch office of a big downtown bank a couple of years ago.
She was a hard worker and had already received a number of pay raises.
The hours were okay. Urmi Upādhyāý only had to work half-days on Saturday, and even that only one in four weekends.
This Saturday wasn’t on her schedule, though, and today wasn’t her day off even if it had been.
Nishikānt Joshī didn’t know why Urmi Upādhyāý was home.
It concerned him because it was so out of character for her.
He walked quickly around the side of the house and in through the kitchen door.
The door hinges were well lubricated.
After all, Nishikānt Joshī was a building contractor.
It was a matter of professional pride to make sure small repairs around the house were taken care of immediately.
Everything was well maintained.
He liked things that way.
He hated squeaks, drawers that didn’t open, windows that didn’t close right…things like that drove Nishikānt Joshī crazy.
Neither the screen door nor the kitchen door itself made any perceptible noise when Nishikānt Joshī opened them.
The couple he could see through the doorway into the living room ostensibly wouldn’t have heard Nishikānt Joshī anyway.
Urmi Upādhyāý and I were too involved with each other.
Nishikānt Joshī froze in his tracks when he saw Urmi Upādhyāý and me.
He’d never contemplated seeing his wife in my arms, even kissing me.
And he’d surely never thought to see me cupping Urmi Upādhyāý’s bare right breast and working the nipple to a dark red erection with a rapidly moving thumb.
Urmi Upādhyāý was naked to the waist.
Nishikānt Joshī saw her blouse and bra draped across the couch just beyond her.
Her partial nakedness said the hand job was only a preliminary.
She brought her hand up to my chest and ground her lower body against mine.
“Was it worth the wait?” she asked seductively.
A red-hot fury engulfed Nishikānt Joshī.
He didn’t think; he couldn’t.
He could only react.
One moment he was frozen in shock.
With his next heartbeat, he was moving swiftly forward, striding purposefully through the kitchen and partway into the living room.
Planting his left foot solidly on the carpet, he brought his right one up in a tight arc that ended in my crotch.
At the last moment, I sensed something behind me…a whisper of Nishikānt Joshī’s shoes on the carpet perhaps, or his looming presence.
She probably wouldn’t have been hurt if I’d kept still.
It was only the steel-reinforced tip of the boot that slammed into Nishikānt Joshī’s butt but it was more than enough.
Sensitive nerve endings fired instantly, sending simultaneous pain signals to Nishikānt Joshī’s badly confused brain.
For a long moment Nishikānt Joshī didn’t have any breath to scream.
It had been driven from his body by the sudden intense pain in Nishikānt Joshī’s abdomen.
Nishikānt Joshī stumbled against the sofa and clung to it for an instant.
Her normally pleasant features were twisted into a rictus of tormented rage.
She’d been planning to do further damage to Nishikānt Joshī in front of me but it was abruptly clear nothing more was required.
Nishikānt Joshī began to scream in a high-pitched voice that filled the room.
He collapsed to the floor and began to writhe in agony.
The excruciating pain was overwhelming, worthy of the Marquis de Sade’s most inventive tortures.
Nishikānt Joshī was unable to do anything but scream so piercingly he was close to rupturing his vocal cord.
Nevertheless, Nishikānt Joshī saw his wife’s breasts bounce wildly on her chest as her body jerked uncontrollably.
Her lower body was exposed, though covered by her pantyhose. He could see her palms pressed tightly against her vulva.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund was still jutting obscenely, yet still immensely attractive from my zipper.
There hadn’t been enough time for the blood to leave it.
The vulgar display sickened Nishikānt Joshī but something else was wrong too.
He looked down.
To his horror, he saw the bulge in his work pants.
He realized his cock was hard, perhaps harder, longer, and thicker than it had ever been before.
A deep shame overcame the anger in his mind, blanking the fury in the space between two heartbeats.
He was mortified.
His own body was betraying him.
It wasn’t possible; he was not that kind of man.
His roars, born of renewed fury and deep humiliation, blended with the agonized shrieks of himself.
It was one thing that Urmi Upādhyāý, Nishikānt Joshī’s twenty eight years old extremely beautiful Upādhyāý Brāhmañ wife and I were prepared for Nishikānt Joshī’s every potential attack already, yet it was quite another thing that his Joshī Brāhmañ penis was appreciating what Urmi Upādhyāý was doing with me.
How the hell it happened?
Does it mean in this Infinite BrāhmKalp Nishikānt Joshī’s such intense humiliation was absolutely a normal event?
Only because Nishikānt Joshī and Urmi Upādhyāý were traditional Brāhmañs and Durgesh was a Bachhalyā?
Durgesh was already fucking now the entire beautiful Brāhmañ houseladies of Nishikānt Joshī’s household.
Nishikānt Joshī had as if fallen from sky.
“Supriyā Bhābhī, you mean… you mean…”
“Yes!” Instead of Supriyā Bhārgav, Nishikānt Joshī’s elder brother, Karuñākānt Joshī, said, “Your Supriyā Bhābhī is correct, Nishikānt. You keep forgetting, it’s Infinite BrāhmKalp now. We Brāhmañs are entrusted now to greater duties.”
“Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat?” Nishikānt Joshī asked sarcastically.
“Oh,” Karuñākānt Joshī said looking at his younger brother sympathetically, “Why?”
“Anything wrong in it?” Karuñākānt Joshī asked curtly.
“You were never satisfied with Supriyā Bhābhī.” Nishikānt Joshī said bitterly, “Her sophisticated behavior was never suitable to you. You were always interested, instead, in her ultramodern beautiful Musalmān lady friends.”*
“Who are you to discuss my married life activities and my sex activities? You are my younger brother, not my wife. Hinduism/Ved never allow any houseperson to interfere in the married life of another houseperson. It’s the only practical way to keep a joint family survive with ‘Modmānau Svastakau’, ‘Modmānau Své gr’hé’.”
“I think Imām Muħammad Ħasan is one of the greatest persons of nowadays.”
“Because he has surrendered the entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies of his household to Durgesh?” Nishikānt Joshī laughed ironically, “I never thought you have fallen to this level. I’m sorry to find you too salute the rising sun to this extent.”
“Chief Justice Vishwambhar Sharmā Supreme Court Multiverse is perhaps too a cuckold in your bright opinion, Mr. Nishikānt Joshī.” Karuñākānt Joshī also laughed equally ironically, rather more ironically.*
The environment surrounding a life form whether the life form is a male or a female always needs fresh base pairs for the survival of that life form.
To fulfill this need of the environment the life form starts to have sexual need.
The more intense the need of fresh base pairs of the environment the more intense the sexual need of the life form.
He never liked it.
They were traditional Brāhmañs.
Every traditional society has some traditions out of date it’s careless to change and update itself.
The Pseudo Musalmīn were the worst example of it.
They were too adamant to keep their outdated traditions that they refused to use their common sense even if it were against their enormously outdated traditions.
To kill the other societies for one’s own survival was a tradition among then uncivilized societies once.
The Pseudo Musalmīn were foolishly still adamant to practice it, because they never tried to understand it isn’t needed anymore.
The Democracy has not only its solution but the fair competition too to the survival of the fittest system of life.*
The Infinite BrāhmKalp had started to project its time cycle.
Despite the fact that the ever last Kaliyug itself had its time cycle unfinished for as long as 4, 27, 000 years.
I understood very well it was only a generous courtesy, not any invitation, or seduction, at all.
I was the son in law of the house.
Everyone was stunned.
“Well, I think we should talk first, Shuchi.”
“That’s a very good idea, Bahūrānī.” Pragyākānt Joshī greeted the suggestion very warm heartedly.
“I can’t help, Ammī,” Shuchi Joshī smiled naughtily, “if you were a cougar once.”
“Shuchi,” Pragyākānt Joshī said curtly, “you must be ashamed of yourself for the comment on your own Ammī.”
“It’s all right, PK.” Sheikħzādī Ůzrah Sheikħ smiled bravely, “Our children have different morals from me. You knew about my ultramodern morals and you married me with them. They didn’t.”
“Nevertheless, Ůzrah,” Pragyākānt Joshī said curtly, “Even if she doesn’t appreciate your morals, being a Brahmkanyā she must respect at least Imām Nārīm Sukr’té dadhāt and Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat. She isn’t a child anymore. She is twenty eight years old and a PhD now.”
“Sure,” Shuchi Joshī said, “I never criticized Ammī for her past. Nevertheless, I would never allow her past to affect my own life adversely.”*
No, he wasn’t a bad man.
That was the problem.
Their overhumanity itself was a greatest enemy of all of them.
They were good to the extent to be harmful to themselves.
“I know, Supriyā,”
Nevertheless, he couldn’t blame the traditional Brāhmañs even.
They were also normal men.
They too wanted to enjoy their married life.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Looking down and seeing Ramā Bhārgav’s musky Bhārgav Brāhmañ hole stuffed with my veined Bachhalyā rod sliding in and out was a wonderful vision.
“Durgesh, Anant Brahmkanyā Ramañ, Anant Brahmāñī Ramañ, Bachhalyā Piyā! Now I want you to fuck me harder and slower,” She instructed, “and when you’re all the way up in there, keep it in for a while.”
I fucked as I was requested.
Who was I to question?
Every slow, hard stroke was complete joy.
I knew that the rectum is full of nerve endings and several muscles and a major artery.
Done right, even the ass fucking can be great for all involved.
The muscles would account for the heavenly tightness, and I could also feel the artery pulsating.
“Your ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund feels so good in my Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass! Ahhhhh it’s soooooo big! It’s sooooo deep!”
But there was a difference too.
Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Åāyeshah Al Jalāl loved my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund more in her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass than she loved it in her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot even.
She asked me usually to grab her ever erect Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān boobs strongly and penetrate her from her ever glorious Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān behind into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot and into her Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass both alternatively.
None of us both was aware how much.
Time was immaterial.
It seemed to be infinity.
Then I heard the sounds.
These were the sounds of a woman near orgasm.
Her tight Bhārgav Brāhmañ asshole was gripping my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund even tighter pulsating and spasming with her orgasm.
This was what pushed me over:
The thought that Ramā Bhārgav, the Brahm Padminī, would have anal sex, coupled with the thought that she enjoyed my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund in her twenty nine years old young Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass so much that she could cum as a result.
My own toes started to curl and my feet and calves seized up.
My heart felt like it was going to explode.
The wonderful electricity ran from my heart down my body to my hips simultaneously with the same electricity running from the balls of my feet, up my calves through my thighs to my hips where it exploded through my own rectum, which seemed to clench up, through my testicles then finally out of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
My hips began to buck and hump involuntarily as if I was some sexual marionette controlled by an unseen puppet master pulling my strings.
She had stopped touching her clit and now the only movements were the deep breaths she was taking.
With her Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass cheeks still aimed skyward I watched her asshole’s aperture slowly shrink, like a closing magical portal to the dimension of ecstasy, as my creamy Bachhalyā jizz dripped and bubbled out of it.
I was fighting off a wave of post-orgasmic sleepiness, slowly regaining my breath.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, as if boasting about her vaginal and anal acumen.
“Oh, wow, still tingling.”
“You’re super stimulated.”
“Yeah… I guess… Whatever it is, it’s awesome.”
“And you?” I inquired, feeling the pressure of satisfying her.
“Uh, yeah sure, “I responded proudly, triumphantly.
and she slowly and carefully retreated from the bed and me, always keeping her hind end pointed at me.
I must have had a look of some question on my face, because she answered without being questioned:
“I feel like I have a gallon of your Bachhalyā cum up my Bhārgav Brāhmañ rectum! I’d like to rid myself of it. I’m just going to wash up a bit and then I’ll be right back,” gesturing with those sexy eyes and a head motion towards a door to the bath that was off of the master bedroom.
I watched her lovely form walk to the door and then disappear behind it.
I snatched her hand in mine before she could get far. Somewhat surprised, she turned halfway to face me I was still looking for some kind of connection or acceptance from this woman who’d stepped out of my dreams, and I was worried about what I took as a mixed review of my sexual prowess.
“If you just give me two minutes, I can fuck you again,” I offered. “Slower, if that’s how you want it.”
She moved my hand to her mouth and kissed it.
She looked at me with kind eyes and replied,
“‘Two?’ I’ll give you twenty!”
The way she did this made me see that she understood my ever youth and my sexual experience.
She saw my need for her approval, my desire to please her.
She knew that what she’d said would make me feel like I had satisfied her and that I was off the hook.
So, I’m good enough to earn twenty more minutes of her time, I thought to myself.
I’m good enough to wait twenty minutes to get fucked again.
She had two small wash cloths folded over her arm.
She knelt on the floor beside the bed and dipped one of them in the basin.
She began to gently clean my cock with soft, gentle swabs of the cloth.
The slow, sensual way she cleaned my dick and balls didn’t keep me from asking naughtily.
“What are you doing?”
Patently she answered in a soft sexy voice without ever taking her hands or eyes off my genitals:
She stared at my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund as if entranced by it, softly biting her own lower lip as was her habit.
The slow, thorough way she washed my shlong and ball bag with care was evidence that this was all part of the “process of pleasure” she’d spoken of.
That thought alone made me both understand and enjoy this sensual sponge bath.
The summer breeze wafted into the room like a silent visitor and caressed my now clean, wet sex organs it felt cool and refreshing.
Then she took the other cloth and softly patted me dry.
All of this was too much, and my blood started to flow south towards my Bachhalyā crotch.
She gazed at my exposed Bachhalyā manhood like a hungry person would behold a favorite meal, watching intently as my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund visibly grew before her beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes.
I spread the lower portion of her Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass crack and upper thigh with the back of my hand and touched the lips of her Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot with my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
This caused her to stand straight up.
“Slow down a second. I want to out dump this basin. Then I want to lie with you and let things happen naturally.” She walked away, taking the wash basin with her.
“So tell me, you just fuck your clients? Or am I special?” she said with a Cheshire cat grin.
“What’s with all the questions?”
“Sorry. It’s a game I like to play. I try to read you and then see how well I did.”
I didn’t say anything, only smiled.
“Durgesh, you’re a horny guy.”
“I guess so, myself too.”
She raised her sculpted eyebrows and smirked a cute little smirk.
“I watched you mentally undress every beautiful woman who walked in or out of here tonight, including Nādirah and me.”
“Well, isn’t that normal?”
“Yes, but you’re very obvious about it.”
“It shows the beautiful ladies that I’m interested in them. If they too are interested in me, we can enjoy sex mutually.”*
I couldn’t believe her.
“Isn’t it a favor?”
“Durgesh, she is my best friend,”
“She must see a psychiatrist,”
“She has seen,”
“What did the psychiatrist suggest to your best friend?”
“To see you, the utmost successful Sex Therapist.”
“It’s not a problem that needs a sex therapy.”
“The psychiatrist says it’s not only a psychological problem. It involves sex too. So, Nanditā must see you, the optimum Sex Therapist, instead of a female psychiatrist.”
“You want me to rape your friend, Nanditā Joshī?”
Nanditā Joshī looked at me boldly at first.
Yet, she bent her head down realizing her guilty request.
Yes, Nanditā Joshī was very beautiful.
She wasn’t a Just Eighteen Just Adult too.
Nanditā Joshī herself was twenty eight.
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā!” I exclaimed.
“My father, Tribhuvan Nārāyañ Joshī too has seen you having sex with my Ammī, Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Nåmat Al Islam. He has asked her to stop having sex with you if she really wants to marry my father.”
“I think you should marry, Nanditā Joshī.” I said gravely.
“The reason is quite obvious,” I smiled at Nanditā Joshī.
“There isn’t any Mr. Perfect anywhere. You’ve searched for him for ten long years. Still you couldn’t understand it?”
“What do you mean?” Nanditā Joshī said furiously, “They all claim you are the Mr. Perfect.”
“I’m Sixty Six now.”
“Well, age is no bar.”
“Your father, Tribhuvan Nārāyañ Joshī, is ready for it?”
“I don’t need his consent.”
“I’m no Mr. Perfect.”
“The entire womankind doesn’t agree with you.” Nanditā Joshī smiled, “Tell me only one thing. Why every beautiful woman is crazy to have sex with you?”
“Because Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, her Seven Movements, her Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, her Young Musalmān Lady Brigade etcetera have advertised my sexual prowess too much among womankind. They aren’t crazy for me actually, they are crazy for that imaginary Durgesh that doesn’t exist anywhere actually.”
Nanditā Joshī laughed,
“Despite you are fucking now almost every beautiful houselady, your mythic is still not broken?”
“Well, I try to be competent sexually for them.”
“I watch my Ammī, Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Nåmat Al Islam, when you fuck her. That isn’t any myth. That isn’t what I have heard only. I do watch it clandestinely since ten years. You just keep fucking her enormously. Her beautiful Musalmān lady friends have also joined you both in this period.”
“And you watched them too, having sex with me?”
“And you think they are crazy for me for my matchless sexual prowess?”
“You are unique in sex, yes!”
“While a large number of them are after my endless money.” I said curtly, “They deliberately lie about my sexual prowess because they get money for it from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Modern Democratic Årabia, the Seven Movements of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, her Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, her Young Musalmān Lady Brigade , etcetera.”
“Even if it is so, how can it help you to do what I myself am watching for ten long years? That can’t be untrue.”
“Try to understand, Durgesh,” Ramā Bhārgav tried to explain, “Nanditā Joshī can’t request anyone else to rape her. He would blackmail her to continue. Everyone is not as kind, understanding and sympathetic to us womankind as you are.”
“Wājidah has convinced Nanditā Joshī that she enjoyed a sexual adventure very much that she never enjoyed even with the same Amit Bhaŧŧāchārý. Nanditā Joshī wants to enjoy the thrill in it herself too. You are the only safe choice.”
I kept watching them.
“She wanted some degree of security but wasn’t sure how to go about it.” Ramā Bhārgav said, “Nanditā Joshī had been discussing possibilities with me and I had the brainwave that you would make the perfect rapist.”
“Thank you very much for that vote of confidence, Ramā Bhārgav.” I said sarcastically.
The girls now had a theoretical rapist and a voluntary victim, but weren’t sure how to get the show on the road.
I pushed a bit harder on why they had chosen me for a rapist.
It turned out they trusted me.
They knew I wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt Nanditā Joshī, excluding the little matter of rape, and that I wouldn’t expect to discontinue on a sexual relationship with her afterwards. It would just be a once off rape so that Nanditā Joshī could experience it.
“So what you really want is for Nanditā Joshī to have some consensual non-consensual sex,” I told them. “The way it works is that Nanditā Joshī gives her consent at the start and can’t withdraw that consent. It doesn’t matter if she changes her mind, as I would just ignore any refusal. You would, in the initial consent, agree to certain limits. For example, you would make the consent time-frame limited. You may say it applies to tomorrow and runs for forty eight hours, starting at midnight tonight. You may also like to limit the number of times you’re agreeing to have sex in that period. You don’t want to find yourself being pounced on every couple of hours and forced to have sex. And you may want to limit what I can do. Do you understand how it works?”
“I think so,” said Nanditā Joshī. “I’d say that you can have sex with me once tomorrow and then I forget about it, but at some stage tomorrow you ravish me.”
“Close, but not quite accurate. What it means is that sometime tomorrow I would take you, even if you changed your mind and decided you didn’t want sex with me after all. I would already have irrevocable permission, and if you do change your mind you’re going to be raped anyway. And I might want you to do things you don’t want to do. What would you do if I demanded that you give me a blowjob to start with?”
Both the girls blushed at that and looked at each other.
“Um, I’m not sure,” said Nanditā Joshī. “I might refuse to do that.”
“And I’m the rapist, remember. I might not let you refuse. How would you react if I spanked you until you agreed to do the blowjob?”
There was more blushing and exchanging of glances, but Nanditā Joshī actually looked a little intrigued.
“I’m not sure that I’d like a spanking,” she said.
What the hell. I was sitting down and she was standing right there in front of me wearing a short skirt.
“Let’s find out,” I said and took hold of her arm and pulled.
Nanditā Joshī suddenly found herself across my knee.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
I was wildly kissing and thrashing my face in her tits and groping her gorgeous, twenty eight years old, exquisite, bottom with both my hands kneading her gorgeous, twenty eight years old, exquisite, perfectly round, firm, young, Bhārgav Brāhmañ buttocks.
She was lying on top of me when we finally came to be face to face, and she planted another deep kiss on me, clutching both my wrists over my head while pinning me to the bed.
She whispered in my ear,
Then, with a pregnant pause, she whispered in my other ear,
“And it’s a process of pleasure.”
Her soft voice and breath in my ears sent shivers down my spine and gave me goose flesh.
Calmed by this, I lay motionless, glad to let her lead the way.
My ego wasn’t even slightly affected.
As she kissed my neck, she caressed my arms and chest softly, barely even touching.
First it was the tongue, then a kiss, and then another little bit of tongue.
That was her technique as she worked her way down.
“Fātimaaaaaaaaaaah Jalāaaaaaaaaaaal,” Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Åāyeshah Al Jalāl refused violently to accept her correction, “You aren’t Ramā Bhārgav actually. Your damnfool Bhārgav Brāhmañ father, Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav, calls you with that ridiculous name. You are Fātimah Jalāl. Understand? That’s how I named you.”
I felt her mouth and tongue on my ball bag.
That’s how they win ever immensely capable Bachhalyās.
I was blasted away by this!
It wasn’t that I’d never been sucked off before, but I was still under the impression that you had to work on a girl for a long time to get her to suck you.
A blow job on a first time was a foreign idea to me.
I’d always had to wait in relationships for a long time before a girl would bestow oral pleasure upon me.
My youth and my still ignorance were apparent to me even as it was happening.
Then, taking a long, slow, deep, fluid swallow, she made my manhood disappear once again.
Down, down all the way, down deep, and then holding me there for a long second.
Coming up in ultra-slow motion.
The way Ramā Bhārgav lifted my scrotum while she made long, slow passes up and down my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund did something to intensify the sensation.
Then, all at once, she started to ratchet up both the suction and speed, bobbing her beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ head more vigorously and sucking down my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund with more Bhārgav Brāhmañ energy.
“If you want to remain confined exclusively to Durgesh only, it’s all right, Fātimah Jalāl,”
As she sucked me, she began to caress and tickle the underside of my seed bag, slowly roaming to the little place where the scrotum ends.
This was a new sensation, and even my utmost experienced mind was getting in the way again.
Part of me was saying to myself internally,
“You can’t let her touch your hips! You’re a man!”
Both sides of my brain came to an agreement:
They agreed to stop her hand and the blowjob as well for fear that I might cum before I got to fuck her.
Covered in sweat, I lightly directed her head up until she took my tool out of her mouth.
She looked up with her beautiful eyes and quickly got the hint.
She arose and then lay beside me.
I turned to her and asked,
“Do you want this?” as I placed her hand on my stiff Bachhalyā member.
“Yes,” she said, never looking away from me.
“Then what shall we call it?” I teased in an attempt at sexy pillow talk.
“Your cock,” she answered in her soft alluring way.
“My pussy,” she replied.
Almost involuntarily I blurted out my first sexy talk.
Feeling relaxed and unashamed to talk sexy felt liberating and free.
In fact, I liked it and loved the fact the she was getting off hearing me say those words.
She talked right back at me.
“You, the man I fuck, are older than me when all I want is your hard, experienced Bachhalyā cock. Sure, you have money, and you can keep it! I have my own money too not to be dependent on you financially. My ever profound feminist Ammī, Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Åāyeshah Al Jalāl, hates immensely that any of her countless daughters be ever dependent on any male whether financially or otherwise.”
“So you don’t mind that I’m sixty six now,” It was a grave question, asked equally gravely.
“No, I want to have you because you’re sixty six,” she too looked at me gravely.
Her dominant personality was taking control of me again.
No woman however beautiful she were had succeeded ever in controlling me.
Was it because I was more Shaktimān, full of Cosmic energy, than anyone of them?
“I’m twenty nine,” Ramā Bhārgav said, shifting her beautiful young Bhārgav Brāhmañ eyes toward my ever handsome ever young utmost experienced Bachhalyā hard-on and gesturing at it with her chin, “and you don’t seem to mind. Why should your age bother me? It is Infinite BrāhmKalp now. Is it not?”
I spread her thick, shapely legs.
I slid my sixty six years old, utmost experienced legendary Bachhalyā Lund into her hot, wet Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot, wrapping my arms around her for leverage, then launching myself into her as hard as I could, finishing the move with a hump and snap of my pelvis.
I would repeat this over and over till the end – A power fuck as hard and fast as I could.
The Infinite BrāhmKalp needed it.
This was hard, hot and wild sex.
It was all I knew.
It seemed to be working.
Again, in my expertise in the art of fucking, I managed to find just what she wanted.
Too instead, were trying to improve themselves constantly.
The moans and screams were nice to hear.
“You like getting fucked, don’t you!” I grunted.
Our bodies, now dripping in sweat, made a slapping sound when my hips collided with hers.
Then another series of moans and screams of passion accompanied that wonderful slapping and slurping sound our bodies made.
Now, I was in control, and she had lost her composure. She was overwhelmed with pleasure, and could not form the words to speak, only breathless moans and coos.
Wanting a change of pace, I withdrew from her and nudged her to flip over.
“I’m going to take you from behind,” I told her in my sexiest Bachhalyā tone.
The view, from behind her, was amazing.
She was facing the headboard during our doggie style romp.
After a while, without explanation, she slid forward and my tool fell out of her honey pot.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired.
“Nothing … just a second,” the words barely escaped her mouth.
She was leaning forward and reaching for something.
By the headboard, there was a nightstand with a lamp.
I thought for a second her aim was to shut or dim the lights.
Instead, she was reaching for the little knob on the drawer of the nightstand.
What she retrieved out of the drawer almost made my heart stop.
A full size tube of K-Y jelly was now in her hand, and she was handing it back to me as the moment of surprise and joy struck me like a ton of bricks.
Was this what I thought it was?
I thought I had better check first but didn’t want to scare away the moment.
Thinking quickly, I managed to play dumb:
“No!” she said, again with authority in her sultry voice. Then she uttered the words I thought I’d never hear Ramā Bhārgav say to me: “I want you to fuck me up the ass!”
I gazed upon her welcoming, sweat-soaked Bhārgav Brāhmañ buttocks shining like two hot buttered globes. Ramā Bhārgav, the Brahm Padminī, peered back at me over her shoulder, still on hands and knees while I was visually taking in the beauty of her round firm Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass and its lovely crevice, following the crevice down to the wrinkled pucker of her Bhārgav Brāhmañ asshole and her battered Bhārgav Brāhmañ Choot lips, glistening and dripping with her sweet Bhārgav Brāhmañ honey.
I squeezed some K-Y on to the head of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and slowly spread it down its length.
Rubbing her waist and lower back was a sensual experience for me, too.
This allowed me a chance keeping the mood sexy and erotic.
I then got the K-Y jelly ready.
The mystery and darkness of it , the naughty taboo of it, made me hot and want to get down to business.
I squeezed out a liberal glob of it and placed it on her Bhārgav Brāhmañ bung hole, plastering her rectal pucker, caressing and spreading it in circular strokes, slowly putting more and more pressure on her asshole until the tip of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund was in it just past the first knuckle.
With slow, steady pressure, I worked my lubed ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund in her utmost beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass as far as it would go.
“OHH, Ohh that’s it right there.” Ramā Bhārgav, the Brahm Padminī, instructed. “Keep your ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund there …… feel my Bhārgav Brāhmañ anal muscles relax and open slowly,” Ramā Bhārgav added, now fully enjoying the insertion. “Now your push your ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund more, let the half of it go inside,” she moaned.
I noticed that she never enjoyed anally the withdrawing of my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund more than the forward thrusts.
Satisfied that Ramā Bhārgav‘s nether region was lubed and loosened adequately, I readied myself with more lube and was ready to mount Ramā Bhārgav, the Brahm Padminī, stealing another peek at her Bhārgav Brāhmañ sphincter, now visibly more open than before.
I had a little trouble getting in her backdoor properly, despite my utmost experience.
Ramā Bhārgav reached back, got hold of my erect ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund and guided me up in to her ever beautiful Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass, a procedure that always made me horny when I saw it happen.
I penetrated Ramā Bhārgav deeper and deeper until I was balls deep, and the pink Bhārgav Brāhmañ ring of her sphincter expanded fully accommodating my entire ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
It was so tight and hot.
It felt nice.
“Is that good?” I asked. “Does my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund feel good up your young twenty nine years old Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass?” I smiled proudly.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
He was adamant.
His father and grandfather both were Brahmarshis in HVSI.
Kaikasī Chaturvedī was smart enough to understand her eldest son’s mood perfectly.
She masterminded her entire planning keeping his every potential step carefully in consideration.*
When Muħammad got engaged, it was a bit of a relief for me. Muħammad had been miserable for years after Muħammad’s wife had deserted him for me, three weeks before his Sixty Sixth birthday.
Now he seemed to be back to a vague semblance of his former self.
I was glad.
My friend, Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah, had been through a lot.
It was more troublesome for me, because his wife had deserted Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah for me.
“I’m very sorry, Muħammad,” I said sincerely, “I never thought she was interested in me sexually.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah laughed.
“Infinite BrāhmKalp has come. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan says there were only two couples in BrāhmKalp, Brāhmañ Muslimāt and Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs. I think my wife was afraid of herself that Niranjan could not win her from me. She preferred you on Niranjan.”
“Niranjan Sharmā.” Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah said, “You know. He is Waħīdah’s Kħālāzād cousin.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah sighed.
“Niranjan Sharmā is close enough to Bhārgav
I had, of course, met Muħammad’s fiancée a few times when she’d stayed at our house, but after a while, Muħammad asked me if I’d be all right if Zakiyah moved in with us.
There was concern on Muħammad’s face, but it was unnecessary.
I was a quietly confident ever young man, who was simply happy for Muħammad to have found someone.
But when Muħammad came to pick him up from HVSI, I did not expect to find what I did.
When I climbed up into the back of the four-by-four, there was a dazzlingly attractive slim Musalmān redhead sitting inside, smiling at me. She was about twenty eight years old, dressed in a disturbingly low-cut turquoise top and green miniskirt.
Her legs were covered in nylons.
“Hi Durgesh,” said Muħammad.
“Durgesh,” Zakiyah smiled at me, “this is my daughter, Al Jalal Al Fātimah.”
“Hi,” Al Jalal Al Fātimah had an amazing smile.
She gently shook my hand and I couldn’t help but smile seductively.
I was completely amused to female company – especially such beautiful Musalmān female company.
Musalmān females were my specialty.
Even the BrāhmKalp could not take beautiful Musalmān houseladies away from me.
Yet, I was an exception.
Waħīdah preferred me on Niranjan Sharmā.
Waħīdah loved Durgesh.
Niranjan Sharmā was surprised.
“I don’t think so, Niranjan Sharmā.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s normal.” Niranjan Sharmā interrupted Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav, “In BrāhmKalp every Brāhmañ girl is a Brāhmañ’s sister according to Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā. She is not marriageable with a Brāhmañ. The Brāhmañs are required to marry Muslimāt and Muslimāt only to devote themselves to religious severities for their entire life.”
“I wanted to remind you it.”
His tone was somewhat curt to Niranjan Sharmā.
Niranjan Sharmā looked at him helplessly.
“Nevertheless, the Ārsh Sadan of HVSI is supporting Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, not Durgesh.”
The phone rang and she reached over to answer it.
“I was just…” she paused and looked at the TV, “…working on something.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes, I forgot a file I kinda need for work. Can you go on my computer and email it to me. It’s -”
“Now, now, I’m not going to remember. Just gimmie a second and I’ll go to your room and pick up the phone there, ok?”
Sītā Bhārgav made her way to the second floor of the big house she shared with me and her father Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav.
Sītā Bhārgav turned on my computer and picked up the phone in my room.
I was giving her instructions but we were having trouble communicating.
“And you searched for the filename? You’re sure you spelt it correctly…”
“Hmmm…” I muttered. “I guess I don’t absolutely have to have it…um…oh, Damn it! Of course!”
“Oh…oh geez, sorry Sītā dear.”
“Sorry about it. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
I laughed too.
“Three in one?”
“All in one, you Anant Brahmkanyā Ramañ, Anant Brahmāñī Ramañ.”
“Yeah, it’s just that I totally forgot something. Here’s what you need to do…” I explained to my Bhārgav Brāhmañ beloved of thirty years how to unlock the hidden and encrypted files on my computer using a password.
She sent off the email.
I confirmed I received it.
She hung up the phone and let me get back to work.
She hesitated for a moment.
What was there to go to except boring TV or a stack of books she didn’t really want to read, or a bed where sleep lately was elusive?
Didn’t she see something interesting a moment ago?
She opened up the list of files again.
Sure enough, there was the previously-hidden ‘Work Stuff’ folder they struggled so long to find.
And beside it some other uninteresting hidden folders were now revealed, like ‘HVSI Reports’ and ‘Bank Files’.
‘Pr0n Flicks’ and ‘Pics of Slutz’ and ‘XXX Stories’.
‘No,’ she thought, ‘they can’t be. Well…well, maybe he’s just got one or two things on here…I’m sure there’s a lot of peer pressure to know a bit about that sort of thing…’
She opened up ‘Pr0n Flicks’.
The list of files was so long it scrolled down past the bottom of the screen; titles like ‘Anal Trainer’ and ‘Ass Worship’ and ‘Buttman’s Big Butt Backdoor Babes’.
She double-clicked on a file and the starting credits began to play, a rapid-fire sequence of tits and ass and cocksucking and fucking and pussy eating and assfucking and double-penetration and cum splashing everywhere and and and…
She clicked it closed.
She went to the ‘Pics of Slutz’ folder.
As with the other folder, along with the main list of files there were subdirectories.
The one right at the top was named ‘AAAAA HOT DAMN IT – THE BEST – WHACKOFF SLIDESHOW’.
Here she found explicit, hardcore digital images.
Her Bachhalyā lover, Durgesh, had pictures of beautiful Musalmān houseladies, Christian houseladies, Jew houseladies and Brāhmañ houseladies even, in leather, in rubber, in lace, in chains, and of course in nothing at all.
“I would have never of suspected,” she said to herself, “I would have never have known.” Then she gave a little smirk. “No wonder he likes computers so much.”
Among the folders I made were ‘Anal Fuckfests’, ‘Mind Control’ and ‘Ashvinātam is Best’.
She knew about computers herself.
Who doesn’t in this immensely advanced Infinite BrāhmKalp?
Of course it was a long username.
It wasn’t possible even.
Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā was the paramount constitution here.
It was legally a tremendously punishable crime and morally an immensely despised great sin.
“Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās.” Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav said furiously, “Bhārgavīs deserve Durgesh himself, no other Bachhalyā even.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav had argued,
“There were no Bachhalyās then anywhere when Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu had gone through immense religious severities to get infinite extremely beautiful daughters. Durgesh was the only husband available to them. Hence it’s a wrong argument that Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās. He himself prepared Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, ‘Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān’, constituting Brahmkanyās to marry with the Bachhalyās. There isn’t any exception for Bhārgavīs in Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān, that Bhārgavīs have exclusive rights on the rest of the Brahmkanyās to be Brahm Jagdambās everyone.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav was defeated tremendously.
Nevertheless, she was jealous of beautiful Musalmān houseladies now immensely.
Bhārgavīs were no exception.
She’d gone through much of the rest of my room, and found more things to pique her interest.
In the corners of my closet and in the backs of drawers she’d found recordable CD’s with suggestive labels, porn tapes and DVD’s, and stacks of magazines.
As she listened to me move around in another part of the house, Dr. Sītā Bhārgav was in her bedroom behind a closed door, kneeling over on her bed and flipping through a magazine, ‘Ass-Fuckers Vol.5 No.2’, which she was sure I wouldn’t miss from my large stack.
One of her hands was between her legs rubbing her pussy, and occasionally her fingers would reach farther, to rub the sensitive crinkle of her asshole, which would make her whole body shudder.
She was always very conservative, wearing perfect business attire; usually pantsuits that always left as little visible as possible of her neck, arms, and legs.
Her hair was always tied up in a bun or back in a tight ponytail, and her shoes were always sensible.
Not that this was foremost in my mind when I saw her, but it was the way she had always dressed since I had remembered, even back before her and her husband had split up.
It was as though Dr. Sītā Bhārgav were another species from the females I saw at HVSI, on TV, or in the pornography I consumed, the ones so willing to flaunt themselves and their sexuality just to get attention.
I grunted, and out of the corner of my eye saw her hauling some bags up to her room.
I didn’t glance over for a while, but when I did I was shocked and couldn’t break my stare.
I always thought Sītā Bhārgav had a classical face; fine lines and delicate features, a little reminiscent of the Mona Lisa, or of Greek and Roman sculptures I’d seen. She’d always worn big, practical glasses, her new pairs just like her old ones, but now for the first time I saw her wearing a sleek pair with tortoise-shell rims, that reminded me of cat’s eyes.
Her hair was sandy-brown, and at the top of her head it fell straight, but then began to curl at the level of her eyes.
She wore it untied now, and it fell around her shoulders.
Her excellent exquisite thirty years old Bhārgav Brāhmañ body, with exceptions, was slim; especially her crane-like neck, her delicate wrists, and her ankles where the contours of bone showed clearly.
But nature had also designed her body so that her breasts were large and full, and were supported by strong shoulders, and her hips and ass were big and full as well, supported by thick muscular smooth bhbr thighs.
Every daughter of Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav was a specimen of exquisite excellent Bhārgav Brāhmañ beauty.
Now, she wore a flimsy wool cardigan, rose pink, with a knit loose enough to clearly show the bra underneath, and a plunging open neck that showed off much of her shoulders and the cleavage of her upper chest.
A cream-colored skirt stopped just above her knees, but had a slit up the side where I could see the top of a smoky brown stocking.
Her feet rested in shoes with a medium heel.
“Wow,” I said as I walked into her room, and then paused, searching for any other words. “Um…are we having company over or something?”
“Oh geez, I feel kinda out of it then.” I looked down to my white socks, jeans, and rock-band T-shirt. “Do you want me to change?”
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav turned away to continue her work, and I felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund involuntarily pulse and twitch against the fly of my jeans.
Dinner proceeded somewhat normally, though my eyes would often wander to Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s chest, trying to make out the details of her bra, and picture how her chest would look without the cardigan draped over it.
I’d snap my head away when I became conscious of my thoughts, but then my eyes would also sometimes drift to look down through the glass table in the kitchen, looking down at Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s legs and the way she held one sleek leg against the other, and something inside of me flamed up when Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s stockinged legs would rub together as she subtly shifted position.
I was looking out the window at the backyard when hands reached under my arms and wrapped themselves around my chest.
“Yow! Hey Sītā, you scared me!”
“I just wanted to say thanks for being kind to me.” She gave me a long hard squeeze. “I’m so lucky to have such a good husband.”
She placed a kiss on the back of my neck.
We were both quiet.
Each one burned on my neck like a gunshot.
Palm flat on my chest, one of her hands began to work its way down over my stomach.
My heart hammered as I realized her hand, if it continued, would discover my pulsing ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
I slammed my hips against the counter, crouching down a little so the bulge of my crotch was hidden from view.
She gave a disappointed sigh.
“So,” she said softly, into my ear, “what’re you doing afterwards?”
“Um…I gotta.. go to work, Sītā,” I smilrd, and glanced at the clock.
Long after she had gone, my body missed her warmth pressing against my back.
When I got home late in the evening and turned on my computer monitor, there was a full-screen picture I was sure I had not left there.
A naked young woman, nasty lustful passion on her face, had my large ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund buried deep in her Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass.
The woman whose picture was there was Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s younger, twenty eight years old sister, Ramā Bhārgav.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan must have heard me.
“It’s Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb on line there,” she said.
I perked up immediately.
“Okay. Thanks.” I stabbed the button for line three. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Is it a good time?” Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb said. “I tried calling your cell phone, but you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I was on another call. An important one.” I frowned at the memory, but then took a deep breath and forced a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I need help, Durgesh,” she said frankly, and I sat forward.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,” I bellowed, ignoring the intercom.
“You don’t have to shout,” she smiled when she appeared in the door. “I’m right here.”
“Book me on the next flight to Blacksburg, Virginia,” I said. “And have a rental car waiting at the airport. Also, call U-Haul, or Ryder, or whoever, and rent a truck for a one-way trip.”
“Are you on a white knight errand?” she asked, smiling wryly.
“My little girl needs help.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan leaned against the doorframe. “What happened?”
“Her car died and she doesn’t have a way to get home from Office. The dealership told her it would be two weeks before they’d have the parts. Damned Eurotrash imports!”
She rolled her eyes.
It was one of his frequent rants.
“Anyway,” I continued, “it’s a good time for me to go—”
“To escape, you mean,” she smiled teasing me.
“—and I’m…” I turned impish myself. “Am I that obvious?”
She smiled fondly and shook her head.
“Yeah, I guess I’m taking an impromptu vacation. But I won’t really be out of contact. I’ll have my laptop and my cell phone. Pramod can handle Raytheon, and you can handle everything here.”
“So I’m going to rescue my little girl.”
“She isn’t your little girl.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “She is already twenty eight and her Ammī, Al Rashīdah Al Faisal, is forty eight already. Give Rashīdah auntie some time for herself now, please. She left her husband for you when Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb was actually a little girl. You’re enjoying Rashīdah auntie’s dazzling Musalmān beauty for more than twenty years now. Still you bulldoze her so much that she was complaining.”
“Nonsense,” I smiled winking at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, “Al Rashīdah Al Faisal is still ravenous when I bulldoze her on the bed. Sālī, you want me to bulldoze only Jet Musalmān Beauties. Below forty only.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me.
“What’s wrong in that? We need your permanently stanch, ever implausible, sixty-five years old, ultimate accomplished, unique, utmost prominent, Uncut Hindu Lund more into our more ravenous, more needy Musalmān Cunts than those above forty. They have enjoyed their share already too much.”
I smiled cunningly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly herself.
She didn’t respond to it, deliberately.
“I’ll make all the arrangements,” she added. “Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”
I considered for a moment, but then shook my head.
I didn’t want to inconvenience her.
Besides, I needed her running things in the office.
“I’ll take a limo,” I said.
“I’ll have the driver meet you at the house.”
With a nod and a smile, I turned back to my computer.
I had a dozen e-mails to send before I left.
I’d also have to tell Al Rashīdah Al Faisal, but she wouldn’t care.
She and Al Kulsoom Al Faisal had a pageant in San Diego.
I vaguely recalled that it was part of the Miss California USA competition, but I didn’t give it a second thought.
Virginia was hot.
Hot and sticky.
I had already worked up a sweat just walking to my rental car.
Five minutes later, with the air conditioner on full blast, I was headed toward Blacksburg and the Virginia Tech campus.
I called Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb once I was sure of my bearings.
She gave me directions to her dorm, but I remembered the place from when I’d brought her to her Office.
She met me in the lobby and my eyes lit up when I saw her.
Unlike Al Rashīdah Al Faisal and Al Kulsoom Al Faisal—who were salon blondes—Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb was dark-haired.
And while Al Rashīdah Al Faisal and Al Kulsoom Al Faisal were busty—courtesy of very expensive boob jobs—Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb was petite and natural.
She was nothing like her mother or sister, and I liked that just fine.
She hugged me tight.
“Thanks for coming. I could’ve driven home by myself, but…”
“Nonsense,” I said. “That’s what I’m for. They say I can’t see any Musalmān damsel in distress ever.”
She laughed, looped her arm through mine and leaned her head on my shoulder.
We picked up the rental truck and returned to the dorm, where they loaded Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb’s things.
I couldn’t imagine how she’d fit so much stuff in her tiny dorm room.
It filled nearly half of the small truck.
After she checked out of the dorm, we had dinner and spent the night in a hotel.
Her car was still with the dealer, but I arranged for us to send it cross-country when the repairs were complete.
The service manager had balked at my “request,” but the dealership’s general manager understood the unspoken threat in my voice.
The next morning, Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb and I were on the road by seven o’clock, with sausage biscuits and hot coffee.
I cringed at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s imagined reproach, but I savored the buttery biscuit and willed her to silence.
“What’re you smirking at?” Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb asked.
I controlled heating my cheeks.
“Yeah. Just now. You were smirking.”
“I shouldn’t be eating this,” I admitted.
“Because of your cholesterol?”
In the blink of an eye, she snatched the biscuit and began rolling down her window.
“Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb, no!”
She tossed it out, wrapper and all.
“Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb, that was my breakfast!”
“We’ll stop for an early lunch,” she said, unperturbed.
I glared at her.
“You know Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s going to ask me how you ate,” she said. “And I won’t lie to her.”
“You could’ve lied this once,” I muttered, half serious, half joking.
“No, I couldn’t’ve. If you won’t take care of yourself, the women in your life will just have to do it for you.”
I wondered whether Al Ůzrah Al Ħabīb had really gone through Parkāyā Pravésh.
Or was it her Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Ħabīb himself who had gone through Parkāyā Pravésh?*
Kħadījah Muħammad, my outqueen, my confidential secretary, my everything, smiled at me.
“Mr. BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā, an executive type is anxiously and impatiently waiting in the outer office.”
“BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā ?” I asked.
Kħadījah Muħammad was only two years younger than me.
Yet she never looked more than thirty four.
“He wants to consult me?”
“Nonsense,” Kħadījah Muħammad retorted, “Nobody is as capable as you are. You have almost infinite Shaktimān, almost infinite experiences, almost omnipotent you are. The Bachhalyās are your sons from Brahm Jagdambās and their descendants only. There’s almost infinite difference in your Shaktimān and capabilities, etcetera.”
“Did he tell you something about what he wants me to consult about?”
“No,” Kħadījah Muħammad kept smiling, “Sorry. That’s a mystery.”
“What’s the mystery?”
“All he has told me is that he is willing to pay any fee reasonable to have you a buffet dinner tonight.”
“Kħadījah , you should have told Mr. BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā that I’m never a paid entertainer. We are busy people. It’s Infinite BrāhmKalp now. We have a busy schedule today already. I see clients only by appointment.”
“Kħadījah Muħammad, I…”
“As if he himself doesn’t have,”
“Mr. BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā has only countless bodies.”
“What?” I was startled.
“He hopes you owe him to help in keeping his present wife, Anjali Chaturvedī to him now.”
I was dumbfounded.*
Kħadījah Muħammad looked at me dubiously.
“I don’t think that BrahmRaxak Bachhalyā wants you as a social lion. He said he would like to have you get a feminine partner of your own choosing, and that he would like to have you observe a certain person and give him your impression of that person.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Yet Kaliyug has its projection still now for 4, 27, 000 years. Don’t forget it. It’s essential.”
“How the hell can I? It’s disturbing us most frequently everywhere.”
Kħadījah Muħammad flashed me a seductive grateful smile, returned to the outer office and a moment later was back with a man somewhere in his late twenties.
He had steady black eyes that flashed out from under his smart eyebrows.
It was an integral characteristic of the Bachhalyās that they were always young, handsome and powerful.
I was their father and the Brahm Jagdambās were their mothers.
Bachhalyās were always number one administrators consequently undisputedly.
The traditional Brāhmañs were the third.
The Muslims were the fourth.
Infinite BrāhmKalp lacked the other societies basically.
I smiled slightly.
“I thought so.”
“A student of character would so classify you.”
“I see. You mean you are a student of character?”
“Any trial lawyer, any politician, likes to think that he is. If he’s at all successful he has to be. Won’t you be seated?”
“Thank you, Your Excellency,”
“Sir,” he said politely, “that is one of the reasons I came to you despite my past experiences of you, are that you would again throw me to the wolves if there comes any beautiful lady that deserves protection more than I do.”
“I see. What’s the reason?”
“That’s right. I suffered from a severe heart attack and couldn’t keep my life then.”
I eyed him sympathetically.
“My family rejected me to keep me as her Sun. She needed a better Sun, you.”
“I was a damnfool then, Your Excellency,”
“Call me ‘Durgesh’. I prefer to be called thus more. If you don’t have any adverse prejudice against it, I mean.” I smiled.
“Even if the husband doesn’t care to fulfill his duties towards her?”
“Well, a family needs sacrifice if we want to keep it.”
“Sacrifice from a wife always?”
“And since Arundhatī Joshī didn’t divorce you, she ‘cheated’ you instead, you let a heart attack dominate you. What a manly step! Arundhatī Joshī was the only woman for you in the entire Multiverse? Why couldn’t you yourself divorce Arundhatī Joshī , if you felt she cheated you? Vinod Sharmā, a woman appreciates a strong man, not a man as weak as you were when you were Vinod Sharmā.”
“I accepted that I learned my lesson in the hard way, Sir. I thought you were my friend and…”
“Well, you said I should let her suck my penis, to have anal sex with her.”
“And you couldn’t do it?”
“I understand, now.”
“It’s your reincarnation, Punarjanm?”
“Sure. Who else can know more about the Bachhalyās than the original Bachhalyā that caused Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī to establish an endless Bachhalyā Empire destroying the traditional Brāhmañ Empire then forever?”
“I hate every tradition if it isn’t scientific anymore, progressive and ‘Janébhyah’.”
“There are some problems when you belong to a Bachhalyā family.”
“That’s right. But I’m telling something else.”
“I am listening to your observation.”
“I understand what you want to say.” I smiled, “You have come here from a traditional Brāhmañ family. It isn’t easy for you to plan something clandestine for the utmost brilliant Vishishŧ Brahms of your family. You want my help? Okay. Tell me what your actual problem is now.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Årab Mahā Bhārat: :
Ādi Parv 1/22: Saůūdī Årabia:
Sheikħ Aħmad himself was startled when he found he wasn’t any longer interested in sexual intercourse with his extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Kuwaiti Wahābī Musalmān wife, Sheikħzādī Kħālidah Umm Moosā.
He had heard that his friends were licking their extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives’ beautiful Musalmān Cunts and Musalmān ass even after Durgesh fucked them.
He could never believe it.
However, it was startling to him that he himself started doing the same.
Once his wife, Sheikħzādī Kħālidah Umm Moosā, refused to oblige him, he didn’t have another option except to seduce his twenty-five years old secretary, Attāhirah Assaiyad.
Even Attāhirah Assaiyad couldn’t believe when he asked her to seduce Durgesh, fuck him and let him eat her after that.
“While we wait for Durgesh’s cock to get hard again, which shouldn’t take very long at all. I’m going to make you cum again, Attāhirah Assaiyad. Lie on the bed.”
Attāhirah Assaiyad did and Sheikħ Aħmad pulled her extremely beautiful, young, firm, perfect, round, heavy, plump, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass to the edge, getting on his knees between her legs.
Sheikħ Aħmad pushed her legs open and rested them on his shoulders.
Then Sheikħ Aħmad pushed her open.
Attāhirah Assaiyad felt her inner most being exposed to air.
Sheikħ Aħmad felt him blowing gently on her and then his tongue.
Allah, Oh God, his tongue! Wet and warm ran from her pulsating Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān clit down her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān slit, dipping into her tight little hole all the way down and circling her extremely beautiful, young, firm, perfect, round, heavy, plump, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān asshole and then tracing back up.
Attāhirah Assaiyad’s body tensed and relaxed all at once.
Sheikħ Aħmad began suckling her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān clit just as he had her nipples and the sensation was almost too much.
Sheikħ Aħmad, her employer, slid his finger inside her.
It was so much longer and bigger than hers was.
Sheikħ Aħmad felt Attāhirah Assaiyad’s body clamp onto as Sheikħ Aħmad began flickering his tongue on her sex.’
“Allah, Oh God!” Attāhirah Assaiyad sat up and wrapped her legs around his head pulling his face deeper into her.
Sheikħ Aħmad began pumping his fingers in and out and suckling her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān clit.
Attāhirah Assaiyad grabbed handfuls of his hair.
Sheikħ Aħmad felt the explosion as Sheikħ Aħmad pushed Attāhirah Assaiyad’s back down onto the bed.
Attāhirah Assaiyad was already filled with my Hindu cum and her own ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān cum optimum.
Yet, she still came hard.
All her muscles were clenching and releasing.
Attāhirah Assaiyad could hear her voice and her gasps without being able to control the noises she made.
As Attāhirah Assaiyad slid from the apex of pleasure, once more, Sheikħ Aħmad, her employer, gently licked her clean, slurping every bit of my Hindu cum and Attāhirah Assaiyad’s ardent Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān cum entirely.
Sheikħ Aħmad left nothing there.
Attāhirah Assaiyad’s Musalmān Cunt was as cleaned now as if she had been dooshed now perfectly.*
Attāhirah Assaiyad smiled at me,
“Get them on the phone, Tāhirah. I still can’t understand how a robot driven hover car can have an accident, however trivial it may be. There must be something extraordinary behind it.”
“Won’t the police can take care of it themselves? Is it necessary for the Mayor of Ved Nagar himself to take care of it?”
“There are some reasons, Attāhirah Assaiyad.” I said gravely. Imām Muħammad Ħasan and Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr both are in Trantor now. The police may not understand its importance. I don’t want to take any risk. I have to take care of Al Zia Al Wahāb too.”
Attāhirah Assaiyad suddenly watched me cunningly.
“Is Al Zia Al Wahāb really a cabaret dancer only, Mr. Mayor?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have already said it various times previously. I never told you that I kept watching her myself constantly. Yet, I never found anything doubtful about her.”
“She is more cunning, I think, than we anticipate her to be.” Attāhirah Assaiyad retorted.
“Well,” I said, “I haven’t stopped watching her still now.”
“I see.” Attāhirah Assaiyad sighed, “That’s all we can do in this matter, I think.”
I picked up my mobile,
“Hello, this is Durgesh. I left a memo there yesterday about being called in connection with a robot driven hover car accident. I have some property that was taken from a car that was crowded off the road. There was a Maulānā with a broken arm. You were going to get his address and call personally me back.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl on the other side said, “I have your memo in my memory bank.”
“You, a lady robot?”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t call you back because there hasn’t been any report of any accident whatsoever.”
“I see. No report made by anyone?”
“That’s strange. The robot driven hover car accident took place two or three kilometers south of Ved Nagar sector 786.”
“There’s a car overturned by the side of the road down there. However, that isn’t a hover car. That’s a normal ground car. We investigated and found out the car belonged to Shékħzādī Imāmzādī Al Ħumayrah Al Qāzī . The Ummil Åālmīn’s staff say the car was stolen a couple of days ago.”
“Did the staff report it to the police at the time?”
“I’ve personally checked that. There isn’t any record of it. Ummil Åālmīn Shékħzādī Imāmzādī Al Ħumayrah Al Qāzī doesn’t seem particularly interested in it. She left it all on her staff. There will be a repair bill on the car and the cost of towing it to a garage. Ummil Åālmīn Shékħzādī Imāmzādī Al Ħumayrah Al Qāzī doesn’t seem to think the car is worth that much. After all, she is the second multi zillionaire after your very self in the entire multiverse.”
I didn’t say anything, only kept listening to the lady robot police officer.
“It is pretty hard for the police to get anything out of an Ummil Åālmīn or her staff whenever they want to be evasive. They just go around in circles with the police in the center. The police can’t get any nearer to what they are trying to find out.”
I smiled bitterly.
‘As nar nahīn janméu jag māhīn,
Prabhutā pāi jāhi mad nahīn.’
‘There isn’t any man born in the multiverse that gets the power, yet s/he isn’t arrogant.’
— Shrī Rāmcharit Mānas.
Nevertheless, what the hell could I do?
My live in relationship partners had their own freedom of behavior.
Sometimes some of them exercised even more powers than even I did myself.
I resented it.
Nevertheless, I could only advise them which they were completely capable to reject outright if they didn’t agree with me.*
The girl on the other side asked,
“Sir, were you a witness to the accident?”
“I saw it,” I said. “A big limousine sideswiped the car and sent it off the road out of control. An extremely beautiful young woman was driving it. I couldn’t get her as much as I can identify her properly. Yet, I have an impression that she was Shékħzādī Assalāt Ibrāhīm. Shékħzādī Assalāt Ibrāhīm is my live in relationship partner now. I have investigated her personally. She denies it vehemently and claims that it’s too a part of the frame up to discredit her elder cousin, Shékħ Al Zabīr, from his throne.”*
Shékħzādī Assalāt Ibrāhīm was sucking my Penis passionately, teasing me impishly.
“Sālī,” I said acidly somewhat, “you are sucking me now for almost half an hour.”
“So what!” Shékħzādī Assalāt Ibrāhīm smiled cunningly, “I can suck you still more. Remember I am not sixty-six. You are Sixty Six.”
“I smiled humiliating her.
“If I penetrate you all your youth would vanish.”
“Your Uncut Hindu Penis is ever more ravenous than even us ever-ravenous-for-you beautiful young Musalmān houseladies. I can’t understand how your communal Hindu lust for us Panjvaqtah Namāzī beautiful ardent Musalmān houseladies is never satisfied despite you are fucking us for almost infinite years.”
“You know it better yourself, Assalāt Ibrāhīm. You loved Shékħ Al Zabīr. Yet your Sheikħ Ammī, Shékħzādī Kħālidah Umm Mūsā, explained to you that it would be wiser if you seduce me. Why? Shékħzādī Al Hudā Al Aħmad Al Jabīr herself had gone to Ved Nagar to bring me here to protect Shékħ Al Zabīr.”
“What do you want to say?” Shékħzādī Assalāt Ibrāhīm was suddenly all-alert.
“Shékħzādī Al Sābirah Al Wahāb is more dangerous in the eyes of Sheikħ Ammī, Shékħzādī Kħālidah Umm Mūsā than in the eyes of Shékħzādī Al Hudā Al Aħmad Al Jabīr herself. Shékħzādī Al Hudā Al Aħmad Al Jabīr is cunning yet she is still young.”
“What?” Shékħzādī Assalāt Ibrāhīm put both of her beautiful nude legs on my shoulders taking me between them.
I pushed gently.
Yet her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān vaginal passage was so wet and so slippery that my entire Uncut Hindu Cock vanished into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy without any resistance at all.
She winked at me.
“Sālī,” I smiled triumphantly, keeping myself deepest inside Shékħzādī Assalāt Ibrāhīm, “who the hell wants freedom? I want eternal imprisonment there.”
“When I saw you in the court, I never imagined you are so sexiest.”
“Did you ever have sex with Shékħ Al Zabīr?”
I suddenly asked.
“Whom do you yourself like more? Shékħ Al Zabīr or me?”*
1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
That was what Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr is actually good at.
Al Kuwait Creations were almost similar to the Gāndhār of Mahābhārat period, if there was such a period.
He still didn’t know whether there were any Mahābhārat war, or not.
The Westerners never accepted there was.
They always claimed it was only a mythological tale, nothing else.
Yet, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr wasn’t so sure now.
If Durgesh’s Time Cycle Theory were incorrect, how the hell was it possible for him to go in the Trétā era ever?
He met his real father Brahm Nārāyañ Mukherjī there.
Brahm Nārāyañ Mukherjī was exactly his identical.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr found he has so many real and half Brāhmañ sisters in Trétā.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan once more proved herself correct.
“If you lick your wife, Imāmzādī Sheikħzādī Al Sābirah Al Wahāb, her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt
I mean, after Durgesh fucks her, you may get rid of your entire shortcomings gradually, eventually, ultimately.”
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr smiled cunningly.
“Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated, you want to cuckold me too?”
“Do I need to, Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated, smiled sarcastically.
Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr watched the utmost cunning young woman he had ever encountered with, in his entire life.
He could never decide who was using whom.
Sometimes he thought Durgesh was using Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated, successfully, without letting her even realize what he was doing with her.
Yet, sometimes Sheikħ Al Ůmer Al Aħmad Al Zabīr himself doubted his own theory.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was getting more from Durgesh than Durgesh was getting from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the Kħātoon-e-Jannat Hazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tåālā ånahā, reincarnated.
How then Durgesh was using her?*
Mahārānī Rājmātā Kuntī Chaturvédī was neither Mahārānī nor Rājmātā then.
She was Rājkumārī Kuntī Chaturvédī only.
What a tragedy!
She had to leave her son, Karñ Kauntéý Chaturvédī, only because he was an offspring from her premarital affair.
She had numerous Musalmān lady friends that had their premarital affairs with Durgesh mostly, or at least with other capable Hindus.
They were even bold enough to revolt against their society.
Ayesha Ahmad, Dr. Ali Sina’s co-author, was a born Musalmān lady.
Yet, she bravely wrote against Islam.
Here, the traditional Paurāñik Brāhmañ of Chaturvédī Creations were obstinate not to let any Brāhmañ young lady have any premarital affair.
She was expected to be a virgin obstinately until she wasn’t married.
Rājkumārī Kuntī Chaturvédī loved Durgesh, a Bachhalyā.
Despite a large number of restrictions, she enjoyed premarital sex with Durgesh.
She deliberately conceived Durgesh’s child in her womb.
Gave birth to a handsome male child clandestinely with the help of ever revolting Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
She had been extolled far beyond her deserts and the incident was never mentioned.*
My eyes were grave watching her.