Durgesh Farħānah Al Åbbās
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī herself was behind it.
I was exasperated,
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed,
“Sālī.” I gritted my teeth.
“I can’t help it, Pitr’shrī. Durgesh is always against my best decisions.”
I watched her gravely.
“Haven’t you learned any lessons even now, Satī?”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī retorted,
“What’s there to learn?”
“I requested Ārsh Sadan, not compelled ever.”
“Didn’t you fight the issue until the entire Ārsh Sadan didn’t agree with you?”
“That’s my fundamental political right. Can you deny it, my dear Bachhalyā husband?”
He was smiling sophisticatedly.
“Don’t enjoy her idiosyncrasies, Param Brahmarshi.”
“I object on the word ‘idiosyncrasies’.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled cunningly.
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī retorted,
“Benefits of Shāshvat Satyug? What are they, Bachhalyā Piyā?”
“Call me ‘Durgesh’.” I admonished her curtly.
“I love to respect my husband.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled, “It’s not good manners to call one’s husband by his name.”
“Well, that’s what I think.”
“Sālī, come to the point.”
“It’s bad manners to abuse your wife when her father is present.”
“You are again enjoying her naughty activities, Bhagvan.”
“She calls me ‘Bachhalyā Piyā’ on your support.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong in calling you ‘Bachhalyā Piyā’.” Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled impishly.
I smiled too.
Sālī was hiding behind the mask of marital relationship between us.
Her real father was Prajāpatipati Dax Brahmāputr.
But Param Brahmarshi was Gr’harshi of our entire family including Tārxý, Shésh, Balrām Bhrātr’shrī, Bharat, Laxmañ, Shatrughn, Prakāsh, Shlésh and Ved Prakāsh.***
“‘Bachhalyā’ was my birth Gotr in the ever last Kaliyug. It causes me to remember my ‘Pashu Janm’, my animal birth. Isn’t it denying my Dvij identity?”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī laughed triumphantly.
“No.” I said, “I hate this ‘Pashu Janm Sambodhan’, this ‘Animal Birth Address’, for me.”
Satī Dāxāyañī Brahmāpautrī smiled,
“That’s another matter.”
“How? They are Musalmān. Therefore? They make Ashvinātam Sharīr Yantrs with you. Therefore?”
“I never blamed you so.”***
When Muħammad flew into Miami, all he seemed to see from the air was water.
It was everywhere.
It was the encroaching sea at the coast, and inland ribbons that sliced the landscape to pieces.
Much of the downtown Miami was protected, of course, but outlying districts, even just blocks away, were flooded.
Muħammad was mildly shocked.
But the place still worked.
He was unable to understand why so many Musalmīn of India still loved to vote Congress.
It had to resign.
Being a time traveler himself, Muħammad had never seen so many foolish Musalmīn anywhere.
“I haven’t objection that Zaynab Bājī has chosen a Hindu his Live in Relationship Partner, Abbū.” His youngest daughter Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD had complained, “Durgesh is not only a Hindu. He is a black magician as well.”
“What nonsense are you talking, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad? Muħammad was furious.
“Abbū, he is fucking infinite Musalmān Beauties.”
“Nonsense. You are a PhD. Shame to you.”
“Abbū, Zaynab Bājī claims she has seen him so.”
“Fucking infinite Musalmān Beauties?”
“And you believed it?”
“You must be crazy, Saiyadah Fātimah Muħammad PhD.”
“Is Kåbah Sharīf itself infinite?”
Muħammad had silenced his daughter.
But he knew it was possible.
Yes, his eldest daughter, Zaynab Muħammad Åbdullah, was right when she argued,
“Abbū, if Måraj is possible, why what I saw is impossible?”*
Two years ago, I bought Farħānah Al Åbbās her first car; a sporty little red convertible.
I swam deep into my thoughts.
I could bring up the day I handed the keys to my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās, as if it was on a Rolodex.
Two years ago in the mild stages of spring, Farħānah Al Åbbās blew out the candles on her eighteenth birthday cake.
The very breath that Farħānah Al Åbbās breathed was my breath.
That very breath she exhaled over eighteen candles was the day I felt myself.
I would be sixty-three on my upcoming birthday, by no means ancient.
But my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās’s declaration of youthful independence became my silent resolution of long experiences.
And I was having no trouble admitting it.
Why should I?
I was still everyoung.
Wasn’t I, still fucking extraordinary young Musalmān Beauties, even teenagers too?
My age was increasing but so was my bubbling Hindu youth as well.
None knew I was a Parahuman however.
They thought I was a normal human being.
Well, how could they differentiate?
We try to explain the things we can’t deny.
But, naturally, we use our own knowledge and experiences for it.
They took my Parahumanism as an exception to normal humanism.
The exceptions were not unusual.
It helped me in keeping my real identity to myself and to the persons who understood it.
I trusted them.
No use to tell my real identity to the persons I didn’t trust ab initio.
It couldn’t solve any problem.
On the contrary, it could increase my problems instead.
Naturally, I was not stupid enough to do so.
It seemed like only a few, short years ago, I was driving my first car.
The others were surprised that it was not any great occasion to me.
We felt happier when we accomplished something in our Shaktimān or Bhogchakr.
To the most of non Hindus it was extraordinary.
They criticized Hindus,
Saiyadah Āmnah smiled,
“When we say ‘razī Allāhu tålā ånhā’, do they understand? When we say ‘nauzbillah’ do they understand?”
“Every religion has its own terminology based on its own particular philosophy of life and vision.”
Muħammad couldn’t say anything.
Saiyadah Āmnah, his Ammījān, smiled,
“Hindus believe that to every action of a person, there is either Shaktipāt or Shaktixaý. The amount of energy in any person at any moment is his/her Shaktimān.”
“I see, and Bhogchakr?” Muħammad smiled ironically.
One more religious nonsense.
But Hindus’ own religious nonsense is also not less entertaining.
“The Hindus believe that the entire infinite creations are made by Allah for our human beings consumption.
Every person thus, according to Hindus, has his/her own Consumption Cycle. They call it Bhogchakr in their religious language, Sanskr’t.
“We all have our own religious idiosyncrasies.”
Åbdullah Hāshmī smiled,
“Not because their so called Eīshān Vigyān, Ammī.” Muħammad retorted.
Saiyadah Āmnah chuckled,
“How do you know, my dear son?”***
My mind dove deeper into my past memories as I took my exit to the office.
I had given up my spot in the two-car garage to my Live in Relationship Partner Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam’s daughter, Farħānah Al Åbbās’ car.
It seemed ridiculous to have a convertible car sitting outside in the elements and my fifteen year old Chevy Silverado had seen better days.
Farħānah Al Åbbās had definitely benefited from her Ammī’s beauty.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam and I had gotten off to a rocky Live in Relationship, in our first few years.
From the normal “settling in” phase to various arguments, it took us many years to straighten out our problems with each other.
But after the newness wore off, our understanding for each other grew.
I had tried so hard to keep the peace with my Live in Relationship Partner; something easier said than done.
I knew when I met her that she would be hard to handle.
Musalmān women as beautiful as her don’t come around often, and I was surprised when she agreed to a first date with me.
I knew what I had.
But I also knew it would take me controlling my temper to keep her.
I tried as hard as I could to make my Live in Relationship with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam work.
I had to.
Being a Hindu it was my duty.
Not only it, being a good human being even, I had to adjust with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
I wasn’t a plaster saint, by any means.
Everyone knew it.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was also included in this everyone.
During our first few years of Live in Relationship, I had openly met several young Musalmān women on the internet.
There was something in the over possessive attitude of Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam that I felt somewhat imprisoned and even tortured by my new Live in Relationship.
The only distraction from that was in the safety of the anonymous interest of another Musalmān Beauty.
A Musalmān Beauty I had no ties or resentment toward.
I even met a few of the young Musalmān women in person.
Some would be only for brief talks, leading to more, but most were simply for my sexual unions.
I always let my temptations take me all the way, bravely.
I was a hyper sexual, a Parahuman.
I needed those Musalmān Beauties not only for my sexual satisfaction, but for my own survival as well.
Ordinary human beings couldn’t understand it very well.
But how could I help it?
By sacrificing my own life, my own existence?
I was not such a sucker, neither had I wanted to be, nor prepared to be, ever.
I never agreed I was wrong.
Why should have I?
I always used to have intercourse with other Musalmān Beauties other than my Live in Relationship Partner, Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
It’s not that I wasn’t sexually attracted to my new Live in Relationship Partner, back then.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, she was gorgeous.
Tall and sleek, she had the body of a competent Musalmān seductress.
Her breasts perked high in her tight, little tops.
I always loved the cuteness of a big-chested Musalmān Beauty.
They just always gave me a warm, sweet feeling; making me smile in satisfaction.
Her legs were something to be appreciated; long and tone, always silky smooth and tan.
She had one of those big gorgeous Musalmān asses that I would imagine a sexy heiress to the families fortune having.
Tight, round, almost giving off a conceited vibe, like it was actually saying, “I’m better for you”.
She had that nice, deep line running from the small of her back up between her shoulders and slender arms and fingers.
Her hands and feet were dainty, something I always loved about her.
Her hair was long and dark, absolute perfection and her eyes matched it in color and luster.
With full, pouty lips and a small, up-turned nose, she was constantly viewed by other people as stuck-up, vein or a bitch.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam had everything and I knew it.
But after our Live in Relationship, her looks became horribly skewed as I realized her communal mood swings, controlling attitude and just a general idea that I would wait on her, hand and foot, took its toll on my attraction to her.
I found myself not very anxious to have sex with her and I knew, this happening this early in a Live in Relationship was not a good thing.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was only two years younger than me.
I found younger Musalmān women more open to my intentions.
Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam was the only exception.
I had never dated a Musalmān Beauty that made me wait for sex.
She was a virgin and intended on staying that way until Live in Relationship.
It was that easy, usually.
Most of the Musalmān Beauties I met only once, and oddly enough, they were perfectly fine with that.
One girl in particular, I met more than once.
At twenty-one years old, slightly thick, with 38DD’s that were spilling over her bra, she was definitely something I never had usually.
Petite Musalmān girls had always been my thing.
The first night I met her, we talked and laughed. something I hadn’t done in a while with Al Jamāl Annisā Al Islam.
I constantly admired her excellent Musalmān breasts.
Almost like an expensive piece of chocolate I slowly peeled her tight shirt upward, my excitement building with every inch of her enormous Musalmān breasts coming into view.
My intentions were hers as well; we had discussed it beforehand.
Her bra forced the top of her Musalmān breasts out over the edge.
She smiled at my overwhelming interest as she unhooked her bra, squeezing her massive Musalmān tits together, with her arms, as she let the straps fall from her shoulders.
Slowly she pulled the cups away and relaxed her arms back to our resting position.
The result was her gorgeous round globes were swaying and knocking together like a desk novelty.
I smiled teasingly at the sight.
I took my time with something as if, a well-endowed rack.
Light touches and strong squeezes excited me more then I knew possible.
Pressing them together, letting them sway, light squeezes turned to lustful squeezings.
I could feel her chest heaving, her breathing becoming louder, stronger.
Then a thought quickly came to me.
“Would you mind if I tit-fucked you? I want to do it to you more than before,” I asked, looking up at her from between her cupped breasts.
“Sure,” Åāýéshah Muħammad panted. “It looks like you’re having a lot of fun. Who am I to deny you, plus, this feels really good!”
I rose and straddled her waist, watched her palm the sides of her breasts, pressing us tightly against each other.
The sight alone made me drip precum.
My unquestionable Hindu arousal for this curiosity, the feeling of firm, huge Musalmān breasts sucking tightly on my naked Uncut Hindu Dick, the unbelievably Musalmān softness of them pressing against my Hindu pelvis overwhelmed me.
I tit fucked Åāýéshah Muħammad for almost half an hour.
She held it into her mouth, briefly gave it an accepting look, then looked me directly in the eyes and guided it into her mouth.
“Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties! Has anyone ever told you your Hindu cum is very sweetest?” Åāýéshah Muħammad teased me, swirling her tongue in her mouth; enjoying the remnants of her fresh oral sex with me.
“Actually, I’ve heard that a few times,” I smirked, still teasing her.
As she stepped out of my truck, she waved ‘Allah Ħāfiz’, ‘goodbye’ and we went our separate ways. Durgesh felt the bliss rising deep within me.
I talked to her on the phone, as well as on the internet after that, and met her on three other encounters.
One meeting I pulled up to her car, Åāýéshah Muħammad got out and climbed into my truck.
Åāýéshah Muħammad swallowed, primed my leftover Hindu cum to the tip of my Uncut Hindu Cock, licked it off, zipped my pants back up, looked at me, smiled and said ‘Allah Ħāfiz’ once more.
That meeting was my favorite; to-the-point, raw, it was cut-and-dry and required no build-up.
Another time Åāýéshah Muħammad knelt down in a parking lot and sucked my excited Uncut Hindu Cock in full view of anyone deciding to park in the lot.
When Åāýéshah Muħammad could sense I was close to cumming, Åāýéshah Muħammad e held out her palm and gently massaged my Uncut Hindu Cock to orgasm.
She cupped her hand in front of the tip and let my warm, sweet Hindu juice puddle into it.
Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī then rose up and began licking small quantities of it from her hand until all traces were gone.
My satisfied Uncut Hindu Cock began throbbing with each fast-paced heartbeat, as I watched her lap my most primal of Hindu fluids up like a hungry kitten.
Muħammad Abdullah turned his car onto the gravel road and drove up the hill toward the clubhouse.
The brick building was about 2 miles up the road, in a little forest of pine trees.
It could not be seen from the road.
And unless you knew it was there, you wouldn’t even know it existed.
A generous patron had donated the somewhat isolated land and building to the local Explorer troop some years ago.
Even though it had been built in the 1940’s, the Explorers had taken good care of it, and it was very nice.
The grounds were well-kept with a nicely-trimmed lawn and a picnic area.
Inside, there was a meeting room, a kitchen, a bunk room, and a full gym with weight machines, a large mat room for boxing and wrestling, and a large shower area.
The Explorers were a group of teen-aged Hindu boys who were interested in going into law enforcement or fire-fighting careers.
They worked with local agencies to learn about the job and would meet at the clubhouse on Tuesday nights to discuss what they had learned and plan events and fundraisers.
Other than that, the Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club house was mainly a place for the guys to hang out and work on projects or work out in the weight room.
The leaders would come in most evenings and open the place from 6 pm to 8 pm if any of the guys wanted to work out.
But the weight room could get pretty crowded at times.
And the guys would sometimes have to wait awhile for their turn.
That was why Muħammad Abdullah had driven up there that night.
At the meeting the night before, I, one of his fellow leaders, had mentioned to him that I was going to stay late the following night and had told Muħammad Abdullah that he could come and work out if he wished.
Muħammad Abdullah’s school schedule was fairly light the following day, and he thought it would be great to be able to get in a workout without having to wait around for machines to open up.
As he neared the clubhouse, he saw that my car was parked in back, but no one else was there.
The outside light was on, as were the lights inside the gym area.
Muħammad Abdullah parked his car and walked over to the building.
It had been a warm spring day, but a cool breeze had begun to blow through the pines.
It was very quiet up there.
The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.
Muħammad Abdullah breathed in the pine-scented air and enjoyed the moment.
It felt like he was way out in the country.
He had dressed for his workout in a t-shirt and some loose nylon running shorts.
Underneath his shorts, he was wearing a jockstrap and could feel the breeze blow up his shorts and across his butt.
He liked wearing a jock because of the way it snugly held his cut Musalmān nūnī and balls, while allowing him to feel otherwise naked underneath.
He walked into the gym and saw me sitting on the floor, stretching.
I was one of the older leaders.
I was 62 years old, 6′ 5″ tall, and weighed about 250 pounds, all solid muscle.
I constantly worked out and was very strong.
The sexiest men in entire infinite Creations and infinite time dimension too.
Muħammad Åbdullah was suggested so many times to reconsider what his system of life should be for his future life.
Not even if his Musalmān friends were terrorists themselves.
How can he fuck the women he called Ammī once?
How can he fuck the women he called Bājī once?
How can he fuck the girls he called sisters once?
How can he fuck the women he called Bhābhījān once?
Muħammad Åbdullah would prefer even to die instead.
To hell with such Sukr’ts.
Might is always right.
That’s what Hindus actually believe in.
The Bachhalyās were always immorals.
The ever immoral Bachhalyās were the first who started incest.
Moreover, they argued it moral, religious and legal too.
Ultimately Lord Parashu Rām had killed the immoral Bachhalyās consecutively for twenty one times, in twenty one Brāhm Kalp Cycles.***
I reveled in her complete raw sexual cravings, her uninhibited urges to milk my wanting Uncut Hindu Cock of every single drop of my nature.
But what was so intense to me was I had no idea who this Musalmān Beauty was, and she knew nothing of me.
“Allah, God, that tastes so good,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī grunted.
I moaned, dazed from the delight.
Each encounter was something new and different.
A drastic change from the already staleness, sexually, I had already become accustomed to.
On our last encounter, I went to her house to see her.
She was like nothing I had ever met.
She stopped at nothing to amaze me.
She knew nothing would come of our meetings, but I felt, something inside her loved the attention.
I followed her upstairs to her bedroom, admiring the thigh high stockings and very short miniskirt that left nothing covered.
This, she knew, was one of my fetishes.
We had discussed some very, very sexy ideas and fantasies in our little chats.
She stripped away my pants along with my boxers.
“I love sitting on your Hindu lap Durgesh darling, while you fuck Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī.” she winked at me as she peeled her spaghetti-strapped top up over her head, her large melons dropping and swaying from the release.
Her nipples softly slipped across my skin and then pressed against my Hindu chest.
The slushing noises of all those juices being forced in-and-out, up-and-down, back-and-forth was enough to bring me over the edge.
“Hold on Durgesh darling, I’ve got to go get something,” Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī said as she rose up off me.
Cautioning my mind back in reality, I was cautious as I stared at her bare Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot release itself from me.
Strands upon strands of her natural lubrication clung to my Uncut Hindu Lund, refusing the separation.
Well, the refusal was inevitable ultimately.
It all had made its own infinite time cycle repeating itself again and again.
Musalmān Beauties had to fuck me consequently.
Even they couldn’t resist the temptation.
Their Musalmān Cunts demanded my Uncut Hindu Lund uncompromisingly.
I watched, bewildered, as clear droplets of desire splashed silently, from deep within her, against my lurching Uncut Hindu Cock.
I had rarely, seen a Musalmān Beauty so wet, even while I always fucked infinite of them actually.
Wasn’t it something special?
Certainly it was.
Her short skirt was lowering a little with every step.
Walking back into the room, Åāýéshah Muħammad Hāshmī again straddled my hard Uncut Hindu Cock.***
It all made sense now.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could feel me — feel a man nearby.
The voices and images that had bombarded her made sense now — and they had washed away her old reality.
All Jamīlah Bū Pāshā remembered was being sucked up by the blue light into the Posthuman warship, and the gas she and the other Musalmān Beauties had been subjected to….no, not gas exactly, the were tiny particles like…dust or…spores.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that now.
Finally, all of it made sense.
She had eons worth of memories; the biologically—encoded memories of a great race, an ancient race.
The body of knowledge that filled her brain overshadowed all ethical, political, or religious beliefs; her race—memory was all.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had awakened at long last from a prison of petty, weak, female morality and anxiety, and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew what Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had to do.
Again, and again.
It was not a means to an end, reproduction was the end.
It would be beautiful; she was beautiful.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been given a gift when the Posthumans sprayed her with their spores; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that she did not need to age, she need not fear rejection.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had a choice of any man… she was erupting with the power of limitless seduction — no matter a man’s station, commitment or preferences — Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could have me…Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could possess the best men…but… but…she didn’t want the best man…
No, she wanted…all Hindus!
All of them!
She would spread her legs, shake her extremely beautiful gorgeous glamorous excellent exquisite perfectly round firm Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass for any chance to copulate with a Hindu.
She laughed when Jamīlah Bū Pāshā realized that normal Musalmān Beauties would be selective for the most suitable Hindu.
What mattered was breeding!
When Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been human; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had wanted only to attract the right Hindu; now Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could attract any Hindu, and wanted them all!
They thought she was an Egyptian.
‘Pāshā’ was an Egyptian surname.
Well, only her Abbū was an Egyptian Årab Musalmān.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā closed her eyes, and felt a sweet sensation.
It was an aura that teased her senses like electric sugar.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could see glowing blue threads in the air,
Many of them with a common root — but with a few wild branches.
The glowing threads that waved and wandered in front of her seemed to radiate that energizing sweetness.
She grasped a tangential strand, and gained a flash of images — massive lovely Musalmān breasts, platinum blond hair, metal studs and piercings, a extremely lovely Musalmān feminine shape.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was dimly aware of her flesh flowing, bones popping, chest expanding.
And in a flash, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had become the very soul of desire!
The sweetness grew more intense, and was accompanied by a sense of invincible power.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was desirable now, a perfect match…but….for what?
For a Hindu…Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could practically smell his anti-Islamic Hindu lust.
It was not the nature of the Hindu himself, but the strength of his Hindu libido that drew her.
It made no difference what he looked like.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would spread herself for any Hindu even…Hindus from other planets?
Yes…yes…their Hindu libidos captivated her, made her wet, made her pulse flutter with longing.
There was a time when Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would have rejected a Hindu based on meaningless emotional impulses!
She scoffed at the human woman she used to be, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was…. yes, a Musalmān Beauty.
She embraced the term as normal, natural.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had reached the inevitable evolution of the female Musalmān organism — absolute promiscuity.
She looked forward to impregnation — Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā could give birth offspring quickly, easily, without pain or risk of injury — in her new, advanced body Jamīlah Bū Pāshā realized the process would be highly pleasurable!
And imagine, Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had been afraid when the Posthumans had first captured her!
“Hindus,” she breathed.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was one of them now.
They were her people, her species.
It was human Musalmān Beauties that were Posthuman now.
Her new sisterhood ruled this planet.
And they would steal every living Hindu away from their own Musalmān Beauties.
But that had already been done.
Only a tiny handful of Hindus in the most remote places on Earth could have possibly escaped the Great Harvest.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew that ships had even combed the Kalahari Desert and Amazon rainforests, to capture every possible Hindu to ejaculate into Musalmān Cunts for the Ashvinātam Empire.
But there was one left.
Durgesh must have somehow escaped.
He had a cunning, powerful mind, but his lust for fucking Musalmān Beauties nonstop was strong.
That was what drew her, the greater the Hindu’s lust, the more her own Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān sexual craving was fed — and Jamīlah Bū Pāshā knew Jamīlah Bū Pāshā had taken the shape of a deep—rooted desire.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was drawn to me like a magnet, from my Hindu sperm; Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would derive both pleasure and sustenance, from her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
Durgesh would gain a potent addiction.
She loped forward to follow the strands of desire across the stripped soil where blue moss from the Hindus Homeworld had been planted.
Jamīlah Bū Pāshā was not sure.
Hindus lived originally in Vyom, an immensely unapproachable Space with equally immensely unapproachable time dimension.
Their President, Durgesh, lived in still more immensely unapproachable Space, Param Vyom, the Absolute Space.
It was said that no man except Durgesh himself could stay male in Param Vyom.
He would immediately be transformed into an extremely beautiful woman, if he even enters there somehow.
What a security system.
There was a ship; it was a small shuttle made from rough, bluish—purple crystalline blocks.
Not Hindus Manufacture.
Her race memory told her that it was made by an ingenious, telepathic species smarter on average than humanity, but far less fertile.
Nonetheless, the Hindus of that race could not restrain themselves from the limitless sexual indulgence the Hindus promised — and had thus become one more planet of lesbian savages and stud—slaves.
Now, there were Hindus who had added that race’s genius and greater telepathy to the gene pool at large; making them all the more capable to conquer Trio Arabia Creations.
“Ashvinātam Intelligence is limited; Ashvinātam Lust is eternal.” Jamīlah Bū Pāshā droned, her race memory feeding her a popular Hindus maxim.
The mating instinct was a weakness shared by the smartest, strongest, toughest species — none could resist The Ashvinātam Empire.
And the leaders of this planet had been so eager to ejaculate their freedom and power into the accepting Musalmān Cunts of the First Wave agents.
This ship’s presence here was a mystery.
A mystery that Jamīlah Bū Pāshā would explore after she’d gotten a Musalmān crotch full of sweet, virile, human Hindu Semen.
A mystery that was fleeting, it seemed.
The bluish blocks began to fracture, crack and smoke.
In a few moments, it was clear that somehow, the ship was disintegrating from some reaction inside its own structure.
The blocks fragmented and faded into sandy debris, flowing downwards into a pile around the crash site.
Beneath the blocks oozed a substance that resembled molten metal that flowed in steely rivulets.
In less than a minute, evidence of the Posthuman craft had vanished, and what remained could easily resemble the melted wreckage of any human-manufactured aircraft.
And in the center, stood the Hindu.
I was wiry, of medium height for my species, not bulky, but with a hint of lean muscle.
Clean shaven, my black hair resembled a spiky crew-cut, and there was a fierce gleam of Uncut Hindu Cock—sure certainty in my smoldering eyes.
And my rod… my Hindumeat stood poised, half-erect as if ready at any moment to surge into steely rigidity.
My sausage—like Uncut Hindu Cock throbbed, seeming to beckon her forward.
Knots of desire twisted in her gut, and her Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt began to quiver with the raw instincts that burned in her Musalmān blood.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Durgesh Dr. Kħadījah bint Kħuwaylid
At the age of 49, Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh felt that he had reached a certain degree of success in both his professional and personal life.
He had worked diligently throughout his academic and business careers to be in the position he now was.
He had put the failures of his past love life far behind him, and he was now going on his 14th year with this corporation.
Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh had provided his beautiful wife of 14 years with a beautiful 5-bedroom home in the burbs and all the luxuries that his six-figure salary could afford.
$ 9, 99, 999 was a nice salary.
Only one more dollar had put him in seven-figure salary slot.
Yes, he was not the multi zillionaire Durgesh.
It was said even most of Durgesh’s women were zillionaires.
Durgesh’s own younger brothers were also said to be zillionaires.
But there was also a rumor that they were Posthumans.
He was worried about his extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies.
There were some medical expert friends of Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh.
“They are constantly having sex with a parahuman.”
“Stop it Dīdī.” Imām Muħammad Åbdullāh could not bear it any more.
He didn’t know Padminī Bhārgav personally.
Padminī Bhārgav was one of his Phūphī’s daughters.
He also had a relatively large nest egg saved from the first 12 and half years of his career following college. He had invested wisely.
For Muħammad, things were seemingly perfect.
His 38-year-old Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān extremely stunning wife, Dr. Kħadījah bint Kħuwaylid, was a strikingly-beautiful blonde of 5′ 6″ and 122 lbs. with an impressive 34DD-23-35 figure.
She looked 10 years younger than her age, and still turned many heads.
Twenty eight years old that meant.
The only thing missing in her life was a child, which Muħammad was unable to provide.
But, he was optimistic that this could still happen someday, and everything else was going well.
Things hadn’t always gone so smoothly for the tall, timid and noticeably “geeky” Muħammad.
Throughout high school, he was never successful with the girls, dating no more than once or twice.
He noticed that he was not alone who was unsuccessful with the girls.
Once he overheard his parents talking,
“Nonsense.” His Ammī admonished his Abbū, “I know you doubt that Muħammad is not your son.”
“I can’t blame you, Āmnah.”
Muħammad was startled.
His Abbū, Åbdullah Hāshmī, was not his real father?
Then who was?
His Abbū, Åbdullah Hāshmī, went on to say,
“After we Musalmīn, the Brāhmañs are not brilliant enough not to demand impractical morals from their women. That’s why the Brāhmañ Beauties crave for Bachhalyās. The Savarñās prefer more practical Shūdr, Dalit, Hindus.”
Muħammad’s Ammī, Saiyadah Āmnah, smiled triumphantly,
Muħammad’s Abbū, Åbdullah Hāshmī, was suddenly all alert,
“I didn’t say that.” Saiyadah Āmnah smiled sympathetically, “Sorry, I can’t give you that relief.”
“Muħammad’s real father is Shrīkānt Joshī, the Commissioner of Police?”
“I had to do it, Åbdullah Hāshmī. He had every proof that you are involved in terrorism.”
“That’s a rotten lie.” Åbdullah Hāshmī said furiously.
“Can you deny that Saůūdī Årab is not interested in spreading Islam in India?”
“Not through terrorism.”
“How do you know?”***
She was all praise for me too.
Yet there was nobody who ever even suspected my Poshumanity, or to be correct to the precision, my Parahumanity.
There were too many evidences that I was not a normal human being.
I was a multi zillionaire and so many persons suspected that I was actually the ever-richest man in the entire human history until now.
“Yes, please, what can I do for you?”
Padminī Bhārgav smiled.
She had studied Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan adroitly.
“I don’t think it would be good to any of us to talk here.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled.
They believed in Satītv and Pātivratý more than they believed in their religion or anything else.
“What are you doing here?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled patronizingly,
Padminī Bhārgav kept smiling,
“Bājī, do I look that stupid?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
She watched Padminī Bhārgav with almost infinite appreciation,
“No. You are one of the shrewdest Brāhmañ Beauties I always appreciated.”
“Thank you, Bājī. I am honored.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I need your help and patronizing, Bājī.”
“Here? In this homewhen?”
“That’s why I had to come here. You can understand, Bājī.”
“Is Ammī Nafīsah Salmān, Ummil Åālmīn, Kħadījah Al Kubrah?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed,
“Yes and no.”
“I couldn’t understand, Bājī.”
“Acknowledge your defeat?”
“Bājī, you are always too smart for me.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled, “I’m ashamed of myself for it.”
“Don’t be. We don’t have any conflicting interests. Do we?”
“Hell, never.” Padminī Bhārgav smiled confidently.
“Somewhat, yes, Bājī. Fully, no. Sorry.”
“One day you also would be a Parahuman.”
“I hope so, Bājī, thank you.”
Padminī Bhārgav smiled,
“How did you know?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed,
Padminī Bhārgav laughed too.
“You are right, Bājī. But why is it so?”
Volume 2: Kħātūn-e-Jannat
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Hamāré pađos men hee ek Musalmān parivaar rahta tha.
Rizwan Aslam, 40 saal ka ek dubla sa Musalmān aur unkī 36 saal kī bīwī, Āmnah Ħabīb.
Unke koī aulaad nahīn thī, par miyan bīwī apne aap men bahut kħush thé, aur donon hee bahut milansaar thé. Rizwan Aslam sarkaari naukree men thā, aur mahine men 20 din to voh rajdhani men hee rahta thā.
Ham jab unke pađos men aaye, to Mérī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, ka Āmnah Ħabīb se parichay huwa aur Āmnah Ħabīb hamare bété se bahut pyaar karne lag gayee, jo us vaqt kéval saal bhar kā rahā hogā.
Dhīré dhīré Mérī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, aur Āmnah Ħabīb pakkī sahélīyan ban gayeen.
Main use Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān kah ke bulaata tha.
Voh aksar hamāré ghar aatī rahtī thī, aur main unsé Mérī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, kī maujūdgī men bhī do-arthī mazāq kar liyā karta tha.
Voh kabhī bura nahīn maantee, aur hanstī rahtī thī.
Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān bilkul gori chittee aur bhare jism kī mast Musalmān åurat thīn.
Jaisā Musalmānon men, pardé ki vajah sé hota hai, ek dam gol chehra, qad kuchh lambā, aur javaan angon men poora ubhaar.
Main haméshā kalpna kiya karta tha ki Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān ko jam ke chodoon, aur Āmnah Ħabīb mérī bhī, mérī bīwī jaisee, dost ban jāyén.
Main un donon Musalmān ħasīnāon ko ek sāth chodoon.
Ākħir mujhé mauqā mil hee gayā. Kħabar aayee ki mujhé agle hee din Delhi jānā hai.
Main shaam ko ghar pahunchā.
Us vaqt ghar men Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān bhī maujood thīn.
Maine un donon ke saamne hee yah batā diyā, ki mujhé 3 – 4 dinon ke liye Delhi jānā hai, aur kal kī night bus se main Delhi jāūngā.
Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān thođī der men hee apne ghar chalee gayeen.
Aaj kī raat maine Mérī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD ko jam ke choda aur usne bhī mast hoke chudwaaya, kyonki aane vaale teen chaar din hamen alag rahna tha.
Doosre din main office se dopahar men hee aa gayā.
Ghar pahunchné par Mérī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, bolī,
“Tumhāré liye ek bahut hee bađī kħushkħabarī hai. Bolo, kya inåām doge?”
“Are, pahle yah to batāo, ki voh kħushkħabarī kya hai?”
“To suno dil thaam ke. Tumhāré sāth Āmnah Ħabīb bhī Delhi jānā chaahtee hai. Uska husband vahān bīmār hai aur voh use dekhne jānā chaahtee hai. Aur haan , tumhāré sāth hee vaapas bhī aayegee.” Saiyadā Fātimah PhD ne mujhé significantly ānkh mārī.
Samajh chukī thī voh ki rāsté mein kyā hoga.
Mera man to balliyon uchhalne lagā, par main apnī kħushī ko chhupātā huā bola,
“Ismen kħushkħabarī vālī kya baat hai? Thīk hai, tumhārī sahélī hai aur pađosee hai to use main vahān unke husband ke paas pahunchā doonga. Tum bhī kħush, tumhārī sahélī bhī kħush, aur uska pati bhī kħush, jo vahān baithā mutthī maar raha hoga. Par mujhé kya milega?”
“Ab itné sīdhé banker mat dikhāo. Aake mujhé mat bolna ki tumhen bhī vahān jaake mooth maarnee pađī. Bandobast karke tumhāré sāth bhej rahī hoon.” Mérī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, hanstī huyee bolī.
Mera abhī use kuchh karne ka mood ho hee raha thā, ki darvāzé kī ghantee bajee.
Mérī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, ne darvāzā khola to Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān thīn.
Voh andar aayeen aur mujhé dekhkar bolīn,
“Kyon? kaheen men galat time par to nahīn aa gayee?”
Hamārī bus raat ke thīk 9 baje chlee.
11 Bajne tak bus kī sārī battiyan bujha dee gayeen, aur bus pahāđī rāsté par hichkole khaatī Delhi kī taraf bađh rahī thī.
Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān bilkul méré baghal vālī seat par baithī huyee thīn.
Beech mein koī hand rest tak bhī nahīn thā.
Jab bus ko jhatka lagta to ham donon ke jism aapas men ragađ kha jaate.
Iska natījā yah huwa ki main uttejna se bhar gayā, aur mera Uncut Hindu Lund pant mein ékdam khađā ho gayā.
Phir Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān ko neend aane lagee aur kuchh der baad unka sar neend mein méré kandhe pe tik gayā.
Unkī bađī bađī Musalmān Choochiyan mérī kohnee se takra rahī thīn.
Maine bhī muskurākar mérī kohnee ka dabaav unkī Musalmān Choochiyon par bađhānā shuru kar diyā.
Lekin voh vaise hee bina hile Dule soyee rahīn.
isse mérī himmat aur bađh gaī.
Maine apne haath ek doosre se cross kar liye aur ek haath se unke Musalmān boob ko halke se pakađ liyā.
Voh vaise hee soyee rahīn.
Ab to mérī himmat aur bađh gayee aur maine unkī Musalmān Choochī par méré haath ka dabaav bađhānā shuru kar diyā.
Jab maine unkī koī ħarkat is par bhī nahīn dekhee, to main unkī Musalmān Choochī dabāne laga.
Bus mein andhera thā, aur keval bus ke chalne kī hee ghar ghar kī āvāz aa rahī thī.
Mera Uncut Hindu Lund pant phāđ ke bāhar aane ke liye machal raha tha.
Bađī mushkil se use kas ke daba kar qāboo men kiye huye tha.
Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān méré kandhe par apna sar rakhe chup chaap soyee huyee thīn.
Mérī himmat bađhee aur maine haath unké blouse mein sarka diyā.
Unkī bharee Musalmān Choochī ko kas ke pakađ liyā maine.
Phir use jaise hee kas ke dabāyā, Āmnah Ħabīb bol pađīn,
“Allah, itne zor se mat dabaaiye. bahut dukhta hai.”
Main to yah sunte hee khil utha.
Apnī is kħushī ko apne aap tak nahīn rakh saka main, aur maine apne Hindu Purush honth unke Musalmān honthon par rakh diye.
Unhonne bhī ek haath méré pant par, méré Uncut Hindu Lund par rakh diyā, aur use pant par se halke halke dabāne lageen.
Maine neeche jhuk ke unkī sāđī thođī ūnchee utha lee aur haath bhītar Daal diyā.
Mera haath baalon se takraaya aur main jhoom utha ki Bhābhījān bhī mazā lene kī taiyaaree karke hee aayee hain.
Jaise hee maine unki Musalmān choot mein angulī Daalnee chaahee, unhone sāđī par se méré haath ko rok diyā, aur bolīn,
“Aise nahīn, koi dekh lega.”
Tab unhone seat ke neeche rakhā apnā bag kholā, aur usmen se ek chādar nikaal kar, use lapet ker, ođh liyā.
Maine phir unkī Musalmān Choochī par haath rakh diyā, aur use blouse par se dabāne lagā.
Voh phir bolīn,
“Durgesh, Blouse ka hook khol kar thīk se malo, zyādah mazā aayega, tumhén bhī, aur mujhé bhī.”
“Sālī!” mainé muskurākar unko ānkh mārī, “Kħud bhī marī jā rahī hai.”
“Are, mérī jān! tum par kaun nahīn martī?” Bhābhījān ne bhī muskurākar poorī badmåshī sé mujhé ānkh mārī.
Maine unké blouse ke hook khol diye.
Andar bra bhī nahīn thī.
Musalmān Choochī phudak ker bāhar aa gayee.
Is beech unhone voh chādar méré ūpar bhī lapet dee.
Ab ham donon ek chādar men lipte huye the aur bhītar ham kya ħarkat kar rahe hain, bāhar se uska kuchh bhī pata nahīn chal raha tha.
Unhone méré pant kī chain khol dee aur underwear ko ek taraf kar ke méré Uncut Hindu Lund ko āzād kar liyā.
Phir voh jaise bahut neend men hon, aur sona chaahtee hon, vaise kuchh andaaz men paanv seat se bāhar kar so gayeen.
Lekin voh kuchh aise andaaz men soyeen ki unko méré Uncut Hindu Lund ko munh men lene men koī diqqat nahīn huyee.
Voh agle teen ghante tak mérā Uncut Hindu Lund choostee rahīn jab tak ki main unke munh men nahīn jhađā.
Méré Hindu kāmras ko voh poora ka poora ghatak gayeen.
Phir maine bhī unkī Musalmān choot men ungulī karke unkī aag thandi kī aur ham donon chaadar men lipte hee is taraħ so gaye ki mérā Uncut Hindu Lund unké munh mein hī banā rahā.
Voh bhī, neend mein bhī, pyār sé mérā Uncut Hindu Lund haulé haulé choostī rahīn.
Savéré, chaar baje, hamārī bus Delhi pahunch gayee.
Maine unsé kahā,
“Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān, kisi lodge me chalte hain. Thođā aaram karne ke baad apne husband ke paas chali jānā”.
Voh mérī baat, kahte hee, maan gayeen.
Maine ek achchhe hotel mein double bed kamra liyā.
Kamre mein pahunchte hee voh bath room mein bhaageen, aur jaise hee darvāzā band karne ko huyeen, main bhī darvāzé par pahunch gayā.
Unke sāth sāth hi bath room mein ghus gayā main.
Voh hađbađā ker bolīn,
” Kya hai, Durgesh? mujhé péshāb karna hai. Bāhar jao.”
“Sālī,” main kichkichākar bolā, “Ab méré sāmné péshāb karné mein sharm aa rahī hai? Aur rāt bhar mérā Uncut Hindu Lund apné is ħasīn Musalmān munh mein lékar choostī rahī, tab sharm nahīn aaī?”
Bus kī raat bhar kī yaatra se voh poorī mastāī huī thī.
Mastī mein hans dīn,
“Allah, tum bhī, jānū, pooré mahāchudakkađ Hindu ho.”
Phir poorī bésharmī sé, fauran, apnī sāđī, petticoat sahit, apnī kamar tak ūnchī kī, aur mérī taraf apnī phoolee goree Musalmān gānđ kar ke baith gayeen.
Bahut hee tezi ke sāth srrrrrrrrr srrrrrrrrrrrrr karke péshāb karné lageen Saiyadah Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān.
Main ek dam garam ho utha aur jaise hee ham donon kamre men aaye maine unkī sāđī utaar dee, phir blouse khola aur unka petticoat bhī khol diyā.
Bra aur panty to unhone pahle se hee nahīn pahan rakhee thī.
Aur méré sapnon kī raanee, Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān, ab méré saamne bilkul nangee thīn.
Maine jaise hee unkī Musalmān Choochī pakđī, voh bol pađīn,
“Pahle apné kapđé to utaar do.”
Main bhī fauran poora nanga ho gayā.
Maine Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān ko chit leta diyā aur main unke munh ke donon taraf ghutne mođkar, baithkar, unkī Musalmān choot par jhuk gayā.
Ab mera Uncut Hindu Lund unke dilkash ħasīn Musalmān munh ke saamne tha aur méré chehre ke thīk saamne unkī khulee Musalmān choot mujhé dåvat de rahī thī.
Unhone mera Uncut Hindu Lund apné ħasīn Musalmān munh men le liyā aur idhar main unkī maal puye see Musalmān choot choomné laga.
Ham donon hee kaam vaasna se poore vyaakul the.
Tabhī voh bolīn,
“Durgesh darling, Méré Hindu Piya! Pahle ise bhītar daal ke mujhé chodo. Bus se hee tumne mujhé paagal kar rakha hai.”
Main itna sunte hee unkī taangon ke beech aa gayā aur unkī Musalmān choot ke gulaabee chhed men apna 8″ ka Uncut Hindu Lund ek hee jhatke men poora pel diyā.
Tabhī voh bolīn,
“Itne zor se peloge to merī Musalmān choot phat jāyegī, zara pyaar se dhire dhire chodo. Main koi bhaag thođé hi rahi hoon.”
“Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān, main tumhe chodne ke sapne bahut dinon se dekh raha thā, lekin darta tha ki kahin tum nārāz na ho jao.”
“Nahīn, aisi baat nahīn hai. Main to khud tum se chudwāné ko bahut béchain rahti hoon. Tumhari bīwī, Saiyadā Fātimah PhD Bājī, ne batāya tha ki tum lagatar ghanton tak, balki shabo-roz, Musalmān choot mein apnā Uncut Hindu Lund daal kar pélté rahte ho. Tumhare ek baar jhađné tak har Musalmān ħasīnā chaar paanch baar jhađ jaatī hai. Mera Musalmān shauhar to chudāī ke måmlé mein ékdam békār hai. Mérī Musalmān choot me lauđā daala nahīn, ki jhađ gayā. Main to tađaptī rah jaatī hoon. Tumhari Saåūdī Årab Musalmān bīwī badi kħushqismat hai ke use tum jaisa Param chudakkađ Hindu pati mila. Aaj mérī Musalmān choot ki pyaas pūrī taraħ bujhā do.”
“Ghabrao nahīn, aaj to main tumhārī Musalmān choot ka wo haal banaūnga ki tum zindagi bhar mujhé yaad rakhogee.”
“Hāyé Allah… Durgesh darling, Baaten mat banāo. Ab zara zor zor se mujhé chodo. Hāye, pelo apna Uncut Hindu Lund poore zor se.”
Maine chudāī kī raftaar bađha dee.
Ab mera Uncut Hindu Lund ek piston kī taraħ unkī Musalmān choot se andar bāhar ho raha tha.
“Haan Aur Zor se. Aise hee dhakke maaro. Main aa rahiiiii hoonnnn. Haaye méré raja, aaj mérī Musalmān choot kī garmī utaar do. Main bahut dinon se pyasi hoon.”
Main jitne zor se use chodta, voh utnee hee tađap tađap ke aur maang rahī thī.
“Han aur zor se chodo. Merī Musalmān choot phāđ daalo. Chodo aur chodo, chodte raho, haaye pelo na, aur kas ke pelo apna Uncut Hindu Lund, Han poora Uncut Hindu Lund daal kar chodo. Haaye main gayeee. Oh ….. Oh…. “
Aur dhīré dhīré voh sust pađ gayeen.
Par main unkī ras se bharee Musalmān choot men vaise hee phachch phachch ker mérā Uncut Hindu Lund pel raha tha. ..
Unke ras se unkī Musalmān choot bahut chiknee ho chukī thī aur mera Uncut Hindu Lund baar baar slip ho raha tha.
Tab maine apna Uncut Hindu Lund unkī Musalmān gānđ ke chhed se tika diyā.
“Haaye Allah, Durgesh, mérī Musalmān gānđ mein mat pelo.” Voh ghabrākar bolīn, “Bahut taklīf hogī.”
“Are, kuchh nahīn hogā Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān, please, ek baar ji bhar ke mujhé apnī Musalmān gānđ bhī maar lene do ab, jaise chudvā liyā.Main ne bahut koshish kī, lekin Kħadījah Muħammad mujhé apnī Musalmān gānđ nahīn maarne deti.”
“Mujhé målūm hai.”
“Kya tum log aisi baaten karti ho?”
“Haan hum log aur bhi bahut kuchh kartī hain.”
“Achchha, pahle apnī yah ħasīn Musalmān gānđ maarne do phir baaten karna.”
“Ék shart par.” Voh sharārat sé hansīn.
“Hān, pahle vådā karo ki ab tum mujhé kabhi pyāsī nahīn rahné dogé. Zindagī bhar chodté rahoge ab mujhé.”
Maine Saiyadah Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān ko pyār sé choom liyā,
“Vådā mérī jān! Vådā.”
Mera Uncut Hindu Lund aur unkī Musalmān gānđ, donon, unkī Musalmān choot ke ras se chiknee thī.
Mujhé unkī Musalmān gānđ men mérā Uncut Hindu Lund pelne men zyādah pareshaanee nahīn huyee. Phir jaise maine unhén chodā thā, vaise hee unkī Musalmān gānđ bhī maaree aur lagbhag 15 minute baad main unkī Musalmān gānđ men jhađā.
“Tum ko kaise målūm ki main Kħadījah Muħammad kī Musalmān gānđ maarna chaahta hoon aur voh mujhé apnī Musalmān gānđ nahīn maarne deti?” maine muskurākar pūchhā.
“Ek din tum tumhārī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, Bājī ke sāth kahin bāhar gaye the.
“Mera shauhar bhi nahīn tha. Mujhé akele sone me Dar lag raha tha is liye us din main sone ke liye tumhāré ghar aa gayee.
Raat mein Kħadījah Muħammad ke haathon ka dabaav apnī Musalmān Choochī par pākar mérī neend khul gayee.
“Main ħairānī sé bolī, ‘Are ye kya kar rahi ho?’
‘Kuchh nahīn. Main soch rahi hoon ki Durgesh tumhe chodne ka khwaab kyon dekhta hai. Jab bhi wo mujhé chodta hai to aksar tumhari baaten karta rahata hai.’
‘To kya dekha?’ main dil hi dil mein kħūb kħush hokar sharārat sé bolī.
‘Abhi to sirf tumhārī Musalmān Choochī chhooī hai. Ab tumhārī Musalmān choot dekhoongee.’
“Aur unhone mera petticoat kholna shuru kar diyā. Sāđī to main pahle hi khol kar soyee thī, aur pantie bhi nahīn pahni thi. Phir unhone mera blouse aur bra bhi khol diyā. Ab Kħadījah Muħammad mérī Musalmān Choochiyon ko baaree baaree se choomné aur masalne lagi. Mérī ek Musalmān Choochī un ke munh men thī aur ek Musalmān Choochī ko apne ek haath se maslte ja rahi thīn. Ab dhire dhire unke haath méré pet aur peđoo ke rāste se phisalte huwe mérī Musalmān choot kī taraf bađh rahe the. Thođī hi der mein un ka haath mérī Musalmān choot ko masalne laga. Mérī Musalmān fuddee zor zor se khujlaane lagī.
“Main apnī Musalmān choot ko zor zor se unke haathon par rgađne lagi. Main ne apna ek haath unkī Musalmān Choochī par rakh kar unkī Musalmān Choochī ko masalna shuru kiya aur dūsre haath ko petikot ke oopar se hi unkī Musalmān choot par rakh kar dabāne lagee.
Unhone kaha, “Are kapđon ke ūpar se kya mazā aayega? masalna hai to kapđé khol kar masalo.”
“ Aur maine jaldi jaldi unka blouse, bra aur peticoat khol daala. Ab ham dono bilkul nange ek doosré kī Musalmān Choochiyon aur Musalmān choot se khel rahī thīn. Kħadījah Muħammad tumse chudvāye baghair nahīn rah saktīn, yah main kħūb achchhī taraħ samajh chukī thī. Wo apnī ungliyon se mérī fuddee khod rahi thīn, aur main apnī ungliyon se unkī Musalmān choot khod rahi thi.
“Thođī der baad wo mujhé chit sulakar mérī janghon ke beech baith gayeen aur jhuk kar mérī Musalmān choot ko apnī jeebh se chaatne lagīn.
“Mujhé bađā mazā aa raha tha. Aaj se pahle kisi ne mérī fuddee nahīn chaatī thī. Phir unhone mujhé apnī Musalmān choot chaatne ko kaha. Mujhé achchha to nahīn lagā, lekin unkī jeebh ne mérī Musalmān choot ko jo anand diyā tha uske badle main unkī Musalmān choot chaatne lagee. Donon kāfī der tak 69 position me ek doosré kī Musalmān choot chaatte rahe. Phir unhone do lambe baigan lākar ek méré haath me thamaatī huyee ek baigan ko mérī Musalmān choot mein pelne lageen. Baigan itna mota tha ki main mérī Musalmān choot me uske ghusne kī kalpna nahīn kar sakti thi. Lekin mérī fuddee unkī jeebh ke chaatne se itna uttejit ho gayee thi ke bađī aasaanee se wo mérī Musalmān choot mein chala gayā. Apne haath ke baigan ko main unkī Musalmān choot me ghuséđné lagi. Phir ham dono kāfī der tak ek doosré kī Musalmān choot ko baigan se chodte rahe.
“Qarīb ék ghanta kī chudāī ke baad ham alag huye aur ek doosré kī nangee banhon men samakar so gaye. Sone se pahle unhone tumhāré Uncut Hindu Lund ke fazāil aur tumhārī chudāī ke Hindu tariqon kī dāstānén bađé chatkħāré le lekar sunai thīn. Usi din se main tum se chudwāné ke liye paagal rahne lagi thi. Waise to unhone mauqā nikaalkar tum se mérī fuddee chudwa dene ka waada kiya tha. Lekin jab bhi main kahti thi to baat taal jaatī thīn. Aaj jakar tumse chudwāné ka mauqā mila. Kaisa laga méré ko chodna?”
“Kya abhī ek baar phir chodoge?”
Aisa kah kar ham logon kī chudāī ek baar phir shuru ho gayee.
Delhi pahunchte hee main Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān kī Musalmān choot aur Musalmān gānđ men do baar paanee jhaađ chuka tha.
Hamen hotel ke kamre men aaye huye do din se adhik ho chuké thé.
In do dinon kī nirantar chudāī ke baad mujhé gaharee neend aane lagee.
Main raat bhar bus men bhī nahīn soya tha.
Ek baar main soya to 9 baje tak sota hee raha.
Jab 9 baje utha to dekha ki Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān dressing table ke saamne baithī make up kar rahī thīn.
Unhone lal rang kī bahut hee aakarshak sāđī pahan rakhee thī aur ussé matching halke lal rang ka blouse jisse unkī bra kī pattī saaf dikh rahī thī.
Main seedha bathroom men ghusa aur lagbhag aadha ghante men hee ready hoke bāhar aa gayā.
Tab tak Āmnah Ħabīb Bhābhījān poorī saj chukī thīn.
Maine unko peechhe se baahon men jakađte huye halke se chooma aur kaha,
“Darling, aaj tum is lal sāđī men bahut sundar dikh rahi ho.”
“Haan tumhāré gore Musalmān chehre par ye laalī, rasile Musalmān honthon pe gulabi lipstick, ūpar se ye bađé gale ki low cut blouse men se jhankti hui Musalmān Choochiyan, sāđī aur blouse ke beech nanga pet aur kamar, tatha gudaaz peđoo ke ūpar gol naabhī, sab milakar tumhārī Musalmān jawani to qayaamat nāzil kar rahi hai.”
“Itni tårīf mat karo. Chalo méré Musalmān Shauhar se mil kar aate hain.”
“Are ye kya kar rahi ho?
Tum agar apne Musalmān Shauhar ke paas chali gayeen to phir mera kya hoga? Méré Uncut Hindu Lund kī pyaas to abhi shaant nahīn huī.”
“Do roz tak to mérī Musalmān fuddee chod chuke aur mérī Musalmān gānđ maar chuke. phir bhi tumhāré Uncut Hindu Lund kī pyaas nahīn bujhī?”
“Are nahīn Āmnah Ħabīb darling, tumharī Musalmān choot hee aisī hai ki ise jitna chodoon, utnā hī aur chodne ka man karta hai. Tum kal apne Musalmān Shauhar se mil lena. aaj to aur din bhar main tumhārī in Musalmān Choochiyon ko masalte huye tumhārī Musalmān choot chodtā aur tumhārī Musalmān gānđ mārtā rahūnga.”
“Achchha, agar ab bhi tum men jaan baaqī hai, to aa jao maidan men, dekh kya rahe ho?”
Yah chunautee sunte hee maine Āmnah Ħabīb ko baahon men jakađ liyā.
Unhén bistar par gira diyā aur unkī tanī huī Musalmān choochion ko blouse ke ūpar se hee masalne laga.
Maine apne jalte Hindu honth unke rasile Musalmān honthon par rakh diye, unhone halka sa munh khola aur isee beech maine apnī jeebh unke munh men ghusa dee.
Maine unkī sāđī ūpar utha ke unkī kamar men lapet dee aur unkī Musalmān choot kī daraar par apnī angulī tika dee.
Main kāfī der tak unkī Musalmān choot kī daraar ko angulī se ragađta raha aur phir méra Uncut Hindu Lund unkī Musalmān choot men tezee se andar bāhar karne laga.
Voh bhī mérī jaanghon kī taraf jhuk gayeen aur méré Uncut Hindu Lund ko bāhar nikaal liyā.
Kuchh der méré Uncut Hindu Lund se khelne ke baad unhone mera Uncut Hindu Lund munh men le liyā aur bađé pyaar se choosne lageen.
Ham ek doosre ko 10 minute tak chaatte aur choomte rahe.
Iske baad maine unko chit lita diyā aur mera Uncut Hindu Lund unkī Musalmān choot ke muhaane par tika diyā.
Musalmān choot ke munh par méré Uncut Hindu Lund ka sparsh paate hee unhone mérī kamar kas ke jakađ lee aur sāth hee sāth apnī Musalmān gānđ bhī uchhaal dee.
Mera Uncut Hindu Lund ek hee jhatke men unkī Musalmān choot men sama gayā.
Phir main raftaar tez karta gayā aur ek baar phir méré Uncut Hindu Lund aur unkī Musalmān choot men bhīshañ Dharmyuddh chhiđ gayā.
“Ooohhh aaaahhh Unh. Are Durgesh mérī jān! Méré Hindu Piya! Hindu Al Buåūlatul Muslimāt, Hindu husband of Musalmān Beauties, Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, aur zor se chodo. Haan , aur kas ke méré Rajjaa, aur kass ke chodo. Haann aur haannn.”
“Sambhaalo meri jaan. Main tumhārī Musalmān choot men poore zor se thel raha hoon apna Uncut Hindu Lund. Méré pooré Uncut Hindu Lund ko apnī Musalmān bur men lelo.”
“Chodo, aur zor se chodo. Poora bhītar pel pel ke chodoooo …. Méré Rajaaa …”
Main unko paaglon kī taraħ chode jaa raha thā,
“Oh Āmnah Ħabīb darling ! Main aa raha hoon. Lo sambhaalo.”
“Main bhī jhađné vālī hoon. Oh …… Chodo mujhé aaj jeeeee bhar ke ….”
Aur is baar ant shant bakte huye ham sāth sāth jhađe.
Aaaj to maine unkī voh chudāī kī jo maine apnī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD, kī bhī kabhī nahīn kī.
Saiyadā Fātimah PhD itna sāth nahīn de sakti thī mérā bistar par.
Phir unhone mera Uncut Hindu Lund apne munh men le liyā aur use chaat chaat ke saaf karne lageen.
Phir unhone apnī taangen phaila kar apnī Musalmān choot buree taraħ se chudee huyee bhosđee chauđee kar dee.
Aur méré Uncut Hindu Lund ko phir apnī Musalmān choot se laga diyā jise maine bhī fauran phir andar pel diyā.
“Mazā aaya Bhābhījān?”
“Kuchh aisa jugaađ lagaao ki main tumhen apnī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD aur Kħadījah Muħammad, ke saamne chod sakoon. Main tum teenon ko ek sāth chodna chaahta hoon. Agar tum jugaađ laga sako to tumhe tumhāré Musalmān shauhar ke saamne chodne ka mera sapna poora ho jaata. Please koi upaay karo na taki wo khud tumhārī Musalmān choot apni ungliyon se phaila kar tumhārī Musalmān choot men mera Uncut Hindu Lund daal de.”
“Wapas chalo to koi na koi jugaađ sochti hoon. Main bhi tumhen apne saamne tumhārī bīvī , Saiyadā Fātimah PhD Bājī aur Kħadījah Muħammad, ko chodte huye dekhna chaahtee hoon. Suna hai, Saalee Kħadījah Muħammad bahut apnī Makkan Saåūdī Årab Musalmān gānđ utha utha kar tumsé chudwaatī hai. Musalmān chooton men ghuste nikalte Uncut Hindu Lund ko dekhne mein mujhé bhi bađā mazā aata hai.”
Maine hanskar pūchhā,
“Are tumne kab Kħadījah Muħammad ko mujhsé chudwaate huye dekha hai?”
Us ne batāya ki:
“Dékhā to nahīn, lékin mérī chhoti nanad, Sidrah Aħmad sé sunā zaroor hai.Ek din main ghar par akeli thi, tabhi méré ghar kī call bell baj uthī. Maine darwāzā khola to saamne méré ek bahut purānā Hindu aashiq, Ajay Vikrānt Pratāp khađé thé, ACP Vikrānt Pratāp ke bété.
“Unko dekhte hi mujhé apné unke sāth bitaaye huye din yaad aane lage. Main unke sāth bitaaye hasin palon men kho kar rah gayee. Mujhé to hosh tab aaya jab unhone kaha,
“Are Āmnah Ħabīb, kya mujhé andar aane ko nahīn kahogi?”
“Are aa jao na!” main hanskar bolī.
woh andar aa gayā.
main use sidhe apne bed room men le gayee.
“Tum to pahle se bhi zyādah kħūbsūrat ho gayee ho.” Voh pyār sé bola.
“ Mazāq karte ho?”
“Are nahīn, tumhārī Musalmān jawani to aur khil gayee hai. Lagta hai tumhara Musalmān shauhar tumhara bahut khayaal rakhta hai.”
“Tum fresh ho jao main kuchh khaane ko laatī hoon.”
“Main rāsté men kha kar aaya hoon, kuchh khilaana hi hai to ek baar apna Musalmān ħusn khila do na, main bahut dinon se tumhāré liye tađap raha hoon.”
Aur unhone mujhé apnī Hindu baahon men jakađ liyā.
“Are sabr karo, ab jab tum aa hi gaye ho, to ji bhar ke kar lena, abhi koi aa gayā to lene ke dene pađ jayenge.”
“Jo bhi ho ab to mujh se bardasht nahīn ho raha hai, please ek baar kar lene do, please.”
Aur phir unhone mérī Musalmān Choochiyon ko masalna shuru kar diyā. Aur méré gaalon aur honthon ko bhi choomta ja raha tha.
Unhone dhire dhire méré kapđé kholna shuru kar diyā.
Kuchh hi der men main unke saamne bikul nangee khađī thi. Woh mérī Musalmān Choochiyon ko aur mérī Musalmān choot ko nihare ja raha tha. Phir unhone mujhé apnī banho men bhar liyā aur mérī Musalmān Choochiyon ko masalne laga. Main unke kapđon ko ek ek kar ke kholne lagi. Jab ham donon bilkul nange ho gaye to wo mujhé bistar par khīnch laaya. Wo mérī Musalmān choot ko tatolne laga. Main unke khađé Uncut Hindu Lund ko sahlane lagee. Wo bahut zyādah uttejit ho chuka tha, is liye bina waqt ganwaaye hi mujhé leta kar mérī Musalmān choot men apna Uncut Hindu Lund daal kar mujhé chodne laga.
“Bahut dinon baad uska mota Uncut Hindu Lund mila tha is liye main bhi bađī masti men us se chudwa rahi thi. Ham donon itne masti men the ki ab hame kisi baat ka hosh nahīn tha.
“Uska Uncut Hindu Lund mérī Musalmān choot men danā dan andar bāhar ho raha tha. Main apné Musalmān koolhé utha utha kar us se chudwa hi rahi thi ki ek dam mérī chhotī nanad méré bed room men aa gayee. Bed room ka darwāzā band karna ham bhul gaye the ham. Wo ghabra kar mujh se alag huwa aur apne nange Hindu Purush shareer ko chhupaane laga. Mérī chhotī nanad mérī Musalmān Choochiyon par ghoonsā maartee huee bolī,
“Are Bhābhījān, ye kya kar rahi ho? kaun hai ye Hindu, jis se tum aise din dahaađé chudwa rahi thīn? aane do Bhāījān ko aaj main tumharī kħāl khīnchvātī hoon.”
“Please, Sidrah Aħmad, aisa mat karna. tum jo kahogi main maanne ko taiyar hoon, lekin apné Bhāījān ko ye sab mat batāana.”
“Thīk hai nahīn batāūngi, lekin is ke liye ek shart hai.” Sidrah Aħmad akađkar bolī.
“Mujhé manzoor hai, apnī shart batāo.”
“Shart ye hai ki tum mérī aankhon ke saamne is Hindu se chudwaawo, main iske sāth tumhārī chudāī ka khel dekhna chaahtee hoon, tāki samajh sakoon ki ham sab Musalmān ħasīnāyén Hinduon sé chudvāné ke liyé itni kyon marī jātī hain, ki apné Musalmān shauharon sé béwafāī tak karné mein hamén koī sharm nahīn maħsūs hotī.”
“Bas itni si baat? ye to main kar hi rahi thi.”
“Ab méré saamne karo.”
“Aao, Ajay Pratāp, méré Hindu raja, mérī Musalmān fuddee iske saamne chod kar dikha do, ye saalee bahut ħarāmzādī hai. Aksar Hindu mardon aur Musalmān ħasīnāon ki blue films dekha karti hai, aur kayee baar jītī jaagtī blue film dekhne ko kaha karti thi. Aaj ise ji bhar ke dikha do.”
Mérī baat khatm hote hi Ajay Pratāp ne phir se mujhé pakađ kar bistar par lita diyā aur mérī janghon ko phaila kar mérī Musalmān choot men apna mota Uncut Hindu Lund daal kar danā dan phir mujhé chodne laga.
“Mérī chhotī nanad, Sidrah Aħmad, méré baghal men baith kar mérī Musalmān choochion ko masalne lagi.
Wo jhuk jhuk kar mérī Musalmān choot men Ajay Pratāp ke Uncut Hindu Lund ko ghuste nikalte dekh rahi thi.
Mérī Musalmān choot men apne Uncut Hindu Lund se dhakka maarte maarte méré chodū Hindu yaar, Ajay Pratāp ne mérī chhotī nanad ki ek Musalmān Choochī ko pakađ kar masal diyā.
“Are Sidrah Aħmad darling, tumhārī Musalmān Choochī to is se bhi zyādah mast hai.”
“Abhi to kapđé ke ūpar se chhua hai. nangee kar ke dekho, aur chhuo to is saalee kī Musalmān Choochī kabhi yaad bhi nahīn aayegi. Tum jo iskī pachaason Hinduon se chudwayee huyee Musalmān choot pe itne diwaane huwe ja rahe ho, jab meri Musalmān choot dekhoge to use chodne ke liye paagal ho jaoge.” Mérī chhotī nanad apna ek haath apnī Musalmān Choochī par aur ek sāđī ke ūpar se Musalmān choot par rakh kar dabate huye bol pađī.
“Zara inhen khol kar dikhaao na.” Ajay Pratāp ne mérī chhoti nanad, Sidrah Aħmad sé kahā.
Mujhé chudwaate huye dekh kar Sidrah Aħmad bhi poorī masti men aa chuki thi.
Usne phata phat apne saare kapđé khol daale aur méré chodu yaar, Ajay Pratāp ka mota Uncut Hindu Lund mérī Musalmān choot se khīnch kar apnī Musalmān choot kī taraf karne lagi.
Usne méré Hindu yaar, Ajay Pratāp, ka Uncut Hindu Lund itna zor se khīncha tha ki wo dard se chaatpatate huwe mujh se alag ho kar mérī chhotī nanad ko patakħ kar uske ūpar chađhte huye ek hi dhakké men apna poora Uncut Hindu Lund uskī Musalmān choot men ghusa diyā.
“Aise zabardast dhakke ke liye Sidrah Aħmad taiyar nahīn thī.
woh dard ke maare zor se chilla uthi.
Ghabra kar Ajay Pratāp ne apna Uncut Hindu Lund waapas khīnch liyā.
Is pe Sidrah Aħmad uski khilli udati bol pađī,
“Are Hindu Chudakkađ, chodo na, chhođ kyon diyā mujhé chodna?”
Phir Ajay Pratāp apna Uncut Hindu Lund Sidrah Aħmad kī Musalmān choot men pel kar jaldi jaldi dhakke maarne laga.
Mérī chhotī nanad kī Musalmān choot men uska Uncut Hindu Lund bađī tezī ke sāth andar bāhar ho raha tha. Apnī Musalmān choot men pađté Ajay Pratāp ke har Hindu dhakke ke jawab men Sidrah Aħmad bađī tezī se apnī Musalmān gānđ ūpar kī taraf uchhaal deti. Apnī Musalmān gānđ utha utha kar woh bađī masti men Ajay Pratāp sé chudwa rahi thi. Uskī Musalmān choot men taabađ tođ Ajay Pratāp ka Uncut Hindu Lund andar bāhar aa jaa raha tha. Mérī chhotī nanad, Sidrah Aħmad, ke munh se bađī åjīb qism ki siskariyan nikal rahi thīn.
“Apnī Musalmān choot men Ajay Pratāp ke Uncut Hindu Lund se dhakke marwati hui Sidrah Aħmad mujhé apne ūpar kheench li aur mérī ek Musalmān Choochī ko apne munh men lekar choosne lagi.
“Apna haath mérī Musalmān choot par rakh kar apnī ungliyon se mérī Musalmān choot ko khodne lagi.
Ye sab dekh kar mera yaar, Ajay Pratāp, aur masti men aa gayā aur mérī chhotī nanad, Sidrah Aħmad, kī Musalmān choot men aur jaldi jaldi apna Uncut Hindu Lund andar bāhar karne laga. Wo bhi apnī Musalmān gānđ uchhaal uchhaal kar chudwaatī rahi. Kaafi der kī lagatar chudai ke baad Ajay Pratāp ka Uncut Hindu Lund mérī chhotī nanad, Sidrah Aħmad, kī Musalmān choot men hee apna paanee chhođné laga. Is per voh aur zyādah mast ho kar us se aur zor se chipak gayee. Ab uskī Musalmān choot ne bhi paanee chhođna shuru kar diyā. Dono kaafi der tak ek doosré se hānfte huwe chipke rahe phir alag huwe.
“Ab mérī chhotī nanad, Sidrah Aħmad, ne apnī Musalmān choot ke agal baghal aur méré yaar, Ajay Pratāp, ke Uncut Hindu Lund ke agal baghal phaile Musalmān choot aur Uncut Hindu Lund ke mishrit paanee ko chaat kar saaf karne ka ħukm mujhé diyā.
Maine inkaar kiyā, to phir méré Musalmān Shauhar sé, apné Bhāījān sé, sab kuchh batā dene kī dhamki dene lagi. Jiskī vajah sé pahle uskī Musalmān choot ko phir apne yaar, Ajay Pratāp, ke Uncut Hindu Lund ko chaat chaat kar main saaf karne lagi. Jab main apne yaar, Ajay Pratāp, ke Uncut Hindu Lund ko chaat kar saaf kar rahi thi tab Sidrah Aħmad mérī Musalmān choot ko phaila kar mérī Musalmān choot men apnī jeebh daal kar chaat rahi thi.
More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh
1. Bahoo Bégum
30. Sālī, Ammījān!
44. Hell, I revolt
64. I live with him
More creative adult sex in Hindi/Urdu from Durgesh:
13. Eidul Fitr-1