Ved Nagar: 32

Kħātūn-e-Jannat

Volume 2

Ved Nagar

Durgesh

Previous Chapters

Chapter 32

Durgesh Jamīlah Aurangzeb
Durgesh Bābarah Åālamgīr
Durgesh Zubaydah Bābar

She was a little worried too.
Soon the shaking and shuddering stopped and the flow of juice reduced to a dripping.
Zubaydah Bābar attempted to stand up but her Musalmān legs were like rubber.
I grasped her under an arm and helped her turn around and sit on the back of the couch.
“How do you feel? Is that what you wanted?” I asked Zubaydah Bābar.
Zubaydah Bābar looked at me, pulled me to her and kissed me.
“That was exactly what I wanted. It was the best orgasm I ever had.”

Nishāt Nazli was still staring at her friend.
“Wow, you really liked that. I mean I really bit down hard. Didn’t it hurt?”
I answered for Zubaydah Bābar.
“Of course it hurt. Zubaydah Bābar likes a little pain with her pleasure. Don’t you, Zubaydah Bābar?”
Zubaydah Bābar nodded her head and a sheepish smile crossed her awfully stunning immensely pretty, immensely smart, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Pakistani Musalmān face.
“I like it best when it hurts a little. I guess I’m weird.”
I laughed.
“I bet you like to be tied up too, and maybe some spanking or something.”
Now Zubaydah Bābar really started to blush.
“I never tried it, but it sounds like fun.” She admitted.
I helped her stand.
“Come on, Nishāt Nazli; let’s help her to my bed. She’s a little wrung out. Then we can see about her fantasies.”
Nishāt Nazli looked a little fearful.
“You’re not going to hurt me like that. Are you?”
“Not unless you want me to.” I told her as we helped Zubaydah Bābar to the bedroom. “Everybody has fantasies of some sort. Some are more mundane than others are. Some are outright weird and dangerous. Zubaydah Bābar’s are just a little rough. However, she has to be careful whom she acts them out with. The wrong person could really hurt her. She is a masochist. She likes pain. If she were to pair up with a hard-core sadist, he could really hurt her or maybe kill her if he really has a problem. Therefore, Zubaydah Bābar, promise me you won’t go indulging your fantasy with just anyone. Make sure you know them really well and preferably make sure there is a third person involved to put a stop to it if it starts to get out of hand.”
Zubaydah Bābar just nodded.
“I know it’s dangerous and I only let it go like that once before. I … I probably wouldn’t have let it happen today but I trust you. I know that Durgesh wouldn’t hurt me.” Zubaydah Bābar smiled at me.
I smiled back as we lay Zubaydah Bābar on the bed.
I crawled in beside Zubaydah Bābar and kissed her gently on the lips.

Nishāt Nazli sat on the edge of the bed and I looked at her.
“So Nishāt Nazli, what kind of fantasies do you have? What do you dream about that gets you really hot? If I can help, I will. If it’s too far out for me, then maybe we can get close.”
Nishāt Nazli blushed and looked away.
“I’ve already had most of my fantasies, like we did the other day. You know with you and Zubaydah Bābar, a three way. I also … well we’re living one now, all of us running around the house naked and a Hindu mature man chasing us around and screwing us.” Nishāt Nazli giggled.
“Hindu mature man?” Zubaydah Bābar smiled cunningly, “Have you noticed, here in Ved Nagar, it’s quite normal. Isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Nishāt Nazli looked at Zubaydah Bābar questioningly.
“Hindus here, are enjoying marital relations and live in relationship with modern young Musalmān Beauties more, than anywhere. Haven’t you noticed it? In a recent survey, here at Ved Nagar, 90% mature Hindus are found having marital relations/live in relationships with the ultramodern PhD Musalmān Beauties aged 28 to 35, while the Hindus are mostly aged 50 and above.”
“Long live Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.” I said curtly.
Nishāt Nazli twisted herself to me.
“You mean Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has done it?”
I laughed.
“What do you think? It’s natural?”
“Why not?” Zubaydah Bābar said, “I asked Nasīm Muåāwiyah why she prefers you. She says she wants a man for her, thoroughly experienced, strong, capable, not a boy that is as inexperienced as she herself is.”
“You are repeating only what the young Musalmān Beauties life partners of 90% mature Hindus of Ved Nagar said in that survey.” I said bitterly.
Zubaydah Bābar and Nishāt Nazli both looked at each other and smiled.
“Don’t you agree with them?” Zubaydah Bābar asked me somewhat uncertainly.
“Well, it’s their life and it’s their decision.” I said noncommittally.
“But you don’t appreciate it, do you?”
“I think there’s another view also expressed about it.”
“Of Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s, your former live in relationship partner’s?”
“She is still the Attorney General here at Ved Nagar.” I said gravely, “Isn’t she?”
“Sure,” Bābarah Åālamgīr interfered entering there and joining us, “our Mayor is the most lenient man in the history of entire humankind. Everyone advised him to take action against the present Attorney General, Jamīlah Aurangzeb. Yet, he denied all such suggestions.”*

The visit had been quite unexpected.
Jamīlah Aurangzeb had forgotten that she had made the appointment.
She had forgotten to cancel it.
She should have canceled it after she’d promised to have dinner with the Mayor.
Now, Jamīlah Aurangzeb was trying to get it over with as quickly and gracefully as possible.
Yet, Jamīlah Aurangzeb didn’t want to hurt the man sitting opposite her.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan was a great man, as far as she knew him.
He was one of the most respected men here at Ved Nagar.
Nafīsah Salmān always tried to disgrace him either this way or that, but Durgesh had suddenly granted the request of Sarvochch Brahmarshi, to make Imām Muħammad Ħasan the executive head of Ashvinātam, the residence of the Mayor of Ved Nagar.
Nafīsah Salmān laughed on it ironically.
“Prakash succeeded ultimately in pleasing his younger most successful Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat Bhābhījān, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the new President of former Saůūdī Årab. Nafīsah Salmān Bhābhījān is not as important for Sarvochch Brahmarshi now, as she was once. I’m surprised at even Durgesh surrendered to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. I never imagined it even.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“You must not be as jealous to your own daughter, Ammī, as you are now. Durgesh surrendered to me? Hahaha. Sarvochch Brahmarshi succeeded in pleasing me ultimately? Does he even need it ever?”

At another time, Jamīlah Aurangzeb could have really enjoyed talking with such a man of principles that he even sacrificed his position in Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat’s National Council.
They called it that.
In imitation of Ved Nagar’s Council?
But Ved Nagar wasn’t a country.
Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat was.
Jamīlah Aurangzeb couldn’t enjoy however it now.
Not tonight, with the heap of papers on her desk still to be read, with the long tense evening in the Ashvinātam.
Well, she was capable enough not to feel awkward facing her former live in relationship partner.
It would have been normal if only her daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr, hadn’t exaggerated it.
She was still making it a great issue.
“It’s normal, Bābarah.” Jamīlah Aurangzeb had tried to explain it to her daughter, “I needed Durgesh once as much as you need him now. You may think it was my obsession to him. You may think I needed extraordinary sex then. Now you are yourself an adult. You can understand it now thoroughly. Why the hell are you exaggerating it?”
Bābarah Åālamgīr was furious.
“I am exaggerating it?”
“Don’t you?”
“Certainly not. Durgesh is exaggerating it.”
“That you are his stepdaughter?” Jamīlah Aurangzeb smiled ironically.
“Am not I?”
“Certainly not. A stepdaughter relationship is a marital relationship, not a relationship that comes out of a live in relationship.”
“I agree with you.” Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled, “live in relationship doesn’t generate any marital relationship because live in relationship itself isn’t a marital relationship. You and Durgesh were never married. So, there isn’t any harm if I replace you myself as Durgesh’s new live in relationship partner.”
“That’s right. That’s the legal status of this relationship here in Ved Nagar.” Jamīlah Aurangzeb said.
Bābarah Åālamgīr beamed at her Ammī.
“That’s the legal opinion of the Attorney General of India?”
“Attorney General of Ved Nagar.” Jamīlah Aurangzeb smiled at her daughter, “Ved Nagar legally now somewhat enjoys the special status like Jammu and Kashmir. It has its own Attorney General. Ved Nagar is too advanced in technology that the rest of India can’t maintain same legal system. The Government of India has to allow Ved Nagar to have its own legal system and its own Attorney General, as Ved Nagar refused to separate itself from India.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr laughed.
“Ved Nagar hates separation ab initio. It wants to bring the entire infinite creations, instead, under one Federal Government with utmost possible autonomy to every member state.”*

Jamīlah Aurangzeb watched Imām Muħammad Ħasan.
“What do you think of your husband, Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr, Attorney General of Ved Nagar?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan asked Jamīlah Aurangzeb casually.
Jamīlah Aurangzeb, the Attorney General of Ved Nagar, watched Imām Muħammad Ħasan, scrutinizing him now.
What was he after, actually?
She smiled, casually herself.
“What do I think of my husband, Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr?”
“Sure, that was my question.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled shrewdly.
Jamīlah Aurangzeb immediately thought of the physical Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr.
No doubt, her husband was very impressive among Musalmīn with his bearded face.
Even the persons, who did not hate terrorist Musalmīn to the extent Dr. Ali Sina, his co-authors and his followers did, respected Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr very much.
Yet, the Attorney General of Ved Nagar, Jamīlah Aurangzeb, knew very well, what her husband, Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr, was actually.
She smiled ironically.
Perhaps, Imām Muħammad Ħasan was right.
Her husband, Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr, was perhaps fooling even Durgesh successfully.
Was it her own mistake?
She shouldn’t have asked him for divorce.*

Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr was a blustering, loud mouthed, braying, harsh, and almost as tall as Durgesh, with a rasping, rough, voice.
His eyes were small squinting, and gimlet in a small round head set atop a short thick neck on a brawny, strong, expanse of chest.
It was however, his exterior.
It wasn’t as important as his interior was in her opinion.
Should she confirm Imām Muħammad Ħasan’s doubts about her husband?
“Frankly,” Jamīlah Aurangzeb said, “I think Durgesh and you both know about my husband even more than me. Durgesh respects you more and his faith in you is stronger than even Durgesh’s faith in Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Nafīsah Salmān.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“That’s right. Yet you are his wife.”
“So what? Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr isn’t one of the persons who have more faith in his wife/wives than in the persons more reliable to him.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan kept smiling.
“How many wives he has?”
“Three more I think, according to Muslim Personal Law.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly.
“Maulānā Aurangzeb Åālamgīr obeys Muslim Personal Law?”
Jamīlah Aurangzeb watched Imām Muħammad Ħasan prudently.
“He has to, if he wants to keep Muslim opinion with him.”
“It isn’t any Islamic country.”
Jamīlah Aurangzeb retorted.
“Ved Nagar is worse in some matters.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan couldn’t believe Jamīlah Aurangzeb.
“Ved Nagar is worse in some matters?”
“Sure, why are you so surprised?”
“They say Ved Nagar is the best place to live at, for Musalmān Beauties.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled shrewdly.
“They are right. Yet, even the best place to live at, for us Musalmān Beauties, is being hounded by the shrewdest Pseudo Musalmīn now.” Jamīlah Aurangzeb retorted once more.
“You mean you Musalmān Beauties aren’t safe from Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists even here at Ved Nagar?”
Jamīlah Aurangzeb watched Imām Muħammad Ħasan.
“Ved Nagar has an utmost dangerous policy.”
“And what’s that, if I may ask the Attorney General of Ved Nagar?”
Jamīlah Aurangzeb again watched him scrutinizing.
“Ved Nagar believes in ‘Imām Nārīm Sukr’té dadhāt’ and ‘Indro nirjyotishā tamaso gā aduxat’.”

“And it’s dangerous?”
“Sure it is.” Jamīlah Aurangzeb, the Attorney General of Ved Nagar, said academically, “Ved Nagar is an ideal state established by Durgesh, Prakāsh, Ved Prakāsh and other Vedic Monotheist Hindus…”
“I don’t think so.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
Jamīlah Aurangzeb, the Attorney General of Ved Nagar, looked at him quite surprised.
“You don’t think so?”
“No. For your kind information, Jamīlah Aurangzeb, the Attorney General of Ved Nagar, the Musalmān Beauties having marital/Sexual/Love/live in relationships with the Hindus are more in numbers than Hindus even that established Ved Nagar. Moreover, I am also one of the persons that are responsible for establishment of Ved Nagar.”*

Jamīlah Aurangzeb was dumbfounded.
She watched Imām Muħammad Ħasan incredulously.
“Youuuuuuuuuuuuuu? You are one of the persons that found Ved Nagar?”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan watched Jamīlah Aurangzeb shrewdly.
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I thought you are a communal Musalmān.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Well?”
“If you are a communal Musalmān, why the hell you were one of the persons that found Ved Nagar?”
“So?”
“Either you aren’t a communal Musalmān or you aren’t one of the persons that found Ved Nagar.”*

I looked at the pile of paperwork on my desk and rubbed at my eyes.
It had been a really long day, and only midway through what was bound to be a long week.
It had begun with my friend Aħmad Åbdullāh’s death two days ago, and since then the Island had been a hive of activity getting things prepared.

In a couple of days Aħmad Åbdullāh’s children would arrive on the Island, having just found out that they were triplets given up for adoption, and they’d be meeting here for the very first time.
On top of that, I had a burial to organise for Aħmad Åbdullāh on the Island.
Add in organising supplies and planning for every contingency, and it was no wonder I felt exhausted somewhat.
It was two in the morning and high time I had some stress relief.

I got up from my desk and moved to the door of my office, part of my home on the Island upstairs from the clinic, and headed for the exit, moving quietly down the stairs, as was my habit.
Once outside, I smiled.
I’d always loved the cool breeze that caressed the Island through the night.

I turned left and took the path down to the beach, taking a right between two large bushes on the narrow path the kitchen staff used to bring supplies into the kitchens.
A couple of turns and I was moving around the edge of the building where the Island’s food was prepared and stored, unstaffed at this time of night.
I knew if anyone spotted me s/he’d just assume I was going for my habitual late night snack, but I knew different.

I bypassed the main doors to the kitchen and entered the small courtyard that served the dual purpose of somewhere to store the trash and somewhere the chefs and porters could sneak out to for a smoke.
Casually I glanced around.
Seeing no one, I slipped over to the backdoor of the pastry kitchen and entered a code in the keypad, a different code from the one normally used to open the door.

A quiet bump sounded next to one of the bins and I moved to the corner, reached down and pulled the handle that was now protruding from the flagstoned yard.
A small hatch appeared with a ladder heading down, barely visible in the moonlight.

I quickly slid myself into the narrow passage and closed the hidden hatch above me, seeing the dim lights illuminating the twenty-three rungs below me.
Reaching the bottom, I turned around and punched another code into the wall and the small box beside it opened.
I pressed my hand to the small screen inside the box and the door, beside me, swung open.

I smiled in anticipation.
I had a lot of catching up to do.

I entered the saferoom, or as I thought of it, the ‘Bunker’ where I could retreat to if the Island was ever attacked.
I ignored the open plan living area and kitchen and moved straight to the door on my left, a control room where I could make contact with the outside world if need be, but my focus wasn’t on the emergency facilities.
I moved straight to the console housing the covert CCTV system that Aħmad Åbdullāh had painstakingly built in secret over the last fifteen years.

My friend’s words came back to me, as they always did when he looked at the setup.
“There’s no point in being trapped in here. Much better to see what’s going on outside. Then you retain an advantage the other side doesn’t even know about. Information is power.”

I smiled and moved to the large leather desk chair facing the bank of fifteen screens.
Three large screens, a dozen smaller, all assigned letters from A to O.
The one hundred and thirty eight cameras hidden around the Island were numbered, making the system incredibly simple to operate.
Simply type in the letter for the screen, then the camera number, hit enter and that’s what you saw.

The whole system was set up on a motion-activation principle, immediately discarding data that had nothing happening and that suited my purposes perfectly.

I settled my fingers on the keyboard, typed A68 and hit Enter.
The first of the three large screens flickered into view, a camera situated in the bedroom of Aħmad Åbdullāh’s favourite PA, Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad.
She was one of my favourites too, a hot, toned Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān blonde with a bundle of intelligence and determination.
It wasn’t her intellect that interested me at present though, as I watched the live feed from her vacant bedroom.
My memory provided me hundreds of images of her sleeping in that very bed.

I felt the familiar stirring in my Hindu groin and smiled.
Time to move the recording back.

My fingers found the small dial next to the keyboard, punched in the camera number and then rotated it back.
The simple system allowed me to review all recorded footage from that particular camera and I was viewing it in reverse.
A couple of chambermaids darted around briefly at high speed, and then the footage caught up to Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad undressing, and then sleeping.
The footage continued in reverse at high speed, skipping past hours of her lying still.
She’d been asleep for five hours or so when I saw her leap out of bed, naked, and grab a towel, then disappearing backwards into the bathroom.

I reset the dial, my left hand coming to rest on my belt, and as the footage began to play on the screen, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan unfastened my belt and trousers.
She had joined me in the meantime.

Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad appeared from the bathroom, her skin flushed from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy white towel.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan pulled down my fly and slid her hand in my trousers.
Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad opened her towel.

I saw her side on as she lifted the towel, her body taught and firm, her breasts pert and round.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan slipped her hand around my Uncut Hindu Cock, slowly stroking me as I watched Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad dry herself.
She moved too quickly for me though, drying herself rapidly then slipping under the sheet on her bed, settling down to go to sleep.

I frowned and punched in B69, bringing up the footage from the en-suite bathroom in Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad’s room.
I punched 69 in next to the dial and rolled it back, seeing her in a high-speed blur in the shower, moving it back to play as soon as the maid appeared who’d cleaned the bathroom earlier.

While Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan stroked me in anticipation, the maid finished her work, the lighting changed and Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad appeared.
Dressed only in a black thong, she walked up to the sink, her gorgeous Musalmān breasts on display.
she brushed her teeth.
I zoomed the camera in on her ever-erect Musalmān breasts.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was stroking my Uncut Hindu Cock as I watched them jiggle back and forth with every motion of her arm.

“Come on, you hot Musalmān Sex goddess,” I muttered. “Get in the damn shower.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled and squeezed my Uncut Hindu Cock eloquently.

The teeth brushing continued for another minute.
Then Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad disappeared off screen.
I zoomed the view back out, seeing her step into the shower cubicle.
The water began immediately and I slowed the footage down as she stepped out the cubicle to remove her thong.
In slow motion, Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad inserted her thumbs in her waistband and bent over, sliding the black material down her hips, thighs and finally to the floor, and with a casual flick of her foot, the thong ended up back in the bedroom.

Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s grip tightened on my Uncut Hindu Cock.
Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad always did this before she went in the shower.
Always.
I zoomed in a little closer.

Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad stood up straight and stretched, her arms rising high above her head, her ever-erect Musalmān breasts jutting out.
I groaned, squeezing my lips in anticipation of what came next.

Her right hand slid down over her taught, flat stomach, sliding down over her shaved skin until her middle finger made contact with her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān clitoris.

“Go on, you fucking Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī hot Musalmān Sex goddess,” I muttered as I watched.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed and took my Uncut Hindu Penis into her extremely beautiful Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Panjvaqtah Namāzī mouth.
She started to suck me devotedly.

Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad’s middle finger rubbed her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān clit up and down a couple of times, then in slow-motion, she moved it down her slit, rubbed up and down once, then plunged her middle finger deep inside her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.

“Fuck that extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, you extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ever hottest sex goddess,” I growled.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan whispered,
“Fuck me, imagine you are fucking the bitch Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad, instead of me.”
I smiled.
“Why the imagination? You are far more beautiful than Al Kħadījah Al Muħammad.”
“Thank you.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan put her palm on my chest and pushed me back gently.
I lay on my back now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan immediately straddled on my standing perpendicular Uncut Hindu Cock.
It disappeared into Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s extremely beautiful Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān young Cunt, gradually, entirely ultimately.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me.
“Happy, Durgesh darling, méré Hindu Piyā, Hindu Al Buůūlatul Muslimāt, hum Musalmān ħasīnāon ké Hindu Kħasam, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties?”
“Sure, my dear ever young Musalmān lady.” I myself returned her wink lewdly, “What the hell more my Uncut Hindu Cock demands after all?”
“A Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt around it.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed suggestively.
I pulled her on me and kissed vehemently.
We both were nude now entirely.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was a nudist feminist.
To meet her on her own ground, I had to be myself a nudist manist, nothing less.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wanted wildest animal sex.
She was a strict One Man Woman.
It was natural that I had to provide her the wildest animal sex she loved very much.
Well, contrary to the general outlook, I never thought Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was wrong in her desire however.
Her body needed it.
She was rightfully getting it from me.
It was her fundamental woman right on her man.
It was her fundamental human right on her man.
There wasn’t anything wrong in it.
Never.

Chapter 33
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1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh

2.Durgesh in Hindi/Urdu

3. Science Fiction

4. On History

5. Commentary on Ved

6. On Hinduism

7. On Islam