Her Three Generations
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and I went out later, wandering from our city centre hotel down towards the Coliseum, before walking back through the roman Forum.
We stopped often, soaking up the atmosphere, imagining the roar of the crowds hundreds of years before, imagining the Senators meeting, talking, and plotting.
It was an unseasonably warm day.
We found a café and sat outside to eat Pizza, drink coffee and watch the world go by.
We took a horse drawn carriage to the pantheon, and marvelled at the beauty of the paintings and sculptures inside.
We walked around the city, soaking up the atmosphere and history, walking hand in hand, enjoying being together.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās still couldn’t believe she was too my wife now despite the fact that she was only Just Eighteen Just Adult when she first succeeded in having my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-four years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund into her then Just Eighteen Just Adult Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
She was jealous of her Nānī Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, when she deliberately watched her having sex with me.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās could never understand why her Nānī Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, revolted against her Nānā Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan and started to live openly with his ever greatest enemy, the ever infamous Anant Muslimātchod Hindu, Durgesh.
“Kħālājān, I hate Nānī Ammī immensely.” She told Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan expressly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly.
“I myself hate her, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās. But we can’t do anything.”
“Now I understand why the Musalmīn turn to be terrorists.” Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās said furiously, “The Hindus always manage to have sex with our ever sacred Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān womankind, either this way or that way.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her elder sister’s daughter calculatingly.
She couldn’t be more than thirteen now.
At the most, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās could be fourteen only.
He hated wild animal sex basically.
It wasn’t a human act for him ever.
Yet, Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, needed it very much.
Her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, actually never had another option.
Not even any other Hindu male.
Not perhaps even Shankar Mahāpralayankar.
Moreover, Shankar Mahāpralayankar was an ardent anti Muslim Hindu, even if Nafīsah Salmān could forget that Shankar Mahāpralayankar was a criminal that was immensely capable to dodge the law and order of every country anywhere.
He was Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar actually.
Shankar Mahāpralayankar never did it.
He never needed to.
As it began to get dark, we returned to the hotel, to the suite we now shared.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband spotted Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās‘s bikini and teased her, asking if she had managed to get a swim that morning.
“Come on,” she retorted, grabbing her bikini, “Let’s go now.”
“I can think of other things to do,” I told her.
She stripped off, standing naked before me.
Her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body was firm and beautiful.
However, with a laugh, she wriggled away from me and pulled her bikini on quickly.
She reached into a draw and threw me my trunks.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband got changed quickly.
We both pulled on the robes the hotel provided before heading out towards the lifts.
Minutes later Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and I were at the indoor pool.
Dropping her gown on a sun bed, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās stepped towards the water and dived in gracefully.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband followed her more sedately, and began to swim a few lengths, always looking out for Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās.
She swam well, passing me a few times as her years of practice began to show.
After swimming a couple of dozen lengths, the Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband stopped at the shallow end and rested, my back against the edge of the pool.
We were alone now, the last of the other swimmers having just left.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās stopped next to me, both of us were glancing across at where we had met the night before.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband moved to stand in front of her.
Reaching out, I stepped closer.
My hands were on her hips.
We kissed softly.
Our Ashvinātam bodies were very close.
Despite the fact that I was sixty-five years old now, I never appeared my age.
Everyone thought I was anywhere between twenty-eight and thirty-five only.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās was nineteen now.
We were fucking each other now for a complete year already.
As we parted, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās smiled.
“It looks different in daylight,” she murmured, thinking of the night before.
“I try not to think about,” The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband told her.
“Why not,” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Because this happens,” I told, taking her hand and pressing it against the hard Hindu bulge in my trunks.
“Swim then,” she laughed, dodging past me and swimming away, teasing me.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband swam after her, but she had disappeared over to the other side of the pool.
I went after her, missing her time and again.
Each time the Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband got closer, I reached out to her, touching her, and then she was gone.
She touched my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund in passing, teasing me, but always evading me.
Eventually I caught her, laughing, in the corner.
I pulled Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās to me, kissing her hard, feeling her firm extremely beautiful female Musalmān young body against me, her erect nipples pressing into my chest, my hard ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund against her.
She pressed herself against me, her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot sliding up and down the ridge of my Ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund through my swimming trunks.
She wriggled free, and dropped below the surface of the water.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s hands tugged at my trunks, pulling my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund free.
It sprang up, released from its restraints, unaffected by the cold water.
Her beautiful quivering red crimson ardent Musalmān lips were forming a seal around me. Her tongue lapped at my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund head, buried in her extremely lovely pink young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth.
She took my balls in one hand, her other hand on my buttocks, holding me.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband groaned as this seemed to last for ages, but in reality it was only seconds before she shot to the surface, gasping for breath.
With barely a glance around, we moved to the shallow part of the pool, my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund jutting out in front of me.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband lifted her onto the edge of the pool, my lips locking onto hers as we held each other tight.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās grabbed my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund, peeling the skin back down my shaft, pulling my swollen ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund head towards her.
Dragging her bikini bottoms to one side, she exposed her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot to me.
I caught a quick glimpse of her wet, wanton lips and then I was inside her.
I pushed forward as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās wrapped her beautiful nude Musalmān legs around me, pulling tight as I drove my thick Ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund deep inside Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s young Musalmān body.
As we fucked, the Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband tugged at the strings of her bikini top, pulling it away from her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body, freeing her full exquisite young Musalmān breasts.
Her nipples were like pebbles pressing into my chest as we kissed, as we fucked.
Her beautiful nude Musalmān legs tightened around me, pulling me deeper and deeper inside her as I fucked her faster and faster.
She leant back; her arms behind her, her exquisite young Musalmān breasts thrust upwards, her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot pushed forward towards me.
It lasted we never knew for how long.
I always fucked her as if I was a wild animal that had gone mad.
She had always to acknowledge her defeat.
She never found her Kħālājān, now thirty-three years old, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, ever winning over me.
The ever wonderful man was defeating her three generations, including herself.
His sexual lust to fuck beautiful Musalmān houseladies of any age whatsoever was incredible.
Durgesh could just fuck them endlessly with ever increasing manly vigor even.
Ultimately, we were cumming, crying out as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot moulded itself tighter around my Ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund.
The waves of pleasure crashed through her, as spurts of my warm, thick Hindu cum filled her beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body.
We clung together, gasping to breathe, then laughing at our release, then controlling ourselves as we remembered where we were.
We dressed ultimately.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband was pulling my trunks up while Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās re-tied her top and straightened her bottoms.
We swam back to the far end of the pool, before climbing out and grabbing some towels from the pile left by the hotel.
Pulling our robes back on, we headed back to our room, eager to be alone again.*
It was late evening when we left the hotel.
We were heading towards the hard Rock Café, a venue we always enjoyed.
Fortunately, we were seated within half an hour of arriving, and were soon pondering the menu while she was sipping on ice-cold beers and I a juice.
“Hi, I’m Al Rābiyah Al Faisal. I’m your waitress for the evening.”
We both looked up from the menus and said “Hello” to our server.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal was tall and slender, in her mid twenties.
Her accented English was almost perfect.
Her dark hair was tied back, her white blouse clinging to her pert Musalmān body, her green skirt short and tight around her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass.
The Just Eighteen Just Adult extremely beautiful Musalmān young lady’s sixty-five years old Anant Muslimātchod Hindu husband cried out as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās kicked me on the shins, an amused grin on her face as she watched me watching Al Rābiyah Al Faisal.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal was back shortly to take our orders.
She stood next to me, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder as we smiled.
When we had ordered, she ran her hand lightly down my arm and thanked us, before sashaying away.
Her hips were swinging.
Her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass was rocking from side to side in her tight skirt.
Throughout the evening, Al Rābiyah Al Faisal was friendly and attentive, always touching my arm and running her hand down it when we were finished chatting.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās took all of this in with amusement, and not with even a little jealousy.
However, moments later it was I teasing her as Al Rābiyah Al Faisal brought Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s dessert.
She rested her hand on Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s arm as she put the ice cream in front of her, then ran her hand down her arm and squeezed Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s hand gently.
“Enjoy!” she told her.
“In which case,” I told Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās as Al Rābiyah Al Faisal walked away, “She must fancy you as well.”
Nevertheless, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās wasn’t listening – she was far too busy watching Al Rābiyah Al Faisal walking away, her eyes locked on her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass, her tongue flicking over her suddenly dry lips.
I took all of this in, my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund was hardening as I watched my Just Eighteen Just Adult young Musalmān lady, my lover, looking at the waitress.
Suddenly I remembered the way Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās had looked at other girls before, some of the comments she had made, especially about the beautiful dancer we had seen at the moulin Rouge when we were in Paris – and I began to wonder…
When we were finished, I paid the bill and left the beautiful Al Rābiyah Al Faisal an extravagant tip.
She thanked me, leaning over to kiss me on my lips naughtily, before hugging Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās.
I watched them.
As we left, Al Rābiyah Al Faisal squeezed our arms one last time, then told us that she had enjoyed meeting us, and that she finished at eleven if we fancied a drink.
Then, with a delicious, inviting smile, she was gone.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and I stared at each other, not quite sure what to make of what Al Rābiyah Al Faisal had said.
Nevertheless, both our bodies reacted to those words, to her look.
We didn’t mention Al Rābiyah Al Faisal as we walked through Rome, heading for the Tivoli fountain, wanting to see it lit up at night.
We stood by the fountains, enjoying the sound of the water, the sight of the beautiful statues and carvings.
I gave Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās a coin and told her to throw it over her shoulder into the fountain and make a wish.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās did, closing her eyes and making her wish as I watched her.
“Well,” I asked, “What did you wish for?”
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās hesitated for a moment then told me, her voice husky and her eyes bright.
“I wished we could …… make it back to the café before eleven.”
I stared at her, my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund growing hard as I took in her words, the expression on her face.
I glanced at my watch, then grabbed Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s hand and led her back the way we had come.*
We made it just in time, but then felt uncertain as we watched Al Rābiyah Al Faisal appear from the restaurant with some other waitresses.
We stood watching her, hesitating, not sure what to do when Al Rābiyah Al Faisal turned and saw us.
Her face lit up with that delicious smile again.
she quickly said goodbye to the others before walking to meet Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and me.
We both watched her walking those dozen yards.
Her long coat was undone, falling open as she walked.
She was wearing the same clothes as before, but this time our eyes were on her exquisite young Musalmān breasts, taut against her blouse, her nipples dark and promising, and on her long legs.
She appeared from beneath her coat with each step, her skirt rising high up on her stocking clad thighs.
“You made it,” she greeted us, stepping between us, turning and looping her arms through ours.
“Where shall we go,” she continued, hardly drawing breath, “Lots of places are closing now … How about your hotel? Does it have a bar? Is it far?”
I smiled and said that it wasn’t far, and then led the way.
We chatted as we walked, Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s cheery banter easing any uncertainty Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and I might have had, although neither of us thought about where this might lead.
It only took us fifteen minutes or so to get back to the hotel, but as soon as we walked into reception, we were hit by the noise of a huge party going on.
The bar was packed, as were the lounges around reception.
I looked around for somewhere quieter.
“How about our room?” Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās asked, her voice trembling slightly, “It’s big enough …. Is that okay with you Al Rābiyah Al Faisal?”
“That’s great …. Let’s use room service to get a drink; it’ll be quicker than hanging around here.”
Almost in a daze, still unsure of what was happening; Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās led the way to the lift.
Minutes later, we were back in our suite, and I was on the phone to room service ordering a bottle of champagne.
I dropped the phone back on its rest and turned back to Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and Al Rābiyah Al Faisal to tell them that the champagne was on its way.
Nevertheless, I was suddenly too cautious to speak as I took in the sight before me.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and Al Rābiyah Al Faisal stood close together.
Their exquisite young Musalmān breasts were touching, their hips pushing forward against each other, their mouths locked together.
They parted as they sensed I was looking at them.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās came to me and kissed me softly.
I could taste Al Rābiyah Al Faisal on her as our tongues slipped over each other.
Then Al Rābiyah Al Faisal was next to me, her exquisite young Musalmān breasts pressing against my arm, firm and warm.
As soon as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s lips left my, Al Rābiyah Al Faisal was kissing me, her agile Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān tongue flicking along my Hindu male lips before slipping deep into my Hindu mouth.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal led the way to the sofa in the sitting room part of the suite.
We all sank down, I in the middle, as we took turns to kiss, Al Rābiyah Al Faisal and I, Al Rābiyah Al Faisal and Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and I.
Our hands found each other easily, touching, caressing.
We stopped only when we heard tapping on the door, and a call of “room service”.
I let the waiter into the room, noticing the looks both Al Rābiyah Al Faisal and Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās gave me.
He put the champagne on the side, and left as soon as I had tipped him.
I poured their drinks, handing glasses to Al Rābiyah Al Faisal and Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās before rejoining them.
They sipped their champagne.
We chatted, totally at ease, happy for the growing sexual tension to grow even more, for our need and desire to grow.
After what seemed like an age, I leant over Al Rābiyah Al Faisal and put my glass of juice down. I took hers from her and placed it next to mine before taking her in my arms.
I kissed her softly, my hands caressing her pert exquisite young Musalmān breasts through her blouse.
Slowly, I undid each of the buttons down the front of her blouse, conscious of Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās moving to kneel in front of us so that she could help.
As soon as the buttons were undone, I eased Al Rābiyah Al Faisal onto her back on the sofa.
I pulled her blouse open, gasping as I stared down at her exquisite young Musalmān breasts, at her dark nipples barely hidden by the lace of her cream bra.
I touched her lightly, my hands moving up her sides, then across to her exquisite young Musalmān breasts, to her hard nipples.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās was still kneeling on the floor beside us.
Reaching down between my hands, between Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s exquisite young Musalmān breasts, she gently undid the clasp at the front of the cream bra.
I slid my hands across her exquisite young Musalmān breasts, into the deep Musalmān valley between them, before slipping my Hindu hands under the edge of each cup, and then slowly back across her exquisite young Musalmān breasts, exposing them to our gaze.
I felt the firmness of Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s exquisite young Musalmān breasts under my hands, of her hard, puckered nipples.
As my hands reached her sides, leaving her exquisite young Musalmān breasts totally exposed, both Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās and I gasped as we took in their beauty.
I dipped my hand, taking Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s nipple in between my thumb and forefinger.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās leant over her, and Al Rābiyah Al Faisal moaned loudly as both her nipples were teased.
I ran my hand over her flat tummy, over her skirt.
I rubbed down the front of her panties, feeling her wetness, feeling her juices rushing from her.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās moved away from her breast, and the two girls kissed – soft, passionate kisses that set them all moaning.
As my hand reached inside Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s panties, Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās stood up.
She moved away a little, so that Al Rābiyah Al Faisal and I could see her.
We watched as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās danced slowly, sensually, undoing the buttons down the front of her dress, before pushing the dress off her shoulders.
It fell to the ground as she ran her hands over her exquisite young Musalmān breasts, pinching her own nipples.
Now Al Rābiyah Al Faisal gasped as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās stood before them, naked apart from her thong.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s hands ran lower, until one was on her tummy, and one inside her underwear.
She turned around, and bent over to slip her thong off, pointing her firm Musalmān ass at us.
Her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī luscious young superb Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was peeking out between her beautiful nude Musalmān legs.
She turned back towards us, and held out her hands.
“Let’s go to bed,” was all she said.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal reached her hands up to Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās, and stood up.
The girls fell naturally into each other’s arms, their naked exquisite young Musalmān breasts pressing together.
We kissed again.
My Ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund was painfully hard.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal ran her hands down Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās’s back, down to her firm Musalmān ass.
I moved behind her, pushing her dark hair to one side so that I could kiss her neck.
I pulled her blouse and bra down her arms, leaving her topless.
As the girls carried on kissing, moaning softly as our tongues explored, I dropped to my knees, scattering kisses down Al Rābiyah Al Faisal’s slender back.
I unzipped her skirt, easing it down off her hips.
All she wore under it was a cream thong and her black hold up stockings.
Her rounded Musalmān buttocks were firm, creamy white against the rest of her.
I kissed each side of her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass gently, before easing her thong down.
I eased her stockings down as well, one at a time, leaving her naked.
Her moaning got louder as I ran my Uncut Hindu Lund between her pert Musalmān cheeks.
She pushed her gorgeous, glamorous, perfect, round, firm, luscious, Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī young Musalmān ass out, exposing more of herself to me.
I teased her tight little hole with the tip of my Uncut Hindu Lund, holding her hips and pulling her to me.
I stood up and led these two naked, gorgeous Musalmān women to the bed.
The contrast between them was amazing.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal was more slender, darker.
Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās was more rounded, her exquisite young Musalmān breasts and hips fuller but still wonderfully firm, both of them incredibly sexy.
Once by the bed, they both turned to me.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal kissed me.
Our kiss was soft and gentle to start with, growing quickly in passion as our tongues came into play.
We stopped kissing briefly as Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās pulled my shirt over my head.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal immediately leant down, kissing and biting me.
Her hand reached for my ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund through the thin material of my trousers, squeezing it.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal dropped to her knees in front of me, still looking up at me.
I sensed Al Waħīdah Al Ǻbbās kneeling down behind me.
Their hands pulled my trousers, dragging them and my underwear over my hips, down my thighs and off.
My Ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund sprung up, standing out rigid, pre cum dripping from the tip.
Al Rābiyah Al Faisal gasped as it pointed at her, her extremely lovely pink young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth automatically slipping over the tip, greedily sucking my Ever stout, ever miraculous, sixty-five years old, utmost experienced, unique, legendary, Uncut Hindu Lund head into her hungry extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl, 54,
Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39,
And Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl, 20,
All the three were my practical wives while I was already sixty then.
Actually Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl, 54, had me first.
Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl was her daughter in law actually.
And, Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl was her granddaughter.
Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39, her Bahū Bégam, actually blackmailed her mother in law, Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl, 54.
Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl, 54, was startled.
“What? You want to cheat my son, Aħmad Kamāl?”
Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39, smiled.
She didn’t say anything.
Only watched my legendary Uncut Hindu Penis vanishing into Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl, 54,’s still ravenous Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, significantly, sarcastically.
Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl was furious.
“Don’t watch it like a she hawk. You are entirely twenty one years younger than Durgesh.”
There was intense venom and scorn in her voice, for her Bahū Bégam.
She never thought she was also enjoying me out of wedlock.
If it was moral why it was immoral that her daughter in law was watching her enjoying sex with me and not even ashamed of her act.
Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl expected respect from her Bahū Bégam still now.
She expected her Bahū Bégam, Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39, must respect her, even now, as she was respectful to her until now.
She must have respected her privacy with me.
Even if she had seen it, she must have ignored it and made a respectful exit from there.
Instead, Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39, was trying to blackmail her, Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl?
Was Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl crazy?
Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl could not bear it any more.
She ordered her Bahū Bégam, Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39, ultimately.
“Go away. Don’t you have etiquette enough, not to watch your mother in law in her intimate moments with her man?”
“I never watched you, Ammī, with Abbū, Muħammad Kamāl.” Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl said obediently and respectfully perfectly.
“Well, I said, ‘with my man’, not with my impotent husband’.”*
There was no more splashing, no more hanging against the side of the yacht.
Then there was the noise of confusion as doors opened and closed.
There was the sound of tense voices, hurrying feet.
“Did you scream?” I asked the stunning Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty I was holding in my arms.
“I went there myself hearing it.” she smiled disarmingly, but there wasn’t anyone.”
“Then what about the scream we heard?”
“Your security persons were there. They were talking of a young woman who thought someone was behind her. She screamed. The security persons found no one when they searched the vicinity.”
She was still playing with my Uncut Hindu Penis.
“Sorry, I’ve to have firsthand information from my security itself.”
She smiled at me seductively.
“Oh, sure. I understand. Go ahead.”
“Won’t you care to introduce yourself, if you don’t mind?” I smiled seductively myself.*
The stunning Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty smiled.
“I’m Al Zohrah Al Bittol.”
“Glad to meet you.”
“Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl is my Kħālājān. Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl is my Kħālāzād sister, my cousin actually.”
“I have a vague remembrance that I’ve seen you with Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl.”
“Thank you for remembering me.” She kept smiling, “May I get the honor of sucking the great Durgesh’s unique legendary Uncut Hindu Penis?”
“You are already playing with it. Go ahead. It’s not actually that I’m honoring you. It’s my pleasure instead. I’m being honored. Thank you.”*
Al Zohrah Al Bittol laughed.
“I’m honored. Thank you. The pleasure is certainly mine. You have really broken all the conventions. The parents are arranging now to gift your unique legendary Uncut Hindu Penis to their beloved Just Eighteen Just Adult daughters on their eighteenth birthday. Isn’t it a miracle? The husbands are arranging now to gift your unique legendary Uncut Hindu Penis to their beloved wives on their Shab-e-Ůrūsī, their Golden Night even, on anniversaries and other memorable events too to make them more memorable.”
Al Zohrah Al Bittol unzipped me, brought my Uncut Hindu Prick out, kissed it respectfully, licked it and then swallowed entirely into her extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān mouth.
My security was in action still now.
The deck was flooded with illumination now.
Yet, it did not stop Al Zohrah Al Bittol from sucking my Uncut Hindu Prick.
Instead, she was sucking it now more excited.
Was she an exhibitionist?
I could not decide.
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl appeared there suddenly.
“Durgesh, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim was on board.”
“What?” I was all alert suddenly.
“The stunning Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty that’s sucking you now so indebted, so gratefully, is actually one of the present four wives of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim. Her name is Al Zohrah Al Bittol.”
I watched Al Zohrah Al Bittol gravely now.
“She has told me her name.”
Al Zohrah Al Bittol increased the speed of sucking my Uncut Hindu Penis.
“She can’t get away with it by only sucking your Uncut Hindu Penis.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl shouted, “Your new Musalmān girlfriend has killed her husband, do you knowwwwww?”*
Al Zohrah Al Bittol looked at me gravely.
“The Pseudo Musalmīn have framed me deliberately, Durgesh darling. Your so called innocent Al Muħammad Al Qāsim was actually helping them.”
“Shut up.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said coldly, “I know your story now. What the hell do you think? You stunning Musalmān Beauties, you stunning Musalmān houseladies, can get away with murders even, only because Durgesh loves to fuck you?”
Al Zohrah Al Bittol winked at her.
“You can’t arrest me, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl.”
“Why? Because you are sucking Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Penis?” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl asked her sarcastically.
“Because I had already anticipated it. I’ve taken anticipatory bail already.”
“I know.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl said curtly, “Why the hell are you here on the deck?”
“Tut tut tut. Warn me first, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl, that anything I may say may be used against me.”
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl looked at me angrily.
“She is already speaking your legal language. What the hell you do? As soon as they take your Uncut Hindu Penis in their hands and mouth they suddenly become unapproachable legally.”
“Give her your version of the events, Al Zohrah Al Bittol.”
Someone had thrown over a life preserver with a carbide canister attached.
A brilliant white light spread over the surface of the water.
It illuminated the life preserver, the water around the ship.
It threw against the heavy wall of fog a strange, distorted shadow of the ship running to the disputed island.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand and Muħammad bin Qāsim were representing Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company.
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim telephoned me. He was extremely excited.” Al Zohrah Al Bittol said, He said he needed his gun. He said it was on the top of the dresser. He requested me to bring the gun to him on the deck.”
“I see.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl smiled sarcastically patiently.
“Where the hell from was he telephoning to you?”
“He said he was telephoning from the bow of the ship.”
“How can I? All I know what he said to me.”
“You had recognized his voice?”
“He was my husband. Wasn’t he? Can’t I recognize even my own husband’s voice?” Al Zohrah Al Bittol asked ACP Suraiyā Jamāl bitterly.
“That’s what I am asking you myself.”
“She is already biased against me, Durgesh. Don’t you see?”
“Al Zohrah Al Bittol is right, Suraiyā .” I said gravely, “You are a police officer. Act properly. If Al Zohrah Al Bittol can prove you act biased against her, you can be prosecuted for misusing your powers. She is too a taxpayer. You have to protect her civilian rights too.”
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl looked at me sarcastically.
“Al Zohrah Al Bittol is a Kħālāzād cousin of Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, do you know?”*
I looked at ACP Suraiyā Jamāl.
“Suraiyā,” I said patiently, “How many times I have told you not to be prejudiced, even infinitesimally, against any one you suspect. You are not a judge, you are only a police officer. I’ve told you already, she has met me now. How can she tell me how many Kħālāzād, Māmūzād, Buāzād, Chachāzād etc. sisters she does have?”
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl grimaced.
“Be blind deliberately as much as the damn you want to be, only because she is extremely beautiful and she is fucking you now herself to protect herself. I’m not a man, thanks, thanks God, Allah. She can’t blind me.”
Al Zohrah Al Bittol laughed.
“She is jealous of me, Durgesh.”
ACP Suraiyā Jamāl smiled bitterly.
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim told you he was telephoning you from the bow of the ship?”
“He said it was a matter of life and death for him. I had to come fast with his revolver.” Al Zohrah Al Bittol said, fucking me savagely now.
Her bottom was moving up and down on my Uncut Hindu Penis, taking it into her Musalmān Cunt every time when it was down.
“What did you do when he asked you to do so?”
“I jumped out of bed, grabbed the gun and didn’t even wait to put a robe on.”
“So that you can fuck Durgesh sooner to win him on your side?”
“So that I can save him before it’s too late, if it was really a matter of life and death for him.” Al Zohrah Al Bittol said curtly.
“How nice of you.”
“That’s right.” Al Zohrah Al Bittol said tersely, “How nice of me! Why the hell are you questioning me if you are so prejudiced against me already?”
“Oh, it’s routine, Umm-Al-Åālmīn.” ACP Suraiyā Jamāl answered exaggerating her politeness ironically, “How lucky you are that you are extraordinary stunning. If you weren’t, you couldn’t have fucking Durgesh and I would have arrested you easily.”
“I sympathize with you, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl.”
Suddenly, ACP Suraiyā Jamāl’s cellular phone rang.
“Yes, SP Zubaydah Bābar, Have you got the fingerprints report? Okay. That’s fine. Nice job, so fast. Congrats. Tell me what did you find? Any of the receivers had Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s fingerprints?”*
I felt a feminine palm on my arm.
I looked at her.
My Uncut Hindu Penis was still visiting the triumphant Musalmān Cunt of Al Zohrah Al Bittol vigorously.
It was Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah.
She was dressed in pajamas and slippers, bundling a robe around her.
Yet, Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah wasn’t alone.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was also with her.
I watched both of them.
They were more understanding than the rest of them.
Moreover, they both knew it was not actually the disputed island only that we were on this yacht now.
It was actually the excuse only.
The Pseudo Musalmīn were trying to make even Ved Nagar hot for Imām Muħammad Ħasan.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had already ‘exiled’ him from Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.
She thought only Ved Nagar could protect her Abbū now from the ever crazy Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists, criminals and/or criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn.
“What happened?” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah asked.
“What do you know yourself? Tell me first.” I said gravely, “Then I’d tell you what I know, but you don’t.”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah looked at me, ignoring that I was entirely nude now on my back, Al Zohrah Al Bittol was nude too entirely, she was straddling me and fucking me wildly.
It was routine in Ved Nagar, and in my daily life too.
“I heard someone shout ‘Man Overboard’ and a splash.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said.
“Did you hear a shot?” I asked.
“I heard an explosion of some sort.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said, watching me prudently.
She could not believe it could happen on my ship, without any prior information to me.
What the hell was happening?
Was Durgesh himself playing a deep game to protect someone?
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim couldn’t be murdered in this way on Durgesh’s yacht.
Even an utmost foolish murderer would never do it, let it be any wife of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim himself.
She knew Al Muħammad Al Qāsim had especially consulted Durgesh about his utmost greedy relatives.
Was it Durgesh‘s strategy for Al Muħammad Al Qāsim to get rid of his ever greedy relatives?*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled cunningly.
“I knew you would advise him something like that.”
She was on her knees and I was fucking Al Safiyah Al Ghaus from her glorious behind.
I looked at her innocently.
“What the hell are you talking about, my extremely sexy Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān love?”
“Al Muħammad Al Qāsim was under constant surveillance of our Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband movement detectives.”
“And you think I didn’t know it?”
“If you knew it why all the strategy ab initio?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled at me incredulously.
“You and Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan were planning to declare Al Muħammad Al Qāsim legally incompetent to deal with his own money and assets. He has transferred all of them to his own legal heirs in his will already. He is dead now legally. You can’t get him declared incompetent now. He has gone underground.”
“I never knew you were so afraid of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and me.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus laughed triumphantly.
I smiled ironically.
“You call it fear, I call it precaution.”*
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs looked at his extremely beautiful wife, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, scornfully.
His brother, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim’s money had converted her into an utmost greedy bitch.
He had proposed her to get a divorce from him.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus had laughed at his proposal.
“You can’t get away from me, in this way, my dear husband.”
“I’m not your husband any more.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly to her, “Durgesh is your practical husband now.”
“Almost entire Musalmān Beauties, almost entire Musalmān houseladies, fuck Durgesh/other capable Hindus extra martially, because their ever incurable ever religious Musalmān husbands can’t satisfy them sexually…”
“Bosh and nonsense.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs cut her short, “It’s not sex only you Musalmān Beauties, you Musalmān houseladies , are after Durgesh/Hindus for.”
“You want to get rid of our terrorists, criminals and/or criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn image too. You want to get rid of our backward image too. You want to get rid of our rigid adamant anti human image too.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs charged his ever shrewd wife scornfully.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled ironically.
“And we should never do it?”
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs couldn’t answer this blunt question.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus laughed.
“Even if you are right, what’s wrong in it, if we Musalmān Beauties, we Musalmān houseladies, really do it? Shouldn’t we get rid of our backward image if we can get rid of it? Shouldn’t we get rid of our terrorists, criminals and/or criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn image too, if we can? Shouldn’t we get rid of our rigid adamant anti human image too, if we can? If you don’t want to get rid of these images, it’s alright with us. We are not compelling you to do it. Then why do you criticize us? Are we your slaves, not your Musalmān houseladies?”*
As soon as Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah said she had heard an ‘explosion of some sort’, I ordered,
“Rig up the searchlights.”
A man from the top of the pilothouse said,
“I’m getting it, sir.”
The canvas covers were ripped off the searchlights.
A moment later the arcs sputtered into brilliance.
The long shafts of light pushed themselves against the opalescent fog to be swallowed up in milky nothingness.
“Try the stern,” I said, “a little back of that life preserver.”
The searchlights swung out to play on the water around the flare that was attached to the life preserver.
A small boat splashed into the water.
There was the sound of oars and a boat rowed rapidly down the stream, then turned and came back against the current.
A man standing in the bow bent down, searching the water by the aid of a beam from a five cell hand flashlight.
“Let’s get everyone on deck. Find out if anyone’s missing as ACP Suraiyā Jamāl is claiming that Al Muħammad Al Qāsim is. Let’s confirm what’s actually happened.”
I turned at Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah.
“Have you seen anyone else?”
“A man standing in the stern. I take it he was one of the crew.”
“Yes.” Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah looked at Al Zohrah Al Bittol significantly, “A woman running down the deck, clad in her night clothes.”
“Do you know her?”
Fātimah Muħammad Åbdullah pointed at Al Zohrah Al Bittol.*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“I’m destroying the Musalmīn and the Musalmīn are so foolish that they are calling me Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated.”
“Because you are using your Seven Movements to advertise your extraordinary spiritual capabilities among Musalmīn.” I smiled at her niftily, still fucking Amīnah Zahīr.
“And Musalmīn don’t understand it?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan kept smiling.
“You are shrewd enough to understand the shortcomings of Musalmīn. Most of them are blindly superstitious, because they are Uneducated/Under Educated. The Uneducated/Under Educated Mullahs and Maulavīs oppose their modern education so that their followers may not abandon them. You are influencing the Mullahs and Maulavīs themselves.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan complaining.
“Bājī, I’ve myself seen you and your agents bribing these Mullahs and Maulavīs and other Musalmīn of influence.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched him curtly.
“The problem with Abbū Imām, Durgesh, you and other similar ideologists is, you always argue about means. You never see the practical impossibility of your ever Utopian suggestions.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled at me.
“Jījū, your utmost successful Practical Chief Wife is criticizing even you now.”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Well, what’s wrong in criticizing him if he is wrong? He never claimed to be Omniscient.”
I smiled merely.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan continued to say.
“He himself admits no one is Omniscient except Allah Rabbil Åālmīn. He knows so many things more than we do. He has experienced so many incidences than we have. Naturally he understands so many things more than we do, and more deeply too. But that’s all. That’s the limit of your Jījū too. Beyond that he too assesses everything. And his assessment may be wrong too as well as it may be right. Am I right, my love?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan looked at me.
“Right.” I smiled, “Sorry Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, I’m too a human being. Even my assessments may be wrong. I too don’t, and can’t, know everything.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled.
“The difference between Abbū Imām and Durgesh is that Abbū Imām is an ideologist only, while Durgesh is a Practical Ideologist. Abbū Imām can dream better but as he is far more behind than Durgesh in both knowledge and experiences, he doesn’t know how to make his dreams true optimum as Durgesh does.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand beamed at me with immense pride.
“But,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled unwearyingly, “similarly Durgesh isn’t a woman, is he?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand laughed.
“Jījū is the Absolute Man.”
“Yet, not a woman.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan repeated insistently.
“Therefore he can’t understand what we womankind need actually as optimum as I can.”
“Bājī,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand protested.
“There are so many things, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, that we womankind never tell even our life partners.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at me.
I was grave now.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled at Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.
“Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, you believe your Jījū more than you believe your Bājī, don’t you?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand watched her gravely.
“My morals are more identical with Jījū, Bājī. I never hide it from anyone.”
“You, your Jījū, Abbū Imām, you all never try to understand how to get Pseudo Musalmīn votes. The Pseudo Musalmīn are actually the most confused persons in the Multiverse.”
“I see.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand said gravely.
“The Pseudo Musalmīn are actually always the pendulums between True Islam and Pseudo Islam.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr interrupted.
“The police has told me that it isn’t established beyond doubt that the victim of the murderer is Colonel Åbdul Raħmān.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled ironically.
“The police is playing a deep game so that Ved Nagar can’t be held politically responsible for the murder of one of my Commandos. It’s only a razzle dazzle. Both the nations India and Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat do understand they don’t want to antagonize Ved Nagar. They can’t afford it.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr laughed.
“Ved Nagar can do anything?”
“Almost anything.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled triumphantly.
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr looked at Amīnah Zahīr.
“I’m unable to understand, my lady, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat is smiling triumphantly however her reliable commando is murdered. The police say they can’t establish beyond doubt that the body is really that of Colonel Åbdul Raħmān. She has deputed Colonel Åbdul Raħmān on some secret mission and Ved Nagar administration itself has helped her, Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat actually.”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr, you are promoted to be the leader of Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūn. Congratulations. You really understand what we do more efficiently than the rest of you.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr bowed half to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, respectfully.
“Shukriyah, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated.”
Amīnah Zahīr smiled.
“Bājī, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated, I own a ranch in Nevada as well as I own a ranch here at Ved Nagar too, both with Durgesh, of course, as you yourself own each and every property you have, with Durgesh, yourself, everywhere, even in Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat. It’s rather a large holding. Durgesh likes it. I like to live there with Durgesh. Durgesh loves Musalmān Beauties, Musalmān houseladies especially. There’s a guest ranch, a so called dude ranch, adjoining our property in Nevada. I find some of the guests women who stay there are rather interesting. It’s unfortunate that they find Durgesh more interesting rather than me.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed sensitively.
Amīnah Zahīr only kept smiling respectfully.
“As you can well judge yourself, Bājī, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Everfirst President of Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, many of these guest Musalmān Beauties, Musalmān houseladies, are not there simply because they like the idea of recreation on a guest ranch in Nevada. They are there because they want to establish a six weeks’ residence in order to get a divorce.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand watched his wife, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim gravely.*
Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim winked at her husband impishly.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand averted his eyes hastily to look at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, me and Muħammad bin Qāsim whether anyone of us has noticed it.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was not backward, yet he was relatively more sophisticated than his ever impish ever naughty wife, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand respected Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and me both more.
Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, instead, always teased both of us.
She was my Sālī after all, my sister in law.
Amīnah Zahīr joined Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan this time in smiling cunningly as well.
“I am frank to admit that most of those Musalmān Beauties, those Musalmān houseladies, take interest in Durgesh usually, naturally.”
“Naturally?” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim nudged me.
“Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim!” I admonished her.
“Sure,” Amīnah Zahīr said, “yet we can’t blame them. They are there for divorce. It’s obvious they are separated from their husbands already. Consequently, missing sex and a loving masculine attention already for a relatively long time. When they find even Durgesh is available to them, well, they start to enjoy sex with Durgesh sooner or later.”
“Every one of them?” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim teased us impishly.
“Almost every one of them.” Amīnah Zahīr smiled sophisticatedly, “Usually, I mean, of course.”
“Of course.” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim’s impish eyes twinkled conspicuously.
Amīnah Zahīr winked at Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim and continued.
“The women who sever their domestic ties go to a state where they have no friends. They find themselves, usually for the first time in years, entirely on their own. They are apt to be lonesome, naturally. Consequently, apt to be seeking companionship too with as powerful a man as they can get. I happen to have a ranch that is accessible. Durgesh happens to be available as an utmost caring, utmost lovable, utmost loyal, utmost reliable, masculine friend. Why the hell they don’t take the advantage of the opportunity?”
“I agree with you, Amīnah Zahīr.” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim smiled cunningly.*
Amīnah Zahīr smiled.
“I had always lived on my ranch and enjoyed it until Al Samīnah Al Qāsim came to Nevada, to establish a residence on this adjoining dude ranch. She liked Durgesh and enjoyed more sex with Durgesh than she had enjoyed with even Abbū Imām, her husband. Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was a very determined and a very resourceful woman. She had a very definite plan of operation. We became very good friends gradually. Yet, I had long been for the right sort of investment here in Ved Nagar. Who doesn’t now, if s/he is capable? My real estate broker found this place. It was offered at what I considered a bargain as price go these days. I talked with Durgesh. Durgesh approved my decision. I told my dealer to close the deal without letting the owners even suspect that Durgesh was too involved anywhere. It would have caused the price to go to the sky. The deal was closed very quietly keeping the news as far as possible out of media.
“When our dealer had the property all in escrow, I simply slipped from my ranch in Nevada. Durgesh told Al Samīnah Al Qāsim that I had been called away very suddenly on business that would keep me out of state for some time. I would get in touch with Al Samīnah Al Qāsim as an opportunity presented itself. In the meantime I was working on a deal that was so confidential I couldn’t take any chance of having any slip.
“Durgesh and I jumped in our own private plane and flew to Denver. We had to stop for a few hours at our Denver branch office of HVSI Group of Companies, then flew for Ved Nagar. We picked up a new automobile that had been ready for delivery to our order, and came here to this place.
“I was very careful not to let Al Samīnah Al Qāsim know where I was. Durgesh was already available to her in his another body. Why the hell she had to pay any attention to what the damn I was doing? When Durgesh is available himself, the all a Musalmān Beauty, the all a Musalmān houselady is interested ever is undress Durgesh completely, undress herself completely, and enjoy sex with Durgesh as much as she can.”
Amīnah Zahīr was smiling cunningly now.
It was not easy for Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand to believe a Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Beauty could be that cunning.
His Bājī, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was really transforming the Musalmān Beauties, the Musalmān houseladies, miraculously.
Actually, his Bājī, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was herself a miracle after the greater miracle, Durgesh.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī was following Durgesh step by step very adroitly.
Moreover, she knew very well, very meticulously, where to deviate from Durgesh to transform Musalmān Beauties and extraordinary beautiful Musalmān houseladies to use them optimum for establishing her dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
It was a miracle the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists, criminals/criminal minded Musalmīn were being cuckolded fastest under her Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband movement.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī knew very well how to deal with the bastards.
Now, almost the entire global media even is acknowledging her ever great achievements.
It’s being written and discussed now surreptitiously that the Seven Movements of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had effectively decreased the terrorist and criminal activities of Pseudo Musalmīn, even though the movements are in themselves not as humane as they should have been.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has laughed.
“Humanity with the animals who never respect any human life except that of Pseudo Musalmīn? Never. I’ll cuckold every one of them, bastards. I’m not Durgesh. They are enjoying Durgesh’s so called humanity on the cost of innocent persons’ very life. I’m Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. I have my own definition of humanity. Cuckold the bastards who never respect human life if it’s not a Pseudo Musalmān.” *
Amīnah Zahīr was grave now.
“The information that Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was in Ved Nagar comes out as a distinct surprise to me. She did not come here, however, last night or any other time to have the gasoline tank of her automobile filled. I haven’t seen her since I left Nevada. She is a very lovable woman, however. I happen to know that, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim, however, had a deep seated fear of her husband, Abbū Imām. She was planning something. I don’t know exactly what it was but I do know that Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was very much afraid of what her husband, Abbū Imām, would do when Al Samīnah Al Qāsim started to put her plan into execution.
“There are some things, however, I won’t like to say here in the presence of witnesses. But Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was talking of a picture, Abbū Imām and Durgesh’s yacht.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was suddenly all alert now.
“How do you know Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was talking of Durgesh Jījū’s yacht? I think it was another yacht that belongs to Muħammad Ůsmān and Muħammad bin Qāsim. My wife, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, knows about it more, I think.”*
Out on deck, on my ‘yacht’, I found the fog had thickened until it was impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.
The ship was facing upstream now.
Standing up there, I could hear the sullen gurgle of cold water as the current swirled around the anchor chain.
Confidently, thoughtfully, I moved aft, reached the stem of the vessel.
I saw a member of the crew.
He appeared to me to be so.
I didn’t know him personally.
Neither it was possible for me to know everyone personally who was in my staff.
I had a large staff even on this ship.
He was bundled up in a heavy mackinaw.
Standing motionless, I thought he must have been a night watchman.
If my assumption was correct he hadn’t to care anything for the guests.
He had only to wait simply the night out, standing there as still as a statue.
I walked back again toward I came from.
Suddenly, I stumbled over a piece of rope.
I couldn’t kick it to one side.
It must not be there.
Hell, the security must be instructed to find out and inform me why it was there.
The security in charge regretted the incidence and promised me to find out immediately.
I walked back to a position amidships on the starboard side.
I stood there for some ten minutes lost in thought.
I was aroused suddenly.
It was a sudden stabbing sound of a woman’s shrill scream, from the vicinity of the bow.
A sharp report followed almost instantly by a peculiar series of muffled splashes.
I looked to the stem.
The man who had been on duty as watchman was no longer there.
It was possible he had run to the bow, keeping to the port side.
Was he really a watchman?
Now I doubted even it.
I turned to dash back toward the bow.
I heard the soft patter of hurrying feet and then, almost without warning, a figure, walking confidently down the deck, collided with me.
I felt the soft touch of damp silk.
My nostrils caught the faint scent of perfume.
I realized the woman I was holding in my arms was stunning, confident and definitely not in panic, even infinitesimally.*
My first assessment was that she was the woman who screamed.
She was the woman the soft patter of whose hurrying feet I had heard.
But the stunning Beauty I was holding in my arms was neither hurrying, nor she was in any condition so that I could say she was the woman who screamed.
It was a sudden stabbing sound of a woman’s shrill scream, from the vicinity of the bow.
I couldn’t forget it.
I could feel the pumping of her heart, the tension of her muscles.
Her hand moved and inadvertently it touched my ever sensitive rising Uncut Hindu Penis.
Yet I was suddenly all alert.
I had caught the glint of faintly reflected light from some metallic object.
I realized immediately she was carrying a gun.
From up near the bow I was expecting the cry that was so ominous to seamen the world over.
‘Man overboard. MAN OVERRR-BOARD!!’
But no, it wasn’t there.
Nevertheless, from the sea, there came a series of thumping noises against the side of the ship.
It seemed that some struggling kicking object was swept past by the current on the side of the ship opposite to that where I was standing.*
There followed an instant of silence.
The extremely stunning Beauty in my arms had deliberately grabbed my Uncut Hindu Penis now.
She was even playing with it now, even more confidently than she came into my arms colliding with me.
It was my ship.
I owned it.
But I didn’t know who this dazzling Beauty was.
She was anywhere around twenty eight.
The most she could be, thirty, not more.
Her build, body and behavior was telling me that she herself was too a Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty.
Her frankness was telling me, she belonged to one of the ever notorious Seven Movements of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
I didn’t know why I had a feeling now that I had seen her with Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl.
She resembled Åābidah Ibrār Ålvī very much.
Yet, I could not place her still now.
Then I suddenly placed her.
I hadn’t seen her with Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl.
I had seen her with Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl instead.
She was present when I kicked Muħammad Kamāl and Aħmad Kamāl both out of their own house, claiming that Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl, 54, Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39, and Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl, 20, were, all the three, my wives now.
She was standing there enjoying the incidence very much.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Sun sparkled from the crested tops of restless waves.
I paced the deck, enjoying fresh air and the mild sunlight through clouds.
My hands were thrust deep in the pockets of a double breasted coat.
My rubber soled shoes trod lightly along the teakwood deck.
The cold breeze tried to ruffle my ever black hair unsuccessfully.
The heavy door from the forward social hall was pushed open one inch or two.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan shouldered it open.
She stood there with wind whipped skirts.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim stepped across the high threshold.
Both of them released the door.
The wind pushed it against the automatic door check.
I walked behind both of them.
“Ship Ahoy!” I called.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Samīnah Al Qāsim, both turned to me.
“The other side is less windy.” I smiled at both of them.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan nodded.
The cold wind was blowing the tendrils of hair across her extremely beautiful Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān face.
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan introduced us, “this is Durgesh, my husband, and the Hindu husband of us entire extremely striking Musalmān Beauties, if you don’t mind my bluntness.”
“Naåīmah,” I admonished Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan somewhat curtly, “behave yourself, you stupid.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim smiled at me.
“It’s alright. I never mind. Most of us extremely attractive Musalmān Beauties, rather, never mind your titles related to us, actually. We think they are in fact compliments to us Musalmān Beauties instead.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me.
“Now, come on. You Hindu scoundrel, the ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties, we both are starving to death.”
“Let’s go, my extremely stunning Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān wives.”
With an extremely attractive Musalmān Beauty on each of my Hindu male arm, I started forward along the deck.
They were playing with my Uncut Hindu Penis impishly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had unzipped me and had brought it out.
With every female treatment of both the extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauties my Uncut Hindu Penis was extending and growing in their fists violently.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was playing with it rather shyly somewhat, but Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was not ashamed of it even a bit.
Rounding the bow, the wind pushed us down the sloping incline, into the lee of the deck.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim put her hair back into place, laughed, and said,
“That’s what’s known as wind blown job. I’ve been hearing a lot about you, Durgesh.”
“Most of my extremely beautiful Musalmān women friends are already enjoying your Hindu sex kicks.”
“They say you’re unique in love and lovemaking both.”
“Tell them my numerous thanks.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim faced me with laughing, dark eyes, full red lips, parted to reveal teeth that glinted as whitecaps in the sun.
The silk blouse, open at the neck, disclosed the sweep of her tremendously lovely Musalmān throat, the rounded curve of her firm breasts.
“Durgesh darling, I saw you and my Ammī fucking and talking last night. I bet Ammī told you all about the family mystery.”*
I looked at Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
“Sure. Don’t try to act innocent.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan flashed me a quick glance,
“What’s the family mystery, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?”
“The disappearance of my portrait. Ammī packed my autographed picture in Abbū’s bag. She locked the bag carefully. When they unpacked, my picture was gone from the frame. Someone had inserted one of Zāherah Ħusayn instead, the Pakistani Musalmān heroine that worked in Indian movies too. I resemble her to the extent as if we both are twin sisters. Now, what do you know about that?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan glanced reproachfully at me.
“I know nothing about it. What does your Ammī think about it? If she has talked with Durgesh about it, we can…”
“That’s the point. Ammī is making it darkly mysterious. Well, don’t deprive her of her thrill. If Ammī tells you about it, act as if you didn’t know anything before Ammī told you it.”
“You are sure Durgesh and your Ammī were fucking when they were talking?”
“I watched them myself.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim said curtly, “My Ammī was on her knees and our Durgesh darling was fucking her from her glorious behind. You say Durgesh is thirty four, why the hell then he is interested in my Ammī more than me?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me furiously.
“He loves big heavy female Musalmān buttocks filling his nude Hindu male lap when he fucks us, damn it.”
“She does not take it seriously.” I smiled.
“Me?” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim squeezed my Uncut Hindu Penis more, to make me suffer from pain somewhat.
She raised her chin and laughed into my face.
“My parents think I never take anything seriously—life, liberty, or the pursuit of love. I’m the flippant younger generation. Hell, they never suspect it’s my act only. I’m immensely serious about everything.”
“And how about your Abbū, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim? How does he take it?”*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
She squeezed my Uncut Hindu Penis significantly.
Despite her tremendous efforts to act as if my Uncut Hindu Penis was not the first she was playing with, her inherent shyness and enormously hidden nervousness were constantly telling me I was the ever first man in her life she was enjoying even the foreplay with.
I looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan disapprovingly.
Why the hell Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan doesn’t understand?
Her Seven Movements had upset the normal life of almost everyone, almost entire humankind.
“Oh, Abbū takes it right in his stride.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim said, “He is a Thinker, carries the Multiverse on his shoulders. Despite the fact that you are the ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties, Abbū thinks you are Imām Ħazrat Mahdi ålayhissalām .”
“Well,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said innocently, “I think…”
“You don’t think, you never think.” I said coldly, “You just fix a target and conspire to achieve it.”
“My dear ever best ever greatest fucker of us extremely lovely Musalmān Beauties,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly, “it takes a deep thinking even to conspire.”
“Shame on you.”
“Let it be. I damn care.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan winked at me, entirely unashamed of herself, “You mankind think every shame is for us womankind only. I refuse to obey your ever selfish decisions. Why the hell should we womankind obey you mankind? After all we womankind are infinitely more in numbers than you mankind are. In Democracy…”
“Oh shut up,” I said, “I’m fed up of your communal philosophies. You think every Musalmān male is a terrorist or a potential terrorist at least. But the Musalmān Beauties are neither. Every Hindu male is a born democrat, and…”
“Prove me wrong.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan challenged me.*
I smiled curtly.
“As if I haven’t already every now and then.”
“Never.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said shamelessly, “You have only argued every time.”
I squeezed her buttocks.
“Sālī, ‘Ūnŧh ré ūnŧh, térī kaun sī kal sīdhī’?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan pushed my Uncut Hindu Prick into Al Samīnah Al Qāsim’s heretofore virgin mouth.
I felt embarrassed.
But to my surprise, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim kissed it lovingly, licked it and then started to suck it ravenously.
“I’ll be damned.” I murmured to myself.
“Enjoying it?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan asked Al Samīnah Al Qāsim impishly.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim nodded, brought my Uncut Hindu Prick out of her mouth and said.
“My Ammī was not the first I saw Durgesh fucking.”
“Allah Allah! I never thought you were so veteran a voyeur.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
“A virgin is a voyeur mostly.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her step Ammī cunningly.
“Ammījān, I think you are right. I was also a veteran voyeur until I seduced Durgesh.”
Both of them laughed.
“You were telling me about your Abbū.” I reminded Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim smiled.
“Only occasionally can I get Abbū to set it down long enough to play with me.”
I squeezed her breasts.
“Sālī, that doesn’t answer my question.”
“You can’t call me Sālī, your sister in law. I’m your Ammī in law, your mother in law instead. Don’t forget Imām Muħammad Ħasan is still my husband.”
“Ex-husband.” I reminded Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
I watched her dubiously.
Was she still married to Imām Muħammad Ħasan?
And Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is guiding and patronizing her?
But how the hell could it be?
Imām Muħammad Ħasan still has four duly legal Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives.
Yes, he doesn’t touch them anymore.
I fuck all of them instead.
But they are still his wives legally.
Is Al Samīnah Al Qāsim playing some deep game with Imām Muħammad Ħasan?
If Al Samīnah Al Qāsim hasn’t divorced Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim is his fifth legal duly married wife.
Does Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan know it?
Has she planned deliberately to exile Imām Muħammad Ħasan from Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat to protect him from Al Samīnah Al Qāsim?
I was more vigilant now of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Samīnah Al Qāsim both.*
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr smiled patronizingly.
“Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was a commando. Wasn’t he?”
“What the hell do you mean?” Muħammad bin Qāsim grimaced, “Commandos can’t be murdered?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, and even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled sophisticatedly, yet patronizingly at Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.
“I suppose,” Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr said, “all this is just a conversational background, a barrage, a bombardment, of words. They are trying to get us to commit ourselves. Umm-al-Åālmīn, I’m quite certain either Umm-al-Åālmīn Al Samīnah Al Qāsim is playing some deeper game, or Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Umm-al-Åālmīn, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself has planned it. Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was her commando. It wasn’t easy to murder him.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, and even Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled again.
“I’m not Allah Rabbil Åālmīn, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Yet you are Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā herself reincarnated. Aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled, “nevertheless, not Allah Rabbil Åālmīn.”
Muħammad bin Qāsim laughed.
“Her worst critics claim Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is following her Hindu Live in relationship partner’s every step. What Durgesh Jījū has done Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī would also do action by action. You can’t win her, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.”*
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was now on her knees.
My Uncut Hindu Penis was visiting her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt now.
“Once a barrister always a barrister. Are you cross examining me now, my Hindu Love?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was smiling watching my still growing Uncut Hindu Cock penetrating the glorious glamorous Musalmān Cunt of Al Samīnah Al Qāsim.
Despite my constant efforts to avoid them, Jet Musalmān Beauties were still constantly succeeding in winning my Uncut Hindu Penis for their ever aggressive ever feminist Musalmān Cunts.
It was necessary.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was vowed to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
It was the only solution to stop the kidnapping, smuggling and selling of Musalmān Beauties.
Only Hindu husbands/Live in relationship Partners could be trusted.
Saiyadah Fātimah PhD and Kħadījah Muħammad both wanted to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Yet, none of them could have the courage enough to say it openly.
Not only Musalmīn, even Durgesh was against it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan used it to win Saiyadah Fātimah PhD and Kħadījah Muħammad both despite my opposition.
She made it a movement.
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim,” I pulled my Uncut Hindu Penis out of her glorious Musalmān Cunt until only its head remained inside, “what does your father, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, say about it? What are your own theories incidentally?”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim shook her head.
She waited a few minutes for me to push my Uncut Hindu Cock back into her ravenous Musalmān Cunt, but when she saw I was concentrating somewhere else instead of on fucking her optimum, she felt her extraordinary Musalmān beauty insulted.
“Hey, where the hell are you concentrating? Give me that back.”
“Your legendary Uncut Hindu Lund. Push it back into me. Will you?”
“You must be. I would never forgive you if you ever do it again. Once out, I want it into me back, immediately. Do you understand?”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Does he do it with you too?” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim asked Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and answered my question as well, “I don’t have theories. I’m too young. Moreover, I’m a practical woman rather. I never dream of anything. I march ahead instead, and get it practically, as I’m going to do now.”
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim pushed her own gorgeous glorious Saåūdī Årab Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān buttocks back into my nude Hindu male lap and swallowed my entire Uncut Hindu Prick into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt deepest, “I love it deepest, my dear.”
“Abbū Imām liked your aggressive sex?” I smiled fucking her somewhat more vigorously now.
“Never. He is too a damn fool Musalmān.”
“Al Samīnah Al Qāsim Ammī.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan protested disapprovingly.
Al Samīnah Al Qāsim laughed.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, my dear immensely successful daughter. I’m with you, because you are running your Seven Movements, you have vowed taking Al Qur’an Al Karim in your pious hand to establish Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah. That’s what these damn fool Musalmīn need. Replace them with Hindus for ever and forget the bastards.”
“You ever communal bitches,” I said curtly, “always thinking with your ever ravenous Musalmān Cunts instead of with your brains.”
“No Musalmān bastard is here to appreciate you.” Al Samīnah Al Qāsim too smiled curtly, “I know you adopt this attitude to please your Musalmān fathers in law and your Musalmān brothers in law. They don’t have any power now. They are cuckolded to you and us, their Musalmān houseladies.”
“You are helping their enemies. Have you ever thought of it?”
“Qāzī jī dublé kyon? Shahar kā andéshah. Why the hell you always think of others, instead of yourself and us? Enjoy our extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān bodies, you stupid.”*
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.
“You have a telephone over there in the corner. Just ring the Ved Nagar police and ask them if a Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was murdered at an early hour this morning.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr promptly crossed over to the telephone, smiled sharply and said,
“That’s a very nice bluff you’re running. We won’t let it work however. I’m going to call you cold right now. Whenever someone makes a pass at me I call him/her then and there ineludibly.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr picked up the receiver.
“I want the police station, please,”
Then, after a moment, he said,
“Can you kindly tell me whether a Colonel Åbdul Raħmān was murdered this morning somewhere near Oceanside, Ved Nagar?… Never mind who this is. I’m simply asking a question…Well, let’s put it this way. I might be a witness in case there’s anything to it…”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr held the receiver in silence for several seconds.
Amīnah Zahīr was enjoying my Uncut Hindu Prick into her teen Musalmān Cunt in the meantime, smiling smartly.
She was herself fucking me now.
I stood still there on my knees behind Amīnah Zahīr.
Entirely nude Amīnah Zahīr was herself making the back forth and again back movements ruthlessly.
When it came out to sex, Amīnah Zahīr was almost an female animal with me.
It was rare I fucked her.
Mostly Amīnah Zahīr fucked me herself.
And that even almost most savagely usually.
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr suddenly said in the mouthpiece,
Then he slammed the receiver back into place.
He turned and faced his audience.
Then he started pacing the floor.
His eyes were half slit in thoughts.
He pushed his hands down deep in the side pockets of his double breasted coat.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand and Muħammad bin Qāsim were watching him patiently, yet with a smirk.
Abruptly, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr turned, standing with his back to the wall.
“All right,” he said, “I’m security in charge here. Ms. Amīnah Zahīr is not a nobody. She virtually owns our Kħilāfat Movement. She is one of the most important sponsors to our cause.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled contemptuously.
“Oh sure, I happen to know all of your bloody movement. What’s it? You are fighting for establishing a Triple Society, a Threesome Society actually. Musalmān wife, Hindu lover and thoroughly Cuckold Musalmān husband. Shame on you. You call it a Kħilāfat Movement? I’m surprised. Ms. Amīnah Zahīr is one of your most important sponsors, not because she and the other similar sponsors are sympathetic to you. They want you cuckolded. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī is running Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Movement. Your Triple Society is helping her cause. Jījū is against it because Jījū is against the humiliation of any human being whosoever the hell s/he is. Why the hell don’t you understand? Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is revenging what you Pseudo Musalmīn have done with Musalmān womankind. That’s why her own Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, is against her Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah despite his exile from Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr raised his right hand.
“I know you want to argue against our Kħilāfat Movement and even Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah as well. Imām Muħammad Ħasan has invited us to a Grand Meeting on the ‘Yacht’ of your Jījū. We have accepted the invitation. It’s not the proper place to discuss these utmost important political crises.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at me helplessly.
“Your Bājī Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is destroying the Musalmīn completely, either under this disguise or that. She is taking advantage of each and every superstition of Pseudo Musalmīn. I’d told you, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, already.”*
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Just Eighteen Just Adult
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was really looking forward to this weekend away with me.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I sat side by side on the plane heading for Spain, Waħīdah Ǻbbās closed her eyes and thought back to how it had all come about.
Allah, how difficult it was to seduce Durgesh, Waħīdah Ǻbbās thought.
And the bastards, Musalmīn, claim Durgesh is a Hindu communal sex maniac.
Durgesh fucks every Musalmān Beauty he meets ever.
Bosh and nonsense.
If the ever communal bastard Musalmīn were true in their ever false ever communal claim, why the hell so many Musalmān Beauties were still dreaming and suffering to have Durgesh as their lover/ live in relationship partner?
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was Just Eighteen Just Adult, and liked to think that she was independent.
She was just coming to the end of her first year at University.
For the last couple of years, Waħīdah Ǻbbās had chosen not to go away on the annual family holiday with her younger sister and her parents.
The previous summer, the rest of the family had gone to Spain, and had spent the day in Barcelona, a city Waħīdah Ǻbbās had always wanted to visit.
When we got back, Waħīdah Ǻbbās was quite jealous of us for having been there, and on the spur of the moment, Durgesh had promised to take her there for a long weekend.
For various reasons, the long weekend had never happened – until now.
About a month ago, the topic of the trip had come up again.
Durgesh was due a few days off, and so – without telling Waħīdah Ǻbbās – he had stumbled about on the internet, and booked them some flights and two rooms at a decent looking hotel.
It had all seemed to work out okay, and she was actually quite proud of me for having booked the holiday that way.
I could barely contain myself when I surprised Waħīdah Ǻbbās with the tickets a few days later.
The excitement had built over the next few weeks as Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I had both looked forward to the trip.
The two of us had always got on well, and Waħīdah Ǻbbās actually got on better with me than she did with her Ammī, particularly in the last couple of years since she had got over those difficult, early teenage years.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I had caught the early flight to Barcelona on the Friday morning, and had until our flight back, late on Sunday afternoon, to enjoy ourselves.
I smiled at Waħīdah Ǻbbās as I caught her looking across at me.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I laughed, for no other reason than Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I were happy to be getting away for a few days, able to spend some time together.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās shut her eyes and relaxed, thinking about me.
Despite the ever communal ever unjustified in their Hindu hating dastardly claims of the Pseudo Musalmīn, Waħīdah Ǻbbās found me never communal, never Musalmān hating.
I was okay, she thought to herself.
Generous, a good laugh, kind.
And extremely good looking too, Waħīdah Ǻbbās concluded.
Actually, she thought, I was outstandingly handsome, in every kind of way.
Moreover, she knew that almost everyone of her friends fancied me like mad even at my sixty-four.
Was I really sixty-four?
No one believed it ever.
Except perhaps her Nānājān, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, and Durgesh himself.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās laughed to herself at the thought, preferring men her own age, but understanding the attraction of someone older.
Nowadays, it was a surprising trend for Waħīdah Ǻbbās that Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Beauties were mostly interested in senior Hindu males, instead of those of their own age.
In Ved Nagar, it was almost a miracle now if a Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Beauty dreams of a Musalmān or a Hindu male of her own age.
“Teenagers are immensely inexperienced.” one of her closest friends, Ǻāliyah Kāmrān, said scornfully, “They are as afraid of taking our cherry as we ourselves are. The bastards, always seeking safe girls who have already lost their cherry either to their fathers or brothers.”*
Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl looked at Ǻāliyah Kāmrān immensely horrified.
“To their fathers or brothers, Ǻāliyah Kāmrān?”
There was a strong disbelief in Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl’s voice.
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān laughed at Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl.
“I hate you.” Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl shouted at Ǻāliyah Kāmrān protesting strongly.
“Nevertheless, you are a chicken still now even at your Just Eighteen Just Adult. Stupid girl.”
“Shut up. Keep your filthy mouth shut. You dirty bitch.” Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl thundered at her.
Some of their friends were watching them quarrel, with interest, but most of them were laughing at Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl.
Yes, some of them were neither laughing at Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl nor watching them interested in their futile quarrel, but even they were smiling at Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl with quite an immense smirk on their lips.
“Chicken,” Ǻāliyah Kāmrān laughed at Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl mockingly, “the world is not as moral as you childishly think. Most of the fathers fuck their own daughters and most of the brothers fuck their own sisters until they are not married to their foolish husbands.”
Farħānah Salāħuddīn laughed.
“Not only that,” she confirmed Ǻāliyah Kāmrān, “there are so many Ammīs even who are cougars to the extent that they have their sexual relationship with their own son.”
“You are dirty girls.” Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl said scornfully, “I hate all of you.”*
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān teased Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl not to humiliate her, to teach her instead the cold and hard things of life.
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān wasn’t as lucky as Al Rashīdah Al Jamīl was.
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān had had to face grim realities of life, consequently, even while she was Just Eighteen Just Adult only.
The kitten’s eyes, waving back and forth, followed the ball of crumpled paper.
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān was waving it high above the arm of the chair.
The kitten was named Green Eyes because of the color of her eyes.
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān liked to watch her eyes.
Their pupils were always changing, narrowing to ominous slits and widening to opaque pools of onyx.
Those black and green eyes had an hypnotic effect on Ǻāliyah Kāmrān, as Durgesh himself had on almost entire womankind.
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān disagreed.
There isn’t any exception, as far as Ǻāliyah Kāmrān knew.
Ǻāliyah Kāmrān’s own elder sisters hated Durgesh once.
They deliberately, stubbornly, married eligible Ǻrab Royal Sheikħs.
Their age difference even didn’t matter at all.
Ultimately, her Māmūjān, Muħammad Yūsuf, was proven to be exactly correct.
Eventually, everyone of her elder sister seduced Durgesh herself.
And now, they are having their actual live in relationship with Durgesh while still married to their royal Ǻrab Sheikħ husbands.
Their royal Ǻrab Sheikħ husbands tried to object on it.
Durgesh immediately transferred his numerous stocks of shares in the oil companies in the name of their wives.
Their royal Ǻrab Sheikħ husbands suddenly found their wives actually controlled now their oil wells even.
Their objections died out eventually after a long futile struggle.
The royal Ǻrab Sheikħ husbands surrendered to their richer wives for their own financial survival.
It was their bad luck that Saůūdī Årab was not Saůūdī Årab anymore.
She was Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat now.
Modern Democratic Årabia.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was its ever first President.
Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat.*
However, it was not exactly as Ǻāliyah Kāmrān thought it was.
Her eldest sister, Kħālidah Kāmrān managed it somewhat differently.
Her Ammī, Kāzimah Yåqūb and I left work early at five o’clock because she wanted extra time to get ready for the Halloween party our friends were throwing tonight.
Kāzimah Yåqūb and I worked together at my office.
I was an utmost successful Sex therapist in the suburbs and Kāzimah Yåqūb was my Colleague lady Sex therapist.
I met Kāzimah Yåqūb just after her second year of medical school to become a Lady Sex therapist.
Kāzimah Yåqūb was 18 at the time.
Shortly after we met, Kāzimah Yåqūb got pregnant from me.
Kāzimah Yåqūb wanted to manage her live in relationship with me, but Kāmrān Hāshimī proposed her surprisingly.
“Why not oblige me, Kāzimah Yåqūb?”
“What do you mean?” Kāzimah Yåqūb could not understand.
“I’m a bisexual, Kāzimah.”
“What? How the hell you know it?” Kāmrān Hāshimī was dumbfounded.
“Nāzimah Raħmān told me.”
“Allah! Is she telling everyone that I am a bisexual?”
“Not bisexual, worse. She is telling everyone that you are impotent, not capable to satisfy any woman. You exploded as soon as you entered Nāzimah Raħmān. Nāzimah Raħmān had to go to Durgesh to extinguish the fire you incompetently set between her legs.”
“Durgesh? She went to Durgesh? But she loves Shankar Mahāpralayankar.” Kāmrān Hāshimī was horrified.
“Nāzimah Raħmān doesn’t love Shankar Mahāpralayankar. Shankar Mahāpralayankar loves Nāzimah Raħmān. Nāzimah Raħmān hates Shankar Mahāpralayankar. He is a Criminal.”
“But… but Shankar Mahāpralayankar said…”
“Nāzimah Raħmān isn’t responsible for what Shankar Mahāpralayankar claims. Only Durgesh could save Nāzimah Raħmān from Shankar Mahāpralayankar. Nāzimah Raħmān hadn’t another option. Shankar Mahāpralayankar fucks even the royal Ǻrab Sheikħs in their asses.”
“Shankar Mahāpralayankar is more powerful than the royal Ǻrab Sheikħs even. The royal Ǻrab Sheikħs can’t protect themselves from his criminal powers.”
“As they sowed so they’re reaping.” Kāzimah Yåqūb said curtly, “The royal Ǻrab Sheikħs created Shankar Mahāpralayankar against Musalmān terrorists to protect their kingdom. They succeeded in protecting their royal kingdom from Musalmān terrorists, but not from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. They thought Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan couldn’t do anything. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan slapped them, rather kicked them actually with her far stronger feet than the royal Ǻrab Sheikħs thought Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had. As they sowed so they reaped. What’s wrong in it?”*
I looked at Waħīdah Ǻbbās, as she sat, totally relaxed, her eyes closed.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was quite beautiful, just like her Ammī at that age.
She had had her red hair cut for our break, but it still hung around her shoulders, framing her awfully stunning Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face.
She really was quite lovely, with her big brown eyes, full lips and pert nose.
Like many girls of her age, Waħīdah Ǻbbās was wearing a tight sleeveless top, with the narrowest of straps, which clung to her body, curving softly around her full Musalmān breasts.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās’s tanned midriff was bare, the gold cross in her pierced belly button glinting softly.
Her skirt was – according to her Ammī – too short.
Looking across at her, I suddenly felt aware of myself at how my ever experienced Hindu male eyes were drawn to her long, slender, tanned female Musalmān legs.
The flight wasn’t that long.
By the time Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I had been fed a typical airline breakfast, had a couple of cups of coffee, and bought Waħīdah Ǻbbās some duty free perfume, it was time to start descending towards Barcelona.
As soon as the captain announced our approach to the airport, Waħīdah Ǻbbās grabbed My arm, her excitement evident on her terribly stunning Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān face, her Musalmān breasts squashed against me as Waħīdah Ǻbbās bent over to try and see more out of the window next to me.
Once the plane landed, and came to a halt at the terminal, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I were amongst the first to leave the plane.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I dashed through the airport, hoping that our luggage would arrive quickly.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I were in luck – it seemed that only minutes after Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I reached baggage reclaim, our cases were on the conveyor belt in front of us.
Minutes later, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I were in a taxi heading for the city centre.
The taxi driver picked up on our excitement straightaway, and was soon chatting away in his broken English, pointing out the various sights as he drove.
He offered us a sight seeing “detour”, and as it wasn’t much more than the fare itself, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I took him up on his offer.
He drove us up to the highest part of the city, and Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I gasped at the panoramic views in all directions, of the docks and the cruise ships lined up in one direction, and of the city in the other.
He showed us the historical sights, where the famous football stadium was, where the Olympic village had been, and so much more.
By the time Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I reached the hotel, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I couldn’t wait to see more.
I paid off the driver, and then led the way through to the hotel reception, proud to have beautiful young Waħīdah Ǻbbās on my arm, proud yet cautious of the admiring looks Waħīdah Ǻbbās was getting.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās clung to my arm as Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I waited in the short queue at reception, both of us chatting away happily.
When Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I reached the reception desk, I gave the receptionist our name, and then waited while she found our paperwork.
As she looked through it, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I both became aware of the looks the receptionist was giving us.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās giggled.
“She thinks I’m either your wife or at least your Musalmān girlfriend,” she told me, hardly able to hold back her giggles.
The receptionist gave me the booking in form to sign with a frosty smile, and asked to see our passports.
I handed over the passports, and then looked at the form the receptionist had asked me to sign.
“I’m sorry,” I told her a few minutes later, “there’s been a mistake. I booked two single rooms, not one twin room.”
As the receptionist took the form back, I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the e-mail confirmation I’d received.
I also had the screen print form when I booked the hotel over the Internet.
“Look – there,” I pointed.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās looked as well.
“Durgesh darling,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās cried mischievously, seductively, naughtily. “It is wrong – look at the boxes your secretary ticked erroneously. You’ve booked one, Double Bed room, instead of two, Single Bed rooms.
She pointed at the e-mail.
I stared at the paper in front of me.
It suddenly dawned on me what my secretary had done.
“You can’t be trusted with secretaries, can you?” Waħīdah Ǻbbās told me, only half joking as she saw our weekend being spoilt in front of us.
I told her not to worry, that I would sort it out.
But, as the receptionist explained, the hotel was fully booked.
If Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I wanted two rooms, then Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I would have to look elsewhere.
I looked helplessly at Waħīdah Ǻbbās.
“We’ll take it,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās announced firmly. “After all,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās told me softly, trying to make me feel better, “There is a Double Bed – and a bathroom to get changed in.”
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I finished booking in, gave the still disbelieving receptionist My credit card details, and then followed the porter to the lifts, and the eighth floor.
He opened the door to our room for us, and placed our cases just inside.
As I tipped him, he gave a knowing wink.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās squeezed my arm, telling me to ignore the porter.
He thought Waħīdah Ǻbbās my young wife or young Musalmān girlfriend and we were here to enjoy sex with each other.
It was normal for him to welcome aged Hindu multimillionaires with their sexy young Musalmān secretaries/ girlfriends.
I followed Waħīdah Ǻbbās into the room.
Like so many hotel rooms, there was a short corridor, with the bathroom off to one side.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās popped her around the door to look inside.
It was actually quite big, with a partially sunken bath as well as a separate shower cubicle.
When Waħīdah Ǻbbās came out, she saw that I had stopped.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās walked up behind me, and took in the rest of the room.
It was quite large, with sliding doors out to a balcony which overlooked the city, and a LARGE DOUBLE BED.
She stopped, her eyes frozen on the bed.
I recovered first.
“Don’t worry,” I told her, “It’s probably just two beds pushed together – I’ll get the hotel to move us.”
“Look,” I added, as I flipped up the bed clothes to show her.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I both stared.
There was only one set of legs.
It was only one bed.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I stared at each other.
I eventually broke the silence.
“I’ll get us another room.”
“How?” Waħīdah Ǻbbās asked. “You heard what that receptionist said.” She stared at me for a moment longer. “We’ll just have to put pillows between us like when we were kids.”
Despite myself, I laughed at the memory of when Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I had all gone to Disneyland six or seven years before.
The hotel room had two big beds, so Waħīdah Ǻbbās had shared with me.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I had used pillows to split the bed into two, but by the time Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I had finished, the pillows had begun to look like a barricade.
“Are you sure?” I asked, totally fed up with myself for getting it all so wrong.
“Yes,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās told, squeezing my arm reassuringly.
“Now come on, I’m starved. Let’s get unpacked, and then get some lunch,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās added, more brightly than Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt, but wanting to cheer me up.
An hour later, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I were sat in the warm spring sunshine, outside a cosy café towards the top end of Las Ramblas, a wonderfully entertaining street in the centre of Barcelona, eating omelettes, Waħīdah Ǻbbās even enjoying a bottle of red wine.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I ate and Waħīdah Ǻbbās drank.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I felt more relaxed, the problems of the last few hours disappeared, and Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I started to plan our weekend.
I was torn between sight seeing and going to the Nou Camp stadium to soak up the atmosphere and watch football, while Waħīdah Ǻbbās wanting nothing more than to visit all the shops Waħīdah Ǻbbās could find, looking at the sights as Waħīdah Ǻbbās went.
In the end, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I decided Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I would try and do everything.
“Okay, let’s go for it,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās told me, before adding mischievously, “So long as we go shopping first!”
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I spent the afternoon shopping.
I actually quite enjoyed it, glad to see Waħīdah Ǻbbās so happy as Waħīdah Ǻbbās took me from shop to shop, trying on dozens of items for every one Waħīdah Ǻbbās bought.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I even went shopping for me, as I gave in at last to Waħīdah Ǻbbās’s pleas for me to “get with it!”
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I still hadn’t finished when the shops began to close.
“There’s always tomorrow,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās told me, skipping out of the way as I playfully swung a shopping bag at her.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I strolled the half a mile or so back to the hotel, our arms linked, enjoying each other’s company as Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I always did.
Back at the hotel, I had a quick shower and then left the bathroom free for Waħīdah Ǻbbās.
When I heard her in the shower, I leisurely dressed, putting on the new clothes that Waħīdah Ǻbbās had left out for me.
When Waħīdah Ǻbbās re-appeared, Waħīdah Ǻbbās was dressed and ready to go out.
“What do you think?” Waħīdah Ǻbbās asked, spinning around to show off her new outfit.
While my wolf whistle was meant to be playful, I couldn’t help thinking how good Waħīdah Ǻbbās looked.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās had put on a tiny amount of make up, just enough to highlight her extremely sexy Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān features.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was wearing a short, flared skirt and high heels, both of which helped to show off her legs to perfection.
The skirt fitted just tightly enough around her perfectly round gorgeous exquisite excellent voluptuous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass to show just how sexy it was.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās wore a vest top with very thin straps, with a shirt over the top of it.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās had left the shirt unbuttoned, and I couldn’t help but notice how the vest clung to the shape of Waħīdah Ǻbbās’s pert Musalmān breasts.
“You look beautiful, sweet heart,” I told her, “You make me so proud.”
Waħīdah Ǻbbās hugged me, telling me I “looked even more killingly handsome than I myself realized”.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I stood close together, I suddenly realised just how good it felt to have Waħīdah Ǻbbās in my arms like this, just how sexy Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt against me.
I let go of her as if I’d been burnt, Mumbling something about us “needing to go out” as Waħīdah Ǻbbās looked at me quizzically.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I ate in the hotel restaurant.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I took our time, and even I felt relaxed as Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I looked forward to the next few days.
After dinner, Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I went for a walk around the place de Catalunya, strolling slowly amongst
the fountains and statues, enjoying the atmosphere.
By the time Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I got back to the hotel, it was quite late.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I went into our room, there was – just for a moment – an uncertain silence between us, as if Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I didn’t quite know what to do.
But then I went into the bathroom for a quick wash.
When I came out, Waħīdah Ǻbbās was sat on the edge of the bed.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās glanced across at me as I came back into the room bare chested.
She stood up, her pyjamas in her hand, and went to take her turn in the bathroom, smiling at me as Waħīdah Ǻbbās brushed past me.
I sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly unsure about sharing a room, let alone a bed, with Waħīdah Ǻbbās.
I glanced at myself in the mirror, and quickly decided to get changed.
I grabbed the pyjama’s I’d bought earlier and quickly unwrapped them.
I didn’t normally wear pyjama’s, preferring to sleep in the nude or in an old tee shirt if it was cold.
But while there were out shopping I had bought some just for the weekend.
I stood up, quickly pulled my trousers and underwear off.
As I stood naked, reaching out for my pyjamas, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
“Amazing,” I thought, smiling to myself.
At sixty four, I did still look okay.
I always kept my tan, and had managed to avoid putting on too much weight over the years.
While my muscular legs and chest have not softened even slightly with the passing of time, I knew that I could still draw the odd admiring look when I was on the beach.
As I stood naked, my pyjama’s still in my hand, the bathroom door burst open.
I sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed, holding my pyjama’s still in my hand, not even covering my Uncut Hindu Lund and balls, my face startled.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās stopped dead, looking at me, feeling very embarrassed both for her and me.
I looked at her, my mouth suddenly very grave.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was wearing her favourite Winnie the pooh pyjamas.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās had had them for years, so they were now a bit too small, but she still loved to wear them.
The short sleeved top, which had once been baggy on her, now fitted snugly over her Musalmān breasts, her nipples clearly visible.
I stared at her, at the picture of the bear on the front, at the way the picture moved with her, with her body, with her Musalmān breasts, as Waħīdah Ǻbbās breathed.
Her pyjama bottoms were shorts, and while they had once reached her knees, they were now half way up her tanned thighs.
Behind her, in the other wall mirror, I could see just how tight they were over her firm Musalmān ass, how they clung to her soft Musalmān curves.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās stared at my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund dumbfounded.
We both were in trance.
For how much time, none of us knew.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās just kept staring at my unique legendary Uncut Hindu Lund dumbfounded.
I kept watching Waħīdah Ǻbbās.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās recovered first.
“Come on Durgesh darling, get a move on,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās told me as Waħīdah Ǻbbās crossed to the other side of the room, doing her best not to look in my direction as she started to put her clothes away in the wardrobe.
“Waħīdah Ǻbbās, I’m trying to get changed,” I told her, saying the first thing that came into my head.
I felt angry with myself for getting us into this mess, and with Waħīdah Ǻbbās for being so sexy, so beautiful.
And with myself for the way my Uncut Hindu Lund was reacting openly.
“Oh come on, Durgesh darling, I won’t look.”
“Well you better not,” I told her, trying not to look in her direction, my voice unexpectedly gruff.
“And if I do? I’ve already more than enough. I’ve already digested too much what the unique you have for us womankind.” Waħīdah Ǻbbās teased me.
“I’ll have to spank you,” I retorted, automatically using our standard joke.
I glanced in the mirror and saw that Waħīdah Ǻbbās was looking away now.
I carefully shook my pyjamas to unfold them, before standing up to step into them.
I glanced up again.
This time I saw Waħīdah Ǻbbās in the mirror, looking in my direction.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās could obviously see my buttocks, but that wasn’t where Waħīdah Ǻbbās was looking.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was looking in the mirror as well, at my reflection, at my rock hard Uncut Hindu Lund swaying in front of me, at my heavy Hindu balls hanging beneath.
I dragged my pyjamas up my legs and sat down.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās had been looking at me so openly.
Or had I imagined it?
Her voice was small, so quiet I could hardly hear her, even though Waħīdah Ǻbbās was now stood next to me.
I felt angry again, at her, at myself.
I reached out and grabbed Waħīdah Ǻbbās’s arm, dragging her to me and throwing her over my knee.
“I told you what would happen,” I almost shouted, as my hand crashed down onto her perfect big ass, barely hidden by the thin material stretched tightly over her hot Musalmān body.
She screamed and wriggling, kicking her legs as my hand crashed down again.
I felt the heat of her perfectly round gorgeous exquisite excellent voluptuous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass against my hand as I smacked her for a third time.
I stopped, breathing heavily, my hand resting on her perfectly round gorgeous exquisite excellent voluptuous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass, her heat radiating through to me.
I was suddenly aware of her Musalmān breasts and belly against my leg, of her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Her pyjama top had ridden up and I looked down at her back, at her smooth skin, at her beautiful sun tan, at the small tattoo at the base of her spine, at the way her narrow waist flared out to meet the soft curves of her hips and ass.
A groan escaped from deep within me as I ran my hand softly over her perfectly round gorgeous exquisite excellent voluptuous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass, and up onto her back, feeling the shape of her sexy Musalmān body.
I slipped my hand into the back of her shorts, pulling them down as I ran the tip of my middle finger down between her cheeks, knowing it was wrong but totally unable to stop myself.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās gasped, trying to take in what was happening, trying to understand why the pain Waħīdah Ǻbbās had felt was now being overwhelmed by the pleasure shooting through her.
“Durgesh,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās cried, wriggling harder as Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt my finger scratching lightly over her puckered Musalmān bum, as waves of pleasure washed through her.
“Durgesh, stop,” she moaned, as Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt my hard Uncut Hindu Lund against her belly, as her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot flooded, as She pressed her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot herself down against my Uncut Hindu Lund.
I sensed the change in her, but couldn’t work out what it was.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was still wriggling, but her movements were now more deliberate, more controlled.
My already hard Uncut Hindu Lund stiffened even more as I realised that Waħīdah Ǻbbās was actually rubbing her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot against it, against the hardness of my knee.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās thought Waħīdah Ǻbbās was going to faint.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, her whole body, ached with the pleasure surging through her.
Her nipples felt like they were ready to burst they felt so hard.
And beneath her, Waħīdah Ǻbbās could feel the hardness, the heat, of mine.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās couldn’t stop herself.
It was as if a floodgate had suddenly opened.
She pressed her whole body down against me, wanting me.
With a groan, I felt Waħīdah Ǻbbās press down against me.
I pushed my hand further into her pyjamas, reaching down between her legs to find her hot Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās cried out as Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt my Uncut Hindu Lund on her, suddenly scared, very scared, by the depths of her feelings, of her need, of her desire for me, of her need for release.
She scrambled away from me, falling onto the floor before quickly standing up.
Her chest was heaving, her nipples rock hard against the thin material of her top.
There was a dark patch on her shorts where Waħīdah Ǻbbās had been rubbing against me.
I looked Waħīdah Ǻbbās up and down, drinking in her sexiness, my heart thumping.
I saw her eyes looking down at me.
Glancing down, I realised for the first time that my Uncut Hindu Lund had escaped through the open fly of my pyjamas, and was now stood erect, all eight inches of it, thick and hard, the head red and engorged, and already wet with pre cum.
I felt my Uncut Hindu Lund jerk.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās’s eyes widened as Waħīdah Ǻbbās watched my Uncut Hindu Lund swaying.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās didn’t resist, didn’t want to resist, instead when Waħīdah Ǻbbās herself grabbed me, plunging herself to me, her mind blanked by lust.
Her shorts were half ripped away from her body as she grabbed them and plunged herself towards me.
I caught a fleeting glimpse of her red hair, but then Waħīdah Ǻbbās was straddling me, neither of us sure of what was happening, neither of us wanting to stop, but both of us knowing that Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I had to.
“Durgesh,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās almost sobbed as Waħīdah Ǻbbās knelt over my lap, her knees on the bed each side of my nude Hindu male thighs.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās didn’t feel in control of her body any more.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās could feel my hands on her hips, the unbearable heat of my Uncut Hindu Lund against her tight Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās groaned.
“Durgesh, I’ve never ……..”
And then Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt my hands pulling her down onto me.
Her knees collapsed under her, and Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt the searing heat of my rigid Uncut Hindu Lund driving upwards into her ardent Musalmān body.
“….. done this before …” Waħīdah Ǻbbās finished, my Uncut Hindu Lund already deep inside her like a rod of steel.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās screamed with pain, with desire, as My Uncut Hindu Lund tore into her body.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās automatically straightened her legs, lifting herself away from me.
She sobbed, tears welling up in her eyes.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās looked at me, at the awful confused, pained expression on my face, at the horror at what had happened, what she’d done, in my ever experienced Hindu male eyes.
“Oh Durgesh,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās breathed, lowering her body back onto mine.
This time it was I who was frozen, as Waħīdah Ǻbbās lowered her sexy young body back down onto me.
She moved slowly, almost gingerly, reaching down to hold my Uncut Hindu Lund, her hand barely big enough to reach around my thick Hindu shaft. Waħīdah Ǻbbās wrapped her other arm round my neck as she eased my Uncut Hindu Lund back into her body, wanting me, wanting my Uncut Hindu Lund, desperately.
I held her hips lightly, not quite believing what was happening, watching Waħīdah Ǻbbāss face as Waħīdah Ǻbbās lowered herself onto my throbbing Uncut Hindu Lund.
I couldn’t believe how hot, how wet, how tight Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt as the engorged head of my Uncut Hindu Lund slid into her.
I somehow resisted the urge to push my Uncut Hindu Lund into her as deep as I could, to pull her hips down onto me, and let Waħīdah Ǻbbās take her time.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās lowered herself onto my lap, Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot lips stretching around my Uncut Hindu Lund as it slipped into her.
The pain Waħīdah Ǻbbās had felt was being washed away by the strength of her pleasure as her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot moulded itself to every ridge, every contour, of my Uncut Hindu Lund.
With a deep groan, she settled onto my lap, all eight inches of my thick Uncut Hindu Lund buried inside her.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was in awe of her body, of the pleasure surging through her.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās had no idea how all of that wonderful Uncut Hindu Lund had fitted inside her, but it had.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt so full, as if my Uncut Hindu Lund was reaching up to between her Musalmān breasts.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās wrapped her arms around My neck and looked into my ever experienced Hindu male eyes, seeing the same need, the same desire in my ever experienced Hindu male eyes as Waħīdah Ǻbbās was sure I could see in hers.
Her legs were spread wide, her knees each side of me.
It felt as though Waħīdah Ǻbbās was being split apart by my Uncut Hindu Lund, speared deep inside her.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās could feel my balls against her perfectly round gorgeous exquisite excellent voluptuous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass, my hands stroking her hips, running softly over her body.
Still looking into my ever experienced Hindu male eyes, she eased herself up on my Uncut Hindu Lund, feeling it sliding out of her a few inches before dropping back onto me.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās wiggled her perfectly round gorgeous exquisite excellent voluptuous Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass a little, and then lifted herself again, enjoying the wonderful sensations flooding her body more and more, enjoying the feel of my Uncut Hindu Lund deepest inside her, the feel of my skin peeling back over my Uncut Hindu Lund head each time she moved her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot up and down my Hindu length.
It seemed natural for us to kiss, tentatively at first, our lips barely touching.
But then Waħīdah Ǻbbāsicked slowly along My lips, before poking her tongue between them, feeling our way inside my mouth.
Moments later, our lips were locked together, our tongues thrusting and exploring.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I kissed, I pulled Waħīdah Ǻbbās to me, feeling her Musalmān breasts, her hard nipples against my chest even through her flimsy pyjamas, our hips now moving as one.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I broke our kiss, staring at each other as Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I gasped for breath, our lips still for a moment.
Silently, Waħīdah Ǻbbās reached for the hem of her top, and pulled it slowly up her body and over her head.
I gasped, my Uncut Hindu Lund jerking inside her, as the rest of her body was uncovered.
My ever experienced Hindu male eyes moved with her, following the edge of her top upwards.
Firstly, it was her flat, well toned belly with the little gold cross nestling in her belly button.
I had always been against her having her navel pierced, but now all I could think about was how sexy it looked, Waħīdah Ǻbbās looked.
As the top went up higher, my hands moved from her hips and slowly up the sides of her slender body, her skin smooth and soft under my touch.
Gradually, as if in slow motion, the soft swell of her Musalmān breasts came into view.
I moaned, my hands tightening around her, as her sexy young Musalmān breasts were unveiled to me.
They were bigger than I’d ever imagined, but still firm, very firm and beautifully shaped.
They seemed to turn upwards at the end, and were slightly conical shaped, her nipples hard and swollen, the aureoles dark and wide.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās saw how I was looking at her, her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot throbbing at the expression on my face.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās held still for a few long moments, her arms above her head, her Musalmān breasts thrust out to me, wanting me, as I feasted on her extraordinary Musalmān beauty.
I reached out to her, my hands moving smoothly across her body to cup her Musalmān breasts.
I sighed as I felt her firmness beneath my hands, just as Waħīdah Ǻbbās sighed as Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt my hands on her, the rough skin on my thumbs scraping lightly over her sensitive nipples.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās threw her top onto the floor and pulled my head to her.
I pressed my head into her cleavage, my hands still on her Musalmān breasts, the two of us still for a moment except for the gentle movement of our hips, of my Uncut Hindu Lund inside her.
I watched as her nipples puckered and tightened even more under my touch as I moved from one to the other I squeezed them gently, and then harder.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās held my head to her, wanting, needing, my attention, her hips rising as Waħīdah Ǻbbās began to fuck my thick, hard Uncut Hindu Lund again.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I moved as one, my Uncut Hindu Lund ploughing into her, stretching her, as Waħīdah Ǻbbās clung to me, as I squeezed her Musalmān breasts and nipples, my hands roaming easily over her body.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt as though My Uncut Hindu Lund was filling her entire body.
It felt huge inside her – and Waħīdah Ǻbbās loved it.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās loved the way it filled her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, reaching deep inside her.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās loved the way it moved, the way her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot wrapped itself around it.
And Waħīdah Ǻbbās loved the way the pain, the dull ache, Waħīdah Ǻbbās had felt was now being replaced by waves of intense, almost painful, pleasure.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās had felt nothing like it ever before.
The pleasure filling her, reaching the very ends of her body, was amazing, and was being driven there by my stunning Uncut Hindu Lund inside her body, by my hands on her body, by my mouth on her Musalmān breasts.
Everything was a blur as Waħīdah Ǻbbās clung to me, holding me tighter and tighter as the pleasure inside her became almost unbearable.
Our hips, our bodies, were moving faster now, my Uncut Hindu Lund reaching deeper and deeper inside her as everything else was forgotten except for our pleasure.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās cried out as her orgasm tore through her body, wave after wave of intense pleasure.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās threw her head back, her chest flushed, her body tense, as I buried my Uncut Hindu Lund inside her and clung to her, in awe of her reaction, of the pleasure Waħīdah Ǻbbās was enjoying.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was almost sobbing with relief as her body relaxed, as I began fucking her again.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās was bouncing up and down on my lap as I drove my Uncut Hindu Lund wildly into her, her Musalmān breasts bouncing in front of me as Waħīdah Ǻbbās rode my violent Hindu thrusts, as she straddled my knees, pushing down to meet my Uncut Hindu Lund as I drove it deepest into her body.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I fucked, her juices poured from her onto my Uncut Hindu Lund and balls, the room echoing to the wet sounds of our bodies moving together.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt my Uncut Hindu Lund grow even bigger inside her as my climax approached, as another climax washed through her.
As my Hindu cum threatened to erupt inside from me, I started to lift Waħīdah Ǻbbās away from my Uncut Hindu Lund.
“No,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās cried, understanding what I was trying to do, “it’s okay. Give it to me inside, please.”
Waħīdah Ǻbbās drove her body downwards, using her weight to drive my Uncut Hindu Lund back inside her just as my balls contracted and sent my Hindu cum into her body in thick jets.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I both cried out, I at my release and Waħīdah Ǻbbās at the feel of my Hindu cum filling her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, mixing with her juices.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I clung together, my Uncut Hindu Lund throbbing inside her, her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot squeezing my n cum from me.
I collapsed backwards on the bed, breathless, my muscular body slick with sweat.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās lay down on top of me, her cheek resting on my chest, my softening Uncut Hindu Lund still filling her hot, wet Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
“I love you, Durgesh,” Waħīdah Ǻbbās murmured, hugging me as Waħīdah Ǻbbās felt my arms around her, “I love you now even more than I ever did before. Thank you. Thank you very much for accepting me in your life forever, my dear Hindu husband.”
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I lay still for long moments, savouring the feel of each other, before Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I inevitably thought about what had happened.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I both knew that Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I should be feeling guilty, but Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I didn’t.
All Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I knew was that Waħīdah Ǻbbās and I wanted it more, much more.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās got up slowly.
As Waħīdah Ǻbbās knelt beside me, I propped myself up on my elbows, looking at her.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās leant over and kissed me softly, her hand resting on my belly.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās looked down at my Uncut Hindu Lund.
It was still semi erect, lying at the base of my belly, still slick with cum and juices.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās giggled at the fact that I still had my pyjama bottoms on, at the huge wet patch from her juices.
Waħīdah Ǻbbās dragged them down my legs, leaving me naked, and then got up off the bed.
I watched her, drinking in her ardent Musalmān nakedness, her beauty, as Waħīdah Ǻbbās crossed the room and went into the bathroom.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Spring had come to Washington, a city, like the nation, happy with joy and cheers.
Spring had come to the new President’s Oval Office, where those who worked with her and for her were waiting for Jacqueline Lincoln.
What the hell more she wanted from her life?
Just eighteen Just adult she was the permanent Live in Relationship Partner of a man that was unique and legendary in the entire human history.
He was still young despite his sixty three had already completed.
And now her own best friend was the new President of USA.
What more Nadirah Muħammad Yåqūb needed?
The young beautiful girl, Jacqueline Lincoln, was the top executive, Chief Executive to be more precise, of the world’s most important nation.
Well, Jacqueline Lincoln deserved it however.
Everyone had laughed at Jacqueline Lincoln when she raped me.
“That’s why it was necessary, Mom, for a bold Protestant girl to rape the Hindu Stupid.”
“What do you mean?”Dolly Carter looked at her daughter in perplexity.
“Durgesh is the most important man now. Don’t you agree with me?”
“Well, he is the dream man of you young ladies, I know.” Dolly Carter teased her most ambitious daughter.
Jacqueline Lincoln smiled at her mother.
“Mommy, I know you too love the Hindu beast. And I suspect you do too have sex with him, haven’t you?”
“Nonsense, Jacqueline Lincoln, you―”
“Momma, I’m quite adult now. I understand what we womankind need even more than mankind.”
“You feminist bitch, don’t tell me you are also a nudist exhibitionist as your Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, the Utmost Ultramodern Kħātūn-e-Jannat razī Allāhu tålā ånhā is.”
Jacqueline Lincoln smiled.
“As if you were not, in your younger days.”
Dolly Carter advanced to the window.
“Yes, I was. I was so proud of my extremely beautiful female body that I wanted to show the entire Multiverse what I had the rest of them didn’t.”
“You still have that miraculous extremely beautiful female body, Momma.” Jacqueline Lincoln was proud of her mother suddenly.
“Yes,” Dolly Carter turned to her daughter and smiled, “I still have it. But now I’m more experienced, my child.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dear child, you are my daughter. A mother always tries not to talk about her sex life with her children.”
“But it doesn’t mean she hasn’t any sex life.” Jacqueline Lincoln was furious, “does it?”
“No.” Dolly Carter accepted, “it doesn’t.”
“Then why the hypocrisy, Mom?”*
Nadirah Muħammad Yåqūb observed.
They were no longer gathered around the Cabinet table.
General Alfred Washington was pacing near the telephone.
Yet, he wasn’t worried.
The new President is only a young lady.
Everyone thought Jacqueline Lincoln would lose the election.
The entire USA, all its fifty states, couldn’t be so childish ever that an independent candidate, neither Democratic nor Republican, can defeat both the authorized Democratic and Republican Presidential candidates.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said, it would happen.
None believed her.
“Certainly not, my child, certainly not.” Former Miss Universe, Dolly Carter, said, “You succeeded in removing the age long Kingdom from Saůūdī Årab, because Saůūdī Årab is a Pseudo Islamic country after all.”
“What do you mean?”
Former Miss Universe, Dolly Carter smiled discordantly.
“The point I’m trying to make and you are deliberately trying not to admit, is that it was rumored widely and being hammered 24×7 that you are a Parahuman. You are Kħātūn-e-Jannat razī Allāhu tålā ånhā yourself. The ever backward and ever superstitious Ummat-e-Muslimah believed it. They believed it beyond every rational whatsoever, every logic whatsoever, that a young Musalmān girl, nudist, feminist, having sex with a Hindu who established Durgesh Muslimahs Sex Empire, openly, who fucks Musalmān Beauties under Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service and Durgesh Farīdah Jalal Sheikħ Sex Therapy, can be Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā herself. Can anyone believe it? But most of the Muslimāt and Musalmīn believed it. They even believed that Durgesh is Ħazrat Mahdī ålayhissalām himself. Nonsense.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was smiling prudently unhurriedly.
“The hell with you all. I still can’t believe it this miracle has happened.”
“Auntie, please!” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed gently.
“Is there anything wrong in what I said?”
“Not in gist, auntie.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan also smiled patiently, “But in your over enthusiasm to prove us Muslimāt and Musalmīn backward and grossly superstitious, actually you have over simplified us Muslimāt’s entire one thousand four hundred years tremendous Jihad against Pseudo Islam. It was not that easy, auntie, as you have summarized it.”*
He couldn’t believe still now that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is really succeeding.
Can she really succeed in removing the age long regime of Assaåūds?
Shahzādah Sheikħ Al Jibrān still enjoyed a sense of elation, a sense of ecstasy, at the excellent reception given his speech at the United Nations.
He can say anything until he holds the absolutely unsuspected faith of the family,
The family has profound faith in his constantly successful foreign policy.
Yet he has to show the entire globe that he is also against her.
They would lose their ever undisputed faith in him.
He would be removed from his post.
And thus, he wouldn’t be able to help her movements
from inside diplomatically.
Especially the delegates of the Islamic World appreciated him much more than the rest of the audience.
Even Jacqueline Lincoln had assured him that she would tell Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan how he is successfully helping their all the four movements: Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, and JetMusalmān BeautiesSquadas diplomatically as possible.
While even the Saůūdī Årab ambassador to the United Nations, his own real younger sister, Sheikħzādī Al Kħālidah Assaåūd, delivered the routine speeches, it was Shahzādah Sheikħ Al Jibrān Assaåūd, the veteran foreign minister of Saůūdī Årab, that really stole the glory.
That’s why he was always sent to New York to make the more crucial public statements.
This morning’s address, on the continuing increasing political power of Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, internationally, had been a crucial speech.
Moreover, it had gone down well.
His own enthusiastic word still echoed in his own ears:
“I have immense respect and profound honor for my Muslimāt sisters who are increasingly losing their faith in our ever ancient marriage institution and surrendering to Live in Relationship, in a constantly increasing great number I must say, with the Vedic Monotheist Hindus.”
He always used to say it and he was always appreciated somewhat similarly.
“Allah Subħān Wa tålā orders:
‘Wa lā tunkiħū almushrikīn ħattā yu’minū’
‘And do not marry polytheistic men until they believe.’
Again there was a bigger storm of applause from the Muslimāt.
It lasted more, moreover.
His indignant royal family had objected.
“This interpretation of this Āyat-e-Karīmah is wrong.”
“It doesn’t mean…”
“The hell it doesn’t. It does. It does mean that our Musalmān houseladies are doing nothing wrong. So the slogans being used against us that our family is not devoted to Islam anymore as it was once, are entirely unjustified, wrong and only politically motivated.”*
He had ignored her if she was only his sister.
But she was the Ambassador of Saůūdī Årab to United Nations too.
He couldn’t tolerate it.
May be there was an acceptable excuse.
He was hardly aware now of the Saůūdī Årab security guard beside him.
He hadn’t expected it.
She led the way to her safe office rather hastily somewhat.
He knew his sister very well.
It wasn’t her characteristic at all.
Always try to keep your patience whatsoever may the circumstances are.
She was trying her best to hide it.
Yet, he knew his younger sister better.
She was biting her lower lip every now and then.
And it was only when she was impatient.
Her office was already electronically secured against eavesdropping.
She shut the door behind them carefully.
She appeared strained somewhat.
“Bhāījān, my apologies for having to walk out during your magnificent speech. I was called away by an urgent emergency phone call from Riyadh.”
“Yes, from Åāýéshah Siddīqah herself, none other.”
None knew what the masterminds conspired to.
But suddenly Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service was an international movement supported by Cuckold Your Musalmān husband Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club Ashvinātam Gangbang Club Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh and JetMusalmān BeautiesSquad.
“Massive. Whatever happens but the old man is through. If he comes out of the coma, recovers, he’ll be a vegetable, incapacitated. Or he may linger on in his present state. At best the doctors give him no more than a month.”
“King Al Ħanīf Assaåūd himself has refused it.”
“He had ordered before going into coma not to play with the sanctity of any of his Musalmān houseladies.”
“Nonsense. And the royal family has agreed?”
“Well, every Musalmān houselady of the royal family is ready to sacrifice her sanctity to Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Cock. Yet, when they declared their consent to it the patient in coma, King Al Ħanīf Assaåūd, registered a great fall in his health. The doctors has announced that under the circumstances even Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy might be disastrous to King Al Ħanīf Assaåūd.”
“I can’t believe this nonsense.”
“That’s why the entire royal family has decided King Al Ħanīf Assaåūd’s successor to be alerted and placed on standby. That’s why General Åāýéshah Siddīqah, the Chairperson of Al Mutwåīn, called. She wanted you to be informed that an informal vote of the entire Royal Family overwhelmingly favors you as the next King of Saůūdī Årab. Congratulations, Bhāījān.”
She stuck out her hand.
His brain was asking.
‘Sheikħzādah Al Moåīn Assaåūd?’
‘Sheikħzādah Al Moåīn Assaåūd?’
‘What happened of him?’
Yet he never asked this question.
Why should he?
Let the bloody Sheikħzādah Al Moåīn Assaåūd go to hell.
He felt himself suffering from imbalance.
Controlling himself with every effort he could gather he made his way to the sofa, groped for an arm of it and lowered himself to a cushion.
“Let me get you a drink, Bhāījān.” Ambassador Sheikħzādī Al Kħālidah Assaåūd smiled in a celebratory mood, “One for each of us. What would you prefer, whisky or vodka? I’ve Stolichnaya. Let’s drink to it.”
She started for the bar.
Reclining low in the rear seat of the bulletproof Dārussalām limousine, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan felt like an ancient queen.
Well, wasn’t it better to be a President of a nation now, instead of being its queen?
She had similar feeling this early morning.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan actually had the similar feeling every morning of the past week.
Up ahead, through the distortion of the bent windshield, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan could make out the motorcycle escort, red light flashing.
Behind her, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan could hear the higher pitch of the protective sedan that contained the remainder of her complement of bodyguards.
Within the luxurious limousine there was every freedom.
In the front seat, the driver and the man next to him were Secret Service agents of the Dārussalām Detail.
It wanted some Saůūdī Årab there too.
The chauffeur’s gaze was directed straight ahead.
Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, pressed her black naqāb more tightly to her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān head as the wind whipped in, through the opening of the electric window beside the driver.
It was in the years when she belonged to herself.
When she wasn’t even Utmost Ultramodern Kħātūn-e-Jannatrza.
She recognized the all-female Hotel Al Kħawātīn too, the Hotel Al Binnāt Al Tāhirāt, the Lebanon Embassy.
In minutes, the limousine would take her away from all this, around Kħātūn-e-Jannat Square, and to Executive Avenue and the south entrance of the stately Executive Mansion.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had waited with excitement the inevitability of this most important day in her life.
She never knew she would really succeed when Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had planned it all.
Yes, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had masterminded it all.
It was her dream coming true now.
It was her moving day.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan didn’t allow him to take even a single one of them with him.
“They are the only guarantee I have against your potential betrayal of us, Al Moåīn.”
“I am not a fool enough to…”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had raised her right hand.
“You are dead for them and for the rest of the world, aren’t you?”
“Okay, no problem, my lady.”
“I promise to take care of them individually personally.”
“You? Personally? I thought Durgesh would fuck all of them and…”
“That’s right, my child, that’s right. That’s the way I personally take care of the extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies of my enemies.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had laughed skeptically.*
She was now only the chairperson of the women’s organization of Saůūdī Årab.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has to treat men and women alike now.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan can’t allow any privilege to anyone in the matter.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan brought her eyes from the window to the radiophone beside her.
Transiently Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wondered what the agent was so grave about.
Was her expression that of anxiety over her responsibility?
“Yes,” this very Ůzrah Taymūr had argued with her, “Islam originally supports Democracy. Even Ħuzūrs died without instructing anyone who his successor would be. Hes left it on the shoulders of the then Ummat-e-Muslimah present. Yet, even Ħazrat Siddīq-e-Åāzamrzudidn’t follow this tradition established by Ħuzūrs himself. Herzu nominated Ħazrat Fārūq-e-Åāzamrzu instead of leaving it on the shoulders of then Ummat-e-Muslimah.”
“I doubt it, Naåīmah.”
“Even if it’s true we are successfully using the Hindu multi zillionaire’s multi zillions for our Islamic movement. Isn’t it?”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
“So that you can use his multi zillions for Aqāmat-e-Dīn. What is wrong there?”
“Nothing actually too. Stop being as obnoxious as to doubt everything even if you haven’t any proof for it.”
“Caution is better than ultimate failure, I think.” Ůzrah Taymūr had retorted.*
It was throughout the week that, Ůzrah Taymūr was on guard, outside the Dārussalām Presidential Office.
This morning Ůzrah Taymūr had appeared at daybreak.
She said that she was on a split shift today, four hours now and four hours in the afternoon.
There had also been several pieces of Al Sadar Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s furniture, a magnificent bedroom desk and bench, a maroon leather armchair, a tall lamp with a shade that her Abbū Imām Muħammad Ħasan himself had painted so long ago.
The Revels chair was also with the furniture.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was most proud of its possession.
How could Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan ignore anyone of her five movements: Cuckold Your Musalmān husband Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club Ashvinātam Gangbang Club Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh JetMusalmān BeautiesSquad?
It was a genuine John Henry Belter rosewood chair with an upholstered panel in its scrolled back.
There was an upholstered felt seat also in it.
Her Abbū said it was handmade in New York in 1870s.
He had become the first Negro to sit in the United States Senate.
“But Abbū, someone has told me that Hiram R. Revels, of Mississippi had converted into Hinduism later on and he followed Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, the Mudgal Hindu emperor that was so against Islam he used to sleep with his feet deliberately stretched to the West toward Makkah Mukarramah, Kħāna-e-Kåbah.”
“The hell with these rumors. My dear child, there is a society in Hindus that calls themselves Bachhalyā. They are the most successful diplomats and politicians among Hindus. It is said that even Rājpūts are the descendants of the Bachhalyās. The Hindu mythology about the Bachhalyās is that they are the real sons of Param Purush and BrahmJagdambās themselves.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had smiled discreetly.
“Why not? Why not?” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said cynically, “Your Durgesh is himself a Bachhalyā genetically. That’s why he’s so ever shrewdest in every matter. It is said that there is a time period according to Hindu mythology that’s called Brāhm Kalp.”
“Yes, your Hindu son in law Durgesh has told me about Brāhm Kalp mythology of the Hindus. It’s an era that starts every now and then after every other era. And once it’s started, it runs repeatedly to almost infinity. Durgesh says the Brāhm Kalp has started once again now.”
“I don’t think so, Abbū, Durgesh has so many evidences too, to prove what he has told me.”*
After the Army truck had wheeled away toward the Dārussalām, followed in a Presidential staff car by Nafīsah Salmān and Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Ůzrah Taymūr and the other Secret Service agents had waited to escort President Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan herself.
She must be discreet however.
Yet, she must also find out constantly what she could do as a President and what she can’t.
Yes, Durgesh has provided her countless lady robots manufactured by HVSI.
They have every information Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan can ever need.
Yet why shouldn’t she find out what Ůzrah Taymūr herself knows?
The Secret Service agent turned her beautiful head,
“Yes, ma’am― I mean Madam President?”
“I want to ask you a question.”
“Anything, Madam President. Pardon me if I keep my eyes on the street while I talk. Duty, Madam President.”
Ůzrah Taymūr was attentive.
But her eyes were pointed to what lay out beyond the limousine window in the gray morning.
“I couldn’t get proper time until now to acquaint myself with the functions of the Secret Service. Yet I do gather your Detail is assigned to protect me at all times.”
“Yes, Madam President. I’ve been ordered to follow USA laws in the matter until we have our own Constitution. According to USA laws, since 1901, Title 18, United States Code, Section 3056, amended and approved by the 82nd and 83rd Congress.” Recited Ůzrah Taymūr.
Then she went on,
“Subject to the discretion of the Treasury, the United States Secret Service, Treasury Department, is authorized to protect the person of the President of the United States, in this case, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, the President of former Saůūdī Årab, and the members of her family.”
“Excellent.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan cooed, “I hope you would remember similarly in quite detail when our own Constitution would replace it.”
Ůzrah Taymūr nodded gravely.
“Sure, Madam President.”
“I gathered that I haven’t been out of your sight for a second this week. Of course, that excludes when I’ve gone to the bathroom or have been asleep. Does it always have to be that way? Isn’t there some time when I can go alone, privately, to see certain― certain friends?”
Keeping her gravity continued, Ůzrah Taymūr shook her beautiful head.
“I’m sorry, Madam President. How can we protect you if we aren’t with you?”